This week, I have 2 papers due, several hours of observations in local schools, an abundance of meetings, class every day, hours in the office, pages upon pages to read and outline, a test to study for, a Halloween party, a four hour drive on Friday, and maybe a little sleep thrown in the mix.

Oh, and somewhere in there, I'm turning 20. Two whole decades completed.

I remember being little, in middle school, sitting at my high school graduation, and, heck, my birthday last year. One thing I had in common at each of these points was the belief that at 20 years old, I would have my life together. Boy, was I ignorant. That could not be further from the truth.

But, I seem to have everyone fooled. I finished my freshman year of college with a 4.0 GPA, and I have continued to do well overall in my classes this Fall. I have a wonderful group of friends who keep me laughing, on my toes, sane, and are always up for an adventure, even if it's only to Waffle House on a Wednesday morning, where they laugh as they notice my completely insane coffee-to-sugar ratio (See? This adulting stuff is hard). I have a family that is so close-knit and goofy and supportive, and I am lucky. I have a major that I love with which I can at least convince myself I have a reasonable potential and future. I am in love with a boy who makes me laugh and is my very best friend, and after two and a half years of complete and utter weirdness together, I hope with all of my heart to marry him in the coming years. I have recently moved up in my job, and I am loving every second of it. I am involved in multiple organizations and societies on campus. Most days, I eat every meal, I wear clean clothes to class (even though some days that means they were clean before I put them on to go to sleep the night before), and get enough sleep to function after my daily grande cappuccino. So, yes, to those on the outside, I am a put together individual just floating along through life.

Regardless of any of that, many days, sometimes multiple times throughout a single day, I feel like that kid that loses their mom in the grocery store and goes full panic. Except the grocery store is life, mom is probably off at work, I live alone at school, and I'm just walking around trying not to cry in the middle of campus because I spilled coffee down my dress on the way to class.

I wonder all the time, "What the heck am I doing?" It is so scary to think that I am choosing now what I want to do with the rest of my life, when I still don't always know how to dress appropriately for the weather. I sat down with my advisor last week, and it began to click with me for the first time that I am about two years from my internship, then graduation, when I will be thrust into the cold harsh world and expected to teach the masses of children who appear in my classroom, because someone thought it was a good idea to give me a classroom. Some days, that is so exciting and I feel the fire of my passion burning, and some days that makes me want to vomit.

I don't know that the shock of growing older will ever subside. It feels like only yesterday that I walked into my Kindergarten classroom, and it was only yesterday that I ate merely a spoonful raw cookie dough for lunch, so I don't understand how I am much different from that silly little girl, but now I have responsibility, and I feel like I'm swimming in an ocean with no shore but a really strong undertow.

Maybe this is a normal place to be in life. Maybe I'm not supposed to have it figured out yet. Maybe I never really will, and I will just take the days as they come. Something about hitting these big numbers in age brings a sense of urgency about being an adult, but I think it's ok to live in and enjoy this weird hybrid of adult and adolescent wherein I feel lost and found all at once. Besides, I'm only lucky enough to struggle through the mess that is 20 years old for 365 days.