I admit right here in front of thousands (possibly billions) of people that I am in fact crazy. There, I said it. My mom has told me. My friends have told me. Hell, I’ve had exes tell me.

Growing up I was primed for a degree. I was taught how to make pleats in my plaid Catholic school girl skirt, how to pray to God and that abstinence was the best practice. At 25, the only thing I remember is how to make those pleats stick.  I think I’m supposed to be a doctor or something like that by now. But, I am not. I haven’t stepped foot in a college classroom in a couple of years and in reality, I don’t plan to for awhile. I moved 838.5 miles away from my family and friends. I have eleven tattoos, facial piercings, dyed my hair ridiculous colors. And you know what? I’ve done drugs.

Sure, that’s to be expected at some point in any individuals life but I am not on a straight path. I should have been done with college three years ago. I probably should be in a stable loving relationship for a few years by now. I shouldn’t be working two jobs to survive and my whole body should not be covered in tattoos.

I pictured my twentysomethings different than this. More settled, I’d say. Grounded and less like my head is in the clouds. A lot less like a soap opera composed of one unfortunate event after another. I shouldn’t complain, really, I have my life and a roof over my head. I have a handful of trusted and funny (for the worse of times) friends. I still have my mom telling me she loves me. And my brain, mostly, is intact.

Why such disdain for my life? Ok, I confess, life is good. In fact the past several weeks of my life have been incredible.

However, these high expectations were instilled in me a very long time ago. The only one to blame is me, the battle royale between myself has been bloody throughout the years. They say your worse critic is yourself and believe me, it has been.

In the next few months I am going to be mapping out my five year plan. Goals that are geared towards what makes me happy. Desires that allow me to travel, finish school, produce art, hang around kids, get more tattoos, see my family, witness great music, explore and learn more at a feasible rate. Nonetheless, goals that are vital to my survival. This doesn’t mean I will be aiming to become a doctor because that is something I do not want to become. But it means that my ass is getting into gear. Instead of being indecisive about my future, it’s time to put an anchor on me.

So far I have planned near future goals. Get a new tattoo. Attend Sasquatch. Visit home. Photograph only using film. Run at least three times a week. Decide where I will be living in September.

Not really much but I’ve been discovering that it truly is the small things that count. I haven’t been taking the time to enjoy those small moments. Like when you stop to watch the rainfall. Or witness a child smiling. Those are the things I’ve been missing out on.

Take it or leave it but I say to you, stop to smell the roses and you will find your raison d’être.

.

Similar articles that might also interest you: