I took over the Market Master position last year...but the previous Market Master had already taken care of this legal aspect, so I was facing a new experience. I was slightly nervous about it for several reason, not least possibly being the fact that I've hardly been out of the house for months now as I continue to deal with a re-occurring foot infection that for two weeks out of three keeps me strictly shoe-less. So, boldly walking in on strangers and "adulting" caused some slight apprehension. Silly, I know...but the truth.
Anyway, I got home from said quick trip...and as I plunked my wallet down on my desk, I declared to Katherine (who was practicing her piano), "Well, I adulted and it was fairly painless."
She almost laughed and said, "It usually is."
And you know what? She is right. It usually is pretty painless to behave like I'm my age. To face a stranger over a business proposition with my head up and my shoulders back. I may not look beautiful or graceful, but honesty and a grin never hurt anybody.
I was talking to my mom this morning some about how each of us, even my parents, deal with "moving on" as we begin to function on a higher plane the more we beat our Lyme and Co. When I was diagnosed, I was 22. I am now 26. Those four years in between...large chunks of them are missing. I lived through them (obviously, I'm not dead) and I even did things like working a Farmer's Market every weekend June through September...and a reenactment here and there. But, so much of that time was lost. I aged, without necessarily my mind getting any older. (So don't mind me when I act a little too young. I just haven't caught up to myself yet. ;D) I lost social skills I once had...
Beyond that, there is an emotional "loss". Like I said to my mom, it's like there are emotions there, underneath the flatness, but you just can't quite reach them. (Other days, you sit and cry for no logical reasons.) And then the anxiety--which can cause undue and ridiculous (if you aren't the person living it) stress over even very simple things--perhaps having to get out and pump gas.
We have to relearn how to deal with emotions, good and bad. We have to relearn how to face stressful situations. We have to learn how to live again. Really live. Not just breathe, eat, and sleep.
Relearn how to read and absorb information. To read a sewing pattern. To play instruments and sing. To follow through with a task (oh what a biggie this one is!) To step outside our comfort zone.
To walk into a building of complete strangers, standing straight and tall, with a smile and no stuttering as we inform them why this funny looking girl with the black-leggings, denim skirt and red cabled sweater has just intruded into the peace of a beautiful lobby.
It's getting easier.
I only regret that the "G" I wrote on the paper was so wobbly. A capital "G" is the worst looking letter in my handwriting's vocabulary.