I’ll admit it. Lately, I’ve been stressed about the future.
The future has, for me, been a source of comfort for a long time. I have everything but my funeral planned, mostly on Pinterest. Dreaming about the future has always been a comfort because I know that, no matter what happens right now, the future will find me. There are infinite possibilities, and they will all happen whether or not it is in the way I expect. I like that I can lay plans, and they’re there if I need them, but it is likely that they’ll have to be abridged at least. I know that my plans will likely become outlines, no matter how thorough, but the fact that I have an outline is a comfort.
Specifically, getting a full-time job and moving to a new city is what is stressing me out. I have moved out of my parents’ house and back into it twice now, and I want it to stick this time. The thought of different troubles, like bills and full-time work and new friends and budgeting, sounds like a challenge that I will (mostly) welcome.
I’m tired of being a student. I’m tired of being financially dependent on other people. I’m tired of not having my own space beyond a bedroom. I’m tired of waiting, but I know I’m on the verge of a great change. I hope I will be woman enough to meet it with grace and good humor. More than that, I hope I will wait with grace and good humor.