Did I think I would be a statistic? Yes and no. Consciously no, I thought that I would become rich and famous like everyone who grew up within an hour of Hollywood. Subconsciously, with my humanities degree, affinity for the creative arts, general confusion about what it takes to really make it in this world, lack of trade skills (but an abundance of interpersonal ones, please hire me), it happened. I moved back in with my mother at age 30.
Hello, Mother, you were expecting me, as you always do.
How does it feel? Horrible. Deafening. There’s a loud buzzing in my ear reminding me of what I could have done differently as my younger brother flourishes in a finance job. (Is it finance? I always black out when he starts talking about it to me).
I tried and failed a few different jobs in my three decades of life, and I had just assumed one of them would stick.
I am surrounded by people from my hometown I went to high school with who are married with children and a mortgage, and I don’t know how it works.
You work for money and the money pays for things, I get that, but how do people spend their lifetimes crouched over a desk, or outside or any one place for the rest of your life? It’s no wonder I’m here; I don’t know how to be an adult. I am part of the latest craze of “adulting” memes. I am definitely coming from a place of whiny, overindulgent privilege. I’m the equivalent of a lifestyle blogger without the looks, the family money or the twee. I wanted magic, I think.
For years, my mother so wanted me to get a Bachelor’s degree.
It took me 10 years of on-again, off-again effort, before I finally got said bachelors degree in something as useless as Community Psychology. My mother was happy, but this degree vaguely resembles HR positions without the practical experience, and it sounded like community building but without the social skills. Community psychology is equal parts nothingness and a smattering of classes on how to recognize a human. Childhood development? Check. Feminism in Latin-American communities? Check. How to get any sort of income in your future? I must have been busy decoupaging my final project about the male gaze.
Sitting in my childhood room, I ask myself the horribly big questions.