Big girl panties.

the realization alighted unhurriedly. gently, so as not to startle the childhood ignorance that had been nested comfortably for so many years. a series of small acceptances, a head-nod of acknowledgment here and there and then there.

I moved out for college. Out but not away, really. An hour or so was enough distance but not too much. I had to cook for myself for the first time and, heavens above, do my own laundry. I'd call mom for more quinoa and grocery money and when one of us forgot to pay my rent on her card by the 15th.

and so my freshman year I ruined pots and burned holes in the floor and exploded microwaves. My roommates and I would have a good laugh and I happily accepted my lack of domesticity.  The pinky of that heavy word -- adult -- rested on my shoulder as I memorized my social security number and signed my own forms and learned that I actually can't go out for sushi every week.

then I took a big breath of mountain Utah air and moved to Texas to do a daunting job I had no background in or training for. I felt the adult weight swell with the responsibility for success in an arena far outside my comfort zone.

now I pay rent that's too steep and use stain remover and never buy the name brand at the Kroger down the street.  Sometimes it takes all my willpower to bite my tongue and smile at a hostile coworker.  Sometimes I hate working and hate my job and just want to sit down and cry.

It came to a crescendo halfway through the paperwork at the urgent care. I can't pay this.  My pen hovered above the insurance provider line, embarrassed.  I can't afford the co-pay. Or the antibiotics the doctor is going to prescribe. I can't afford them. And so out I walked.

I've learned to put on my big girl panties and.....deal with it.
To deal when adult presses unyieldingly.

bad things happen to good people and you don't always get what you want and that's just that and life. goes. on.

and all things considered......I'm pretty damn lucky.