Growing up is Ironic.
Like, Driving. I admit, I never had the desire to drive. I never drove before my permit. Honestly. When I was driving with the teacher for the first time, she asked me how much I had driven before- to be honest. She was shocked that I never had before (not that I was amazing or anything, just because everyone has).
But driving was fun. I will also admit, I was a bit reckless. But the freedom of going anywhere I wanted, was amazing.
I never worried with whoever I drove with. Those crazy driving people that close their eyes when they drive basically, I felt totally comfortable riding with them.
Now, I would freak out. I have to make myself trust whoever I drive with, even my husband (easiest- he is a good driver). I am constantly bombarded with the fear of an accident. Instead of thinking an accident is possible, I am astonished when I get to a destination and no accidents occured.
Having a baby has not helped.
I miss the freedom of driving, instead of the fear.
And the mail.
I used to LOVE checking the mail. The thought of getting something made me happy.
Now I hate it. I am constantly afraid that I will get some hidden bill I had no idea about.
Growing up, you sure are ironic.
(p.s. I know these are quite probably irrational fears that I may or may not share with others).
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