The Important $h*t Book

When I was a kid, I couldn’t wait to grow up. I had grandiose dreams of living in a big house, driving a fast car, and traveling the world with my friends. In my young mind, there was nothing that could stop me. However, after turning 18 and moving out of my childhood home, I realized that I was alarmingly unprepared for the harsh reality of adulthood. There was an avalanche of important shit crashing down on me, and I couldn’t breathe. This deluge of new responsibilities and decisions shocked me to my core, and I concluded that this adulting thing might not be as easy or fun as I’d thought. Expectations … The strong urge I felt to flee my parents’ home in search of my own independence is a tale as old as time. I mean, who wants to be told to clean their room, take out the trash, or what time to be home? Like many 18-year-olds, I lacked the skills required to manage my time and the knowledge base to make responsible decisions. But how hard could adulting really be? All the grown-ups in my life seemed to have it figured out. They had homes, jobs, cars, kids, took vacations, and mowed their lawns. They could go where they wanted, when they wanted, with whomever they wanted. I wished away my childhood, anticipating the day when I could join their ranks. I stared down this new challenge with the confidence and arrogance of inexperienced youth, charging straight into battle without a weapon. I thought college would be all party, party, party with a few classes in between. I soon realized that my life was mostly spent on classes, studying, more classes, and studying, then working to pay the bills. When was I supposed to have fun? Well, I found time, but my grades suffered dramatically. I might as well have flushed all that time and tuition money down the toilet. This was my first adult-sized ass kicking, but oh, my dear readers, it would not be the last. … and Reality In my youthful innocence, I failed to understand the constant struggle and worry that most adults face. I didn’t see my mom crying in the bathroom, wondering where the money to pay the mortgage would come from, or what she was going to do about my grandfather, who was ill and required more and more medical care. My parents, like most, concealed their hardships. As I aged under this protective shield, I developed a sense of blissful ignorance and truly believed I was ready to make it on my own. I didn’t know what I didn’t know, but I soon learned. Before I moved out, creating a budget, balancing social and study time, making a meal plan, and scheduling doctor’s appointments were not topics that had ever even crossed my mind. Suddenly, I was in charge of my own finances, scholastics, social calendar, car maintenance schedule, nutrition, and health. It was a lot to take in. When I moved into my first place, I knew I would have bills, but no one explained how much to expect from my electric or phone bills, nor how to budget for them. Suddenly, my phone bill and rent were due on the same day, and I panicked. I was able to pay them, but had no spending money for the rest of the month. I distinctly remember going to the grocery store for the first time with my college roommate. We rode the bus to the store where I spent most of my monthly budget on junk food, then had to carry the heavy bags from the bus stop uphill to my dorm. I similarly remember my first solo oil change and doctor’s appointments. I didn’t know what kind of oil I needed or what insurance I had, and I certainly wasn't prepared for the cost of the services. My self-confidence waned. The good news is that each time I made a mistake, I was able to learn from it. I learned how to plan my monthly finances to account for all my bills. I learned how to budget for my groceries and avoid buying multiple heavy items to carry uphill. I learned what type of oil my car used and to always carry my health insurance card. Every experience propelled me towards a more informed life. After working hard to improve my grades, I graduated and got married. We moved to a small town and I began my new job. Having the responsibility of a full-time career was a big slap in the face. All of a sudden, forty hours of my week were pre-scheduled, and I felt my freedom slipping away. Taking days off was not an easy process, and I was frequently upset about missing out on fun with friends. It was difficult to ever carve out time with them as we all moved to different towns after graduation. When I wasn’t working, I was running errands, cleaning the house, or just taking some time to rest. Even though I was reasonably intelligent, an adequate money handler, and in good health, I found myself drowning in the ocean of adult responsibilities. As time passed, the decisions I had to make became increasingly difficult and important. One was buying my first house. I honestly didn’t understand most of what the realtor and mortgage broker were explaining to me. I just smiled and nodded. The implications of a 30-year mortgage were foreign to me, but I signed the paperwork and strapped myself to a high monthly mortgage payment without blinking an eye. And then we made perhaps the most life-altering decision a person will ever make. We had a child. When I became pregnant with my son, my primary responsibilities shifted from myself to him, and every decision now affected both our futures.