I have something to admit. I am scared. Some of my brain cells tell me that this ought to feel like an existential crisis, but my soon-to-mature frontal brain tells me that I can’t be sitting around treating every little adult situation like a crisis crippling my inner child; and somehow, effectively, it doesn’t feel like one.
I got a call from a close friend earlier today, and I found out that she had been in the country for a while now (she lives and works on a different continent). I was surprised to hear that. She told me that her dad had a back issue and had to be admitted to the hospital, which was why she had been caught up and couldn’t get in touch with me.
A few hours later, another friend texted me about a common friend’s dad being admitted in the hospital due to a stroke. He had been having health issues over the past couple of years, and things look serious.
It shook me up a little bit. Losing a parent as a kid, as a teen – it’s an anomaly, and it’s usually under unnatural circumstances. But it looks like a more realistic probability now.
I think I might have been taking my parents for granted. I have been approaching them the same way as I did when I was a teenager. Hell, I know I have been approaching a lot of things in life as if I were teenager. Or maybe not. Maybe this is how young adults make the transition. A sudden slope to end the comfortable plateau. Picking your priorities, choosing the role you want to play in the intimate as well as larger community- how you express yourself, and offer what you have to offer. Coming into your own and your responsibilities.
Yeah, I think I’m game for this.