You’re a Grown Up Baby, Now What?

Being the baby of the family should be a pretty sweet gig. You get whatever you want. No one can pick on you. They can but they get in trouble and you don’t. You are made to feel like the most important and awesome person in the world.

From birth, I was made of gold and existed at the center of the very universe itself.  I was a most unique and special creature.


Since I was the baby, I was suffocated well into, well, sometimes now. I was my mother’s baby in particular. When asked a question someone would answer for me. When I went on a field trip, my mother chaperoned. When kids picked on me, my mother like a big mama bear came to school to make sure I was never picked on again. I could do no wrong.

My family was fiercely protective of me. How could this little helpless dainty child take care of herself? I need to be taken care of! I’m the baby!

I was made to feel like I was the best thing ever. I was the cutest and the sweetest. The smartest and most talented.

Even though I wasn’t allowed to do much outside of home and school,  I could do anything I wanted to do. The sky was the limit.



When everyone treated me like I was precious, I truly thought I was special. I thought I was meant for something great. Me and me alone. Like some fabled hero—half Greek god, half human—whose destiny is written in the stars. Those special few that make it into the history books. I was to be one of those people. I was supposed to be the greatest, most awesome human being ever!


I didn’t have to try too hard to be great. I was already great. I didn’t have to work very hard for that applause. The clapping and praise started before I even opened my mouth to sing or put pencil to paper.

As some could imagine it is a huge let down to realize I’m not the greatest talent ever. I actually have to put in the hard work to be. I have to practice. I have to study.

But-but-but I thought I was already the best? Nope.

I had to face the fact that there are tons of people out there that put my work to shame. It is an unsettling feeling when everything I put an effort into fell short of what I thought I could already do.

I have picked up a lot of interests along the way in life. All of which exists in the creative realm. I’m okay at some and better at others. I have a knack for the ones that I’m better at but I could sum all those ventures up into one word: Meh.

I had always wanted to be a prima ballet and taking ballet lessons was disappointing. By then I was 19 years old and what the hell was the point? What for the exercise? Pffft!

I really can’t sing (Terrible, terrible singing voice by the way). I’m too much of a damn nervous introvert to be a great actor. It takes a lot of equipment and resources to become a better than a mediocre filmmaker. As well as having the drive to come up with consistent projects. This also goes for continuously creating artwork.

It is a frustrating existence to have high standards for myself. An ungodly height I haven’t reached nor will I ever.

I fall short of my goals and standards. Every day I fail. I haven’t fulfilled my great epic destiny yet. No crown earned by pulling a sword out of a stone. No bestowing of godlike status for completing great trials.

Everything is out of my reach. I’ve placed it across the sky at a staggering height. I have it all there, idealistic and perfect. Then as I start my ascension to grab hold of something, my insecurities undermine my efforts.

no touch starno starsad no touch star

With my shaky attempt, I don’t even come close to clasping on. My fingers slip on nothingness and I usually fall back to Earth with a loud, sickening thud. Each time though I’m never surprised.

I feel great betrayal when I’ve been told for over half of my life that I’m so great and I could do everything and anything. I tried (and maybe still trying) to do it all. That’s the thing, though, a person has to start with something and maybe more will fall into place. BUT very few people can have a thousand spinning plates and keep ’em all spinning.

Juggling too many projects at once, something is bound to fail.

Yet the most disappointing part of my story is that I don’t stretch myself thin. Thinking I could do everything and anything, I couldn’t decide on one thing to start with. I really don’t have all my plates spinning, if any. As I’ve aged I knew I had to go after something—anything! But I’ve been so confused about what to put my heart into that I put my heart into nothing.


Like I stated earlier, I made some effort with all my interests but couldn’t put my all into them. I can’t seem to put everything that I have into something and then fight tooth and nail in achieving it.


I lay awake at night just thinking about all the things I want to pursue but lack the discipline in doing so.

I’ve been drawing since age 2 and writing stories since age 5. Drawing cartoons and especially writing are the only things that have stayed consistent interests. Dare I say, passions? Even with writing being of the greatest interest to me, it is still something I fight with every day to do. I don’t do it every day. I try. For me, it’s still hard work to put in the hard work.

When it comes to my writing  I should already be great at it. I should have already been a successful published author. One of my books should have been made it a movie by now!

Here I am, almost 30 years old and I’ve barely shared any of my work. And that was only in several short-lived classes that I eventually dropped. I lack drive and motivation. I lack a deep hunger for achieving a dream and reaching a goal.  I lack something that I can’t explain and this only adds to my frustrations.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to start and how to pursue. I’m still feeling my way through the dark and still on shaky legs finding my footing. I panic with each birthday that passes.

My identity has been determined by where I fall in the birth order of my siblings. I hold a special place in my family because I’m the youngest. But I feel this is where my specialness ends. Where do I fit in with the rest of the world?

I’m a grown up baby, so now what?


4 thoughts on “You’re a Grown Up Baby, Now What?

  1. We. Are. The. Same. Person. (well, you know.) Seriously,though….you just put my life story into words!! I’ve always said this – I have soo many loves but can’t put my all into any one of them. I also have been writing stories/articles and drawing since I could hold a pen to paper…I actually JUST this weekend found old notebooks (and one scrapbook – oh but look, even the scrapbook was unfinished! look at that), filllled with drawings, stories, even a few partial songs. It always makes me almost cry, looking back at my youth, seeing what all I was passionate about, but never took ANY of it anywhere. I even always dreamt of being an actor! Making people laugh, cry, the works. But as I grew, I learned at least THIS much about myself: I am a serious introvert. My drawings, I stopped at around 16, feeling like I was just never getting any better (well, I never took classes, so that has everything to do with that) and got so frustrated, I never picked up the pencil to draw again, other than doodles when bored at work. I haven’t made up a story in even more years. It is so very saddening, it is. I have, ALSO, cried at almost every birthday ever, because I don’t want to grow up, I don’t want life to end, because I want to figure out what I am gonna BE already, but life just keeps going faster and faster!!!! :((( I constantly feel like people are judging me for not having it all together, with a degree behind me and a career in hand. (that’s another problem I’m only slighter better at than when I was a teenager – not worrying about what people think of me all the time. Now I don’t care what they think as far as “if I’m cool” or how different I am, involving thoughts, beliefs, fashion choices, whatever, but I still do worry about the judgement of “what is she doing with her life?”) Only difference I find with us, is that I’m not the baby…well, I kinda was for 11 years, until my baby sister came along. But still, I don’t know if that had any influence on how I am, in this way. I just know that I am definitely this grownup baby you speak of!! What are we gonna do, that really is the question.


    1. I mean, seriously, I’m waiting for the “How To” on Buzzfeed to come out for those of us looking for the answer on getting serious about a passion and taking it somewhere!

      And hey, I didn’t write all that to sound dark and depressing….just wanted you to know I am in the SAME boat with you. But really….I mean, it’s ok, we’ll get there…even if, in the end, it turns out that “where we get”… somewhere with a passion we never even had cross our minds. (does that make sense how I wrote it?) We might just get our minds blown! 🙂


      1. Maybe I need to create a Buzzfeed and come up with some possible solutions. You have to admit this whole not knowing what the eff we’re doing is a little dark and depressing. But dark and depressing is ok to deal with every now and then. I feel like our generation is in this grownup baby stage and not knowing what to do. We have so many choices but with so many choices, how do we choose?
        Thanks for reading and commenting!


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