Being a grown up is hard. This coupled with the fact that I can no longer take comfort in the phrase, NOR THE MERE IDEA of, “When I grow up…”

Too late! Adulthood, here I am. I got here a while ago I guess but when you’re single it’s so much easier to pretend there’s a point in time somewhere in the future when you’re going to be all growns up. Looking back, when one is single, it’s really much easier to accept being down or having things go completely awry. You still have the future, some point in time when you’ll be married and run a home and have a dog, share debt with your sig other and hell, maybe even have offspring.

I look around and confirm that yes, I’m already there, minus the the kid part. So it makes it that much harder when things aren’t going well in a particular area in life because I tend to be pretty hard on myself and I wonder, “Where is the baller lifestyle I once dreamed I’d have?” This notion has nothing to do with not being grateful for what I have: my lovely husband, my wonderfully cozy apartment, my cute albeit high maintenance dog, my health, that of my family’s etc. These are all things I’m particularly happy to have going well. In fact, so much goes well, I often feel bad for wanting more in other areas.

I’m stuck somewhere in the middle of the life I willingly and wholeheartedly chose (here in Chile with all that it implies) and the life I thought I’d have given the people I know and where I grew up. Something is just not adding up.

I wanted to be a relatively young, hip mom. The kind who does yoga, cares about what she wears and always leaves the house with little heels on. The kind of tells her kid to question the status quo and who dresses her girls in black vs the typical boring pink so many moms choose. In my head this mom has most avenues of her life in line which is the main reason the kid exists in the first place. In my mind, this could have been me if only certain things would have worked out a little bit better than they have thus far …

The older I get, the more I fear that opportunities are farther from my reach. There’s challenges in both being old and young, but here in Chile the challenge is more with those of us who are old. Unfortunately here in Chile, my age is considered middle age… adult, old, kind of over, where you are is where you’ll be, kind of thing. There’s more to why I feel this way but those thoughts will remain offline … Unlike CA where this same age means prime time of life. It’s a little weird to adjust to that. Everyone I know socially in Chile is younger than me. My uncle always tells me that this is the best thing, associating one’s self with younger people as this too keeps one young. I definitely agree. But I look at them in wonder at how the pages of their lives aren’t yet written because they’re young. If they stay here, they have an advantage. If they leave, they have time to get their act together back in the US so as to be in tip top shape for their prime time 30s. What a win-win situation, I think.

On a nostalgic note, I used to want to be a writer. In fact it used to be one of my life’s goals, the idea of writing a novel. I used to really like to write and imagined I’d one day be the next Isabel Allende. Obviously that didn’t happen and the writing is now limited to this blog, which of course, is better than no writing. I once had this idea to write about an airport and everything that happens there. The different stories behind why each person is there. I thought it to be quite interesting since some people go to see their kid’s off to college; some go to see their lost love’s leave; some go because of work; some because they’re trying to find their path somewhere else. So many stories that I thought for sure it would make for a good novel. Then I thought it would be really cool to write about my family’s story with the idea being to go back about two generations. You might not believe the story of my family and all I can equate it to is Isabel Allende’s “The House of the Spirits.”

I once thought I’d be a journalist too. This was the reason I studied Communications in the first place. Lo and behold I come to find out that such a degree means nothing here in Chile and it’s as if I merely graduated from high school. This is the main motivator behind deciding to go back to school again for a graduate degree. Maybe it would have been easier to have just kept on with the Journalism bit back in the day. Now of course, I’m too old.

I’m an adult and in Chile, I’m a middle aged adult. This is the hand I’ve dealt myself and I’m learning to adjust. I say this because in my head I feel like I’m still young and on top of the world. IN MY HEAD. Outside my head the reality is different.It would make it far easier for me to have certain things work out in a slightly more positive manner but I’ll remain hopeful that this will soon be the case. Absolutely nothing in Chile is easy and I was delusional for thinking it might be.

But don’t mind me … right now I’m just a little scared of having arrived at the Adult phase without all of my equipment.

Fast forward to minute 1:15. This sums it up.