It’s 8:52 p.m. on a beautiful, steamy Monday. Despite the heat, the incoming storm convinced me to leave my bedroom window open. As stupid as it may seem, the sounds and feelings of wind and thunder made all of my troubles go away, if only for a moment.
Today was a good day. It wasn’t the best day I’ve ever had; it wasn’t the worst. I could’ve accomplished more, enjoyed more, relaxed more. But there is something I took away from today… I’m just a kid. Albeit, a big kid with all kinds of additional responsibilities and health problems. A kid. I’ve had the thought come across my mind several times in my life, because that’s how I think I’ll always feel. I’ll be 82 years old, and clinging to my Depends while I attempt to perform a new skateboarding trick.* But it’s not very often that I have other people actually say it to me. In my current life situation, I always feel like I have to be more responsible and “proper” than I genuinely feel. I don’t feel like myself.
Don’t get me wrong… I can do laundry, pay bills (when I’m making money), cook, clean, keep track of my finances (kinda), work, plan, organize-ish, etc. But as I haven’t stated in previous posts, I’m a stepmom. It’s not official beings that I’m not actually married to the kid’s dad, but having been acting as a guardian for four years or so, I think I’ve earned at least a little bit of the title. I’ll get into the specifics in a later blog, but for now, I just want to realize…that I’m a kid.
Please don’t be hateful or judgmental towards me. I understand that it was my own decision to get in a relationship with someone who had a kid. But despite my own personality and realistic relationship needs, I let my feelings take over. So here I am. I’m not going to spend today’s post complaining about my relationship; just wanted to give some insight. I spend a lot of mental capacity arguing with myself about how I am as a “parent”. I never really stuff and give myself credit, I rarely even call myself a “stepparent” or “guardian”. But after all of my stress and actions and decisions and troubles, I’ve been reminded that I’m doing what I can.
It’s my first time being a parent, and I’m only twenty-three. I didn’t carry him in my uterus, or for the first few years of his life. But I’ve spent hours making crafts with him, playing games, doing homework, talking about nightmares, taking care of nightly creepy crawler invaders, talking to teachers, clothes shopping, fighting, and on and on and on. And for someone who stresses so much about everything, and someone who is so young and inexperienced, I think I’m doing okay. I’m doing my best. And I’m going to struggle, as even slightly older parents do. But ultimately, I’m a kid.
So… I’m going to work on my life. And I’m going to adjust a bit. I’m still going to worry about things, and beat myself up. I’m going to do the adult things, but I’m going to stay true to myself. In a fashionable way, I’ve decided to break out the paints and start a “Bleach” anime painting. I started watching anime when I was very young because of my parents, but by my teenage years I found my absolute favorite animes thusfar. And “Bleach” is my absolute favorite… So, I’m going to watch my “Golden Girls” (I’ll watch some Scooby Doo or something another day), and paint my teenage years. The worlds a stressful, busy place, so today… today I’ll just be a kid.