BY: Megan Roberts – December’s Guest Blogger
I’m twenty-seven. Legally, I’m an adult. I have my own health insurance, a 401K, a car lease.
Yet I am here. In my purple childhood bedroom. Surrounded by ten books that I’m currently all in the middle of, a mess of clothes that I’m not sure I’ll ever wear, drinking a Stella beer and wondering what the hell am I doing with my life.
Cue panicked brain dump here…
Will I ever be financially stable or am I doomed to be haunted by those student loans forever? (Btw F You, ghosts.)
Will I ever be brave and make the first move? Whether that’s actually going on a date or moving out of state, and being okay living thousands of miles away from my family?
This is me at one in the morning. These constant thoughts and fears ripping through the shitty patch jobs of hope, of temporary sanity. I’m stuck. And the worst part is that I know I’m doing it to myself.
A few months ago, there was a potential work opportunity for me to be relocated out west. This was it. Finally my chance to be out there in sunny California with a stable job in hand. They’d want me to move pretty quickly, too, so I started to tell certain family and friends to give them a heads up that there is a chance that this could be happening, and soon. The immediate response from my parents was, “how can you afford this?” and, ”think of all of the things you’ll miss”, which is a conversation we have had time and again that always leaves me disappointed and hopeless.
I know at the root of it, it’s because they love me and will miss me. I’m so thankful for all they have done and are currently doing. I mean they’ve been taking care of me this past week since I’ve been horribly sick from a stomach virus – driving me to the doctors and getting medicine, running me baths, bringing me all of the Gatorade and tea. It would have been hell without them.
But why can’t they support me in the way that I want and tell me to go? That the only time is now. I don’t want to hear that it’s not possible or that I won’t be here to cut down the next Christmas tree. Why can’t we plan together to make this happen? The worst part is that I listen and push it all down to impossible. I do worry about not being here, of all that I will miss. It’s been fun living with my youngest brother again and spending all of our birthdays together at the Detroit Zoo Brew. I love my co-workers and I’m just a quick drive away to most of my friends.
But this feeling isn’t going away. I already have a lot of regrets for a twenty-seven-year-old. and I desperately don’t want to make this another one. You’re right, things will be different, but I know that it’ll all turn out okay. I promise to check in and visit. We’re family, and who knows, this could be temporary, and I could always move back later.
I thought I’d move within the first year after college graduation. Four years later, I’m reflecting on what has changed…and besides lots of movement within my profession, there’s little difference. From the outside perspective, I’ve stayed the same: single, goofy, overweight, messy room, and still yields to any other possibilities of a better, happier future.
Okay that was a bit harsh and I know that’s not all true – my confidence has grown but it still waivers unpredictably. I’ve learned more about philanthropies and how good it feels to give back. I care more about what is going on in the world and the politics behind it. I try to live more by my values and stand up for what is right, whether that’s in the workforce or my personal life. I’ve kind of became a Yes Woman, especially to all of the fun activities.
Oh, an extra ticket to the Star Wars costume exhibit at the DIA? Yes, and I’ll try to keep my hands to myself (p.s. everything is very soft.)
Fly to Arizona to see Mr. Shawn Mendes and then hike the Grand Canyon in July? A very sweaty Yes.
And now I’m an Aunt Meg to two nieces and two nephews. Both fraternal twins. Yep.
It’s amazing but fool me for thinking I’d have figured out before we birthed (no birthing from my end) this whole new Roberts generation within these last two years. I feel like I’m still waiting to grow up. And now it’s their turn to experience all of the magic in the beginning, and then figure out life when it gets hard.
I wonder who they will be. How can I help make them into decent human beings who care about themselves and the world that they belong in? Encourage their curiosities and questions and silliness.
I want so much for them. I want them to be happy, to have confidence, to try all of the things. I want them to know that it’s okay to be afraid of the new, of the unknown, but to just keep going. I want them to love me.
As I say this, I realize why can’t I want all of this for myself? Why am I so scared and still stuck in my purple room? Would they be proud of me?
I’m afraid of what their answer might be.
And in the end, I didn’t leave for California. After weeks of back-and-forth responses, the opportunity closed for the time being because of other circumstances, and could possibly be opened again in the long-term future. Do I stay and wait? My heart hurts just to write that.
At the time when moving was a possibility, one of my best friends gave me a slew of gifts to remind me of my home “in case I finally fulfill my dream of moving out west.” She gave me a custom pillow that has the coordinates of my college campus, a Michigan bottle opener and Detroit coasters of all the famous spectacles downtown. And her word “finally” shouts at me. FINALLY. I was so close.
These gifts now feel like false promises. They’ve been packed away in my closet. Her note is still on my dresser and makes me want to cry. She was so excited for me. I was excited for me.
I still hope for ‘finally’. And I realize that finally doesn’t have to mean out west. It can be anywhere. It’s my first move in general; any step that takes me in the right direction of happiness. In a way, this blog post is my first action toward that, and I plan on holding on to this courage for the next.
And to my nieces and nephews: Please don’t give up. Please be nice to those around you. Please go after your passions even if they require more effort. Please come to me if you ever feel like its impossible or that you’re not enough. I’m here.
Megan Roberts (aka MegRob) is still figuring it all out. However, in the meantime, she lives in the Mitten (Michigan) and works for a fundraising platform that helps charities give back to the world.
She tries to find the humor in almost everything and when she’s not watching a movie or reading one of the ten books that she’s in the middle of (Eragon series, I will finish you!), she’s hanging out with her ever-growing family and booking her next short-term adventure. Europe, anyone?