I might be the only person in the world who cooks then cleans and then eats. I just cannot eat comfortably knowing dirty dishes are in the sink waiting anxiously for their bath.
That alone says a lot about me (note to self: include in online dating profile). One thing you can guess is that I have ulcers, another is that I’m an anal b***. But I simply can’t relax knowing there are things that are under my responsibility awaiting to be done. Putting it simply, I’m a control freak.
It all started a good ten years ago when I was a spoiled brat and never cleaned my messes or cared for anything that belonged to me. My mother, a lovely woman but lacking all the severeness of the world, would always clean after us. It wasn’t until I was 17 and she got sick and was unable to perform her housewife duties that I realized I cannot stand messes and still am quite a messy person (not to mention lazy). Things would start piling up, dirt and disorganization would take over and drive my little capricorn ruled mind crazy. That was when I started to compulsively put stuff where they belonged (and if they didn’t have an assigned place I would assign them one also compulsively separating and categorizing) and cleaning. I simply could not stand seeing the house anything short of spotless.
And there began my bad habit of cooking, cleaning and only then eating my already cold meal.
I became a fangirl twelve years ago. I was a teenager and Pacey Dawson’s Creek stole my heart. I behaved then just like everybody does on tumblr (except there was no tumblr, so it was a lot more lonely and not as easy). Dawson’s Creek ended but my passion for it didn’t. I kept reading fan fiction and searching the web for info on the actors and watching videos on youtube for years after the show was canceled. When that passion started fading, I found Jim and Pam ‘The Office’ and then Lost. I wasn’t as passionate about them, but still they took up most of my free time and internet bandwidth. Until one day there came Fringe, and I became obsessed with it like I was for Dawson’s Creek (I suspect Josh has something to do with it).
Now, as a mini breakdown forces me to stop and take a look at what the hell I’m doing with my life, I stumbled onto the website I used to go for DC fan fiction; I spend a night going over the stories I loved so much and the taste of those memories resurfacing is bittersweet. I realized that I’m stuck in this sort of behavior like a needy person who will only give up a relationship when another one is already in sight (do I have to mention that my teenage years is filled with short lived, self sabotaged relationships while the picture of my love life during my college years had only spots of casual encounters and I haven’t kissed anyone in exactly four years?).
Tonight, as I was reading another one of those beloved Dawson’s Creek fan fiction, I started wondering if the author was now a published writer, if she had moved on and gotten a life. Then I got this horrible feeling that I’m stuck in my teenage years because I still find myself behaving like I hadn’t aged a day from when I was crazy about Dawson’s Creek. Before I got stuck in my usual self loathing cycle, I realized that I have done some stuff, and accomplished minor things. I surely have matured and grown independent. The only thing that haven’t changed are my tendency to become passionate about these fictional characters I identify so much with but most people don’t care about (and my fear of commitment, but that’s another story).
That’s when I realized that maybe being a fan girl might not be a teenager thing, but some sort of hobby or pastime, something I like to do. And, maybe, I don’t have to feel bad about this because it’s ok to be passionate about fictional characters just like some people are passionate about knitting, and others about scrapbooking, and others about sports. As long as I don’t use it to hide from the struggles of real life and get totally sucked into it to the point I get mildly depressed, I’m ok. Maybe I don’t have to grow out of this because this is who I am.
Don’t worry, this is not a self pity post (or blog for that matter). I’m just trying to understand where the hell I took that wrong turn that led me here, exactly nowhere. I’m 27 1/2 working as a live in nanny and going through college for the second time in my life. Way back when, I was sure that by now I’d be somewhere relatively stable in my life, but no, instead I posses nothing, have no certain future, a job that’s more like a gig, I spend way too much time online hiding behind fictional characters and talking to people I’ve never met and who are at least five years younger than me.
In my sweet dreams, right before I went to college for the first time, by now I’d be about to get married so I could enjoy my married life for a while before having babies before 30 (lowers your chance of breast cancer, they say), I’d be have a stable job and I’d be living in my own house. But absolutely none of that has happened or is even close to happening. So as I get older I wonder, what hell did I do? Where did I go wrong? Is this how it’s supposed to be? And more importantly what the heck do I do now?
Of course, I’ll stay in my lovely state of inertia until I can’t avoid moving forward (or backwards) anymore. It’s so nice and comfortable. But it worries me, because time is passing me by and there are certain things I want to accomplish where time is of the essence.
For now, though, I’ll keep waiting to see and trying to figure out what needs to be fixed, which new turn I need to take to get back on track, even if I need to do some back tracking to get there.
Now, tell me, am I the only one feeling that way? No? Commiserate with me please.
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