Growing up I brought my lunch to school. Every night my mom or dad would pack my lunch up and store it in the fridge. The next day I would grab it and head off to school. The best part was when my dad left notes on the little white board that was built into the lunchbox. Sometimes he would leave jokes or tell me "I love you!".

Then finally in third grade, my mother told me that from then on I had to pack my own lunch. I was not having it. I'd have to make my own lunch?? No more notes? No more nicely made PB&J's? It was pretty much the worst news ever. As a nine-year-old, I had zero skill in the kitchen. I'd make a crummy sandwich, throw in a yogurt and call it a day.

Then around noon, I would pull out my lunch to find I had forgotten a drink and a napkin. Other days I wouldn't pack enough. Sometimes I would forget to make it the night before and would be rushing around the kitchen throwing random packaged foods into my bag before rushing out the door. There were also the days where I just forgot it entirely. To summarize my experience, making my own lunch sucked.

It was a rough first year packing my own lunch, but I eventually got the hang of it. By high school, I was a pro. I perfected my PB&J skills and upgraded to making different kinds of entrees: salads, ham sandwiches, soups, and mac n' cheese.

I also figured out I could pack as many snacks as I wanted because no one could tell me no. I still had my bad days. At 6:30 am I'd be rushing around the kitchen trying to shove as many food items into the bag as I could. I'd have my crappy lunch days where all my food was last night's leftovers. I lived for the days where I had packed a king's feast in the form of Cajun chicken pasta.

I was so used to packing my own lunch that by senior year I was surprised to find out some of my friends still had their parents packing it for them. Some days they would complain how they didn't like what they were given or how their mom forgot to pack their favorite snack.

One thing wrong and their whole lunch was messed up and they were in a bad mood. It was a "smh" moment because at this point making lunch had just become part of my routine I couldn't understand how others couldn't fathom the idea of making their own every day. After watching my friends lose it over an inadequate lunch I grew grateful that my parents forced me to start making my own.

Rather than someone else being in control, I was in control of what went into my lunch. I could either put the effort into cooking mac n' cheese, cutting strawberries, packing all the snacks or I could throw in a PB&J with chips and call it a night. The work I put into it was what I got out of it. I was in charge of whether my lunch could be the best part of my day or the worse. Life works in the same way.

You get out of it what you're willing to put in and the sooner you take charge the quicker you get the hang of it. Either way, it'll happen eventually. Doing things yourself for the first time can be a disaster and it should be because you learn from all the mistakes and eventually find out what works for you.

You can jam pack your life with all the metaphorical snacks that you love or keep letting mom and dad pack it for you. Just like my nine-year-old self found out, it sucks to start doing things for yourself. Most of the time you'd much rather just let someone else do it for you, but ultimately you learn that you have to just pack your own lunch.