The Recovering Mooch

Well, it's done. There's no going back now. There's no hiding from it at my parents' house. I can't just sit on my hands and ignore it. It's here. I have to face it.

I'm on the path of adulthood.

How the heck did I get here, anyway? Wasn't it just yesterday that I was packing my stuff to go on a mission? Didn't I just graduate from high school like a week ago? This can't be happening. I can't be this person with bills in the mailbox and a grocery list on the fridge. Who is this person that those bratty teenagers are calling "old?" (Nevermind the fact that I just called them "bratty teenagers.")

Okay, shake it off.

Anyhoo, here I am. In the Land of Happy Valley; a single, 27 year old college dropout in a sea of married 23 year old BYU graduates with 3 kids. I feel very much the same way I did in Paraguay when I was a five-foot-nine, blonde, blue eyed Amazon woman in a sea of five-foot-nothing Guarani descendants: a sore thumb.

                                                     What do you mean I'm adopted?!

Maybe I'm not so different. But here I am, anyway.

For the past two years or so, I lived in Salt Lake. It was supposed to be temporary. As in, "I think I'll stay here for the summer while I decide what to do about school." But that quickly turned into, "Wow, I really don't want to go to school anymore." And then it wasn't so temporary. The summer quickly became a year, and a year quickly became me realizing that living at home with my wonderful family and having my laundry done for free for the rest of my life was much better than me living with messy roommates and having to pay for it. Obviously.

Well, to make a long story short, I realized that my regression into childhood came at a cost. For every amazing home cooked meal that I didn't have to make, for every load of laundry that came, nicely folded, into my room, and every month's rent that I didn't have to pay, someone else had to do all of those things. I have two of the best parents in the entire world, who would do pretty much anything for me. No, let me rephrase. They HAVE done everything in the world for me, including letting me, a perfectly capable 27 year old Amazon woman, be a complete mooch. Now, I can be pretty oblivious, but even I know when I need to step up. So I moved out. And now I even do my own laundry.

It's not going too badly, either. I've even had other things to eat besides instant mashed potatoes. (*shudder*) (When I was going to UVSC at the age of 18, I had instant mashed potatoes every day for lunch and dinner for about 4 months. That's not even exaggerating. Never again, mashed potatoes. Never again.)

I have lived on my own before, and for those of you who know this about me, you might be wondering why this time around is different. This time is permanent. Now it's "Mom and Dad's house," not "my house." I'm not really giving myself the option of moving back home. My parents deserve their own house and their own money and all the time in the world together, and to not be so far apart.

So, as I said before, here it is. Adulthood. Staring me in the face. I have no idea what I'm doing. I've been pretty lost the past few years in regards to education and religion, and now I stand here having to face the decision of who and what I'm going to be for the rest of my life. And I don't even have my mama here to hide behind. That's okay, because no matter how scared I feel, I know that everything will turn out okay. It always does. This is just the next phase of my life.

Okay, I have to go do dishes. That's right, cuz I do dishes now. And I even take out the trash. I think I deserve a trophy.

(Illustrated pictures belong to the girl who writes hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com. They're not mine.)