I spent my entire ninth birthday crying because I didn’t want to grow up. It was my last year as single digits and it absolutely terrified me.
I thought turning 13 would be the end of me.
I didn’t want to learn how to drive. I didn’t care about dating. Getting married and leaving my parents, going to college, getting a job?? Those things were so far out of my mind. As a kid, I knew what I had was awesome and I didn’t have any desire to lose that.
I have never been the kind of person who looks forward to growing up. Never.
Well, now here I am 25 years old with a baby and a husband. I have a mortgage and bills, laundry, dishes, a job and so many responsibilities.
My sisters are dating boys and going to parties and planning trips without me.
My grandparents are getting older and I have to think about losing them..
I relate more to my mom than I do my siblings.
I hardly see my friends and spend most of my time at home.
I never knew it would get to this point.
I thought if I dreamed of Neverland enough, I would eventually find myself there running with the lost boys, getting dirty and avoiding all responsibility.
My dad said I’m going through “growing up pains” and let me tell ya, they hurt almost as bad as the growing pains you had as a kid.
When there was a shocking cramp pulsing through your calves? There was an aching feeling that would literally keep me up at night crying.
Well, I’m going through that again.
It’s not physically shooting through my legs, but there’s definitely an aching pulsing through my heart. This pain keeps me up crying too.
I’m grateful for the life I have. I honestly love it. I’m beyond blessed to be in the position I am. But, if I’m being honest, 9 year old me was pretty smart for crying about growing up. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.