And I single handily, destroyed that entire plan.
I eventually took another look at my plan and decided the best course of action was for me to work, have my parents cut my off, and just work. Figure out what it was I was good at, what I enjoyed, what I didn’t, learn to live on my own, learn what it means to be an adult, and grow up.
Asking my parent’s to cut my off- so that I knew what it felt like to feel lost, helpless, and not know what to do- so that I knew what it was to only having wine, jelly, noodles, and the $3.09 cents I dug out of the couch to survive off of until Friday- so that I knew what it would to be my heartbroken and on my own and my own person. –so that I could discover who I was. I didn’t asking my parent’s to cut my off, and living in the real world, being afraid my lights would be cut off, would be the best experience of my life. I didn’t know how much I would grow from it, learn from it.
I didn’t know how much it would much it would change me.
I didn’t know that I would discover who I was. Who I was meant to be. That through this stress, this glorious, abundance of stress, that is almost enough to make you have a mental breakdown, not only do you find yourself, you find life, and fun. You find out what’s important to you. You find that life is perfectly, imperfect.