Come break me down…

Here’s the dealio, I think I have found a better way to articulate what I’m feeling right now since yesterday’s post was a complete jumblefuck. I’m afraid. I’m afraid that when I get back to my mom’s house in Indiana, I’m going to lay my head down, go to sleep and wake up in a world where the past 12 years never happened. This is not a metaphor, this is really what has me riled up right now. I will go to sleep, wake up and be 22 again with no direction and no purpose for my life, just back in a major depressive episode. You know how some people say they wish they could go back to their 20’s, I’m not one of them. Sure I wish I had the physical stamina of my late 20’s but that would be the only thing I want from that decade. Everything else was a complete mess.

Alternate scenario though: I go to sleep, wake up and I’m 34 years old, obese, living with mom and on my way to my job stocking shelves at Wal-Mart (an honorable job but just not what I want to do). The fear in both scenarios is the same, that the last 12 years never happened. I never travelled the world, I never met my greatest friends, I never laughed until I cried, I never did anything. I’m legitimately worried that I’ll go home and the last 12 years won’t have happened. Yes, I see the metaphor, I’m scared I’ll go home and regress. I texted one of my closest friends last night and made her take a blood oath to hit me with the tough love if I lose my way, drop out of school and go back into retail (again, another noble occupation but I’ve been there, done that, got the t-shirt and don’t want to do back). She agreed to be ruthless when necessary which gave me some comfort. It’s just happening and, from a distance, it was really exciting but the closer it gets, it’s scary.

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