Yeah, that one.
Once that realization popped into my conscience, all I could say is "What does that MEAN!?"
Is it a transition? Is it conforming? Growing old? Eich.
The Rachelle that, up until yesterday, was still an accumulation of carbon copies of my past, composed of the words I had attached to my identity, is NOT the same Rachelle that is anxiously gulping down this latté, fighting to describe this weird feeling.
Yeah, okay, my rituals are still the same, my relationship on a daily basis is just as stable. I haven't moved or drastically changed anything in my life. And I think that's the point; everything gradually crept up on me. Simple little 'upgrades' that all of a sudden cumulated into a "holy shit", let-me-catch-my-breath lightbulb moment. What happened?
The words have changed.
It's not twenty, it's thirty.
It's not single, it's engaged.
It's not Assistant, it's Director.
It's not dates, it's meetings.
It's not Pepsi Cola, it's Pinot Grigrio.
So what does all of this mean, exactly? Why am I even bothering to write any of this on a blog of all places?
Because I'm fascinated by the triggers. I'm, bluntly put, shocked that I'm currently realizing goals that I had given myself that rainy day in my therapists office 5 years ago (oh, how cliché!). You know, when everything just sucks, you think you're failing at everything and stuck in neutral, completely unsatisfied, alone, bitchy, poor and unmotivated? (Or what I like to call "My Twenties").
To that person I was paying 80$/hour who asked me "Why do you think it's impossible to reach those goals?" *&#@ you. It wasn't impossible. It just wasn't possible yet.
So what now? Nothing. Of course, I deal with a lot more stress than I used to, but it's all good. It's productive. I'm having fun (minus the whole painful, cracking bones and joints thing).
I'm a big kid, now.
When did it hit you?
