#3: The Revolving Door of Sheeeet* That is Being an Adult

Remember when you were a kid and staying in a revolving door was fun?

*sheeeet being 💩, just didn’t want Gmail to immediately dump this into your spam box, thinking I’m an online salesman of a weird black market that probably does actually exist, come to think of it. Happy Thursday!

I was in in NJ/NY this past week for 5-ish days. It was a trip to NYC for a work event that I naturally capitalized on to be able to see my mom and family in Jersey, and see a few friends in NY— especially because I don’t know when the next time I’ll be able to travel is, thanks to my looming Endo surgery / consult.

While thoroughly enjoying being able to rot on the couch in a kimbap-fueled food coma, watching the Golden Bachelor and catching up on the latest Love is Blind nuclear disaster, I was playing catch-up with my text messages with friends.

One of my friends told me that her nanny, who recently had to have a surgery, had to go back to the hospital for what turned out to be another issue (she’s going to be okay). This was the latest in what has been a marathon of inconsistent childcare she’s been dealing with for several months now, on top of dealing with the usual work/life/family to-do’s and life.

Her and I have often referred to adulting as being a revolving door of shit. You bait yourself into thinking, “if I just get through this crazy patch of life, I can breathe for a minute,” while knowing it’s never as simple as that.