Adulting

As a child, I thought that the beginning and ending of adulting was going to work and paying bills. I am realizing now that adulting is really what was discussed in those whispered conversations between the women in my life that always shut down when I walked in the room.
It seems that ever since I turned 30, it has been a parade of bad news, this year being the worst. One of my friends was diagnosed with a very scary autoimmune disease, while another was just arrested over the holiday for stabbing someone to death. And the grim reaper has truly come to slay, snatching grandparents, parents, friends, and even newborns out of my friends' lives.
I find that I am becoming numb to everyone's sequences of unfortunate events, as well as my own. When a friend tells me she is getting divorced or is in crippling debt, my emotions don't even allow me to process the news. I just sigh and pray on it. There is really nothing else to do.
And this is where social media gets confusing. While the bad news parade marches on, I go on Instagram to see people I went to college with partying, traveling, and having an amazing time. Upon further investigation, I now suspect that many of these people might be functioning alcoholics, committed to dancing and globetrotting the blues away. Adulting has taught me that the only way to deal with an issue is to deal with it, but for once I would like to cry over life at some hot nightclub off the coast of Jamaica rather than on my living room floor.
Don't get me wrong, there are good times. People are getting hitched, starting new jobs, and expanding their families. However, the good news is not seeming to outweigh the bad. One engagement announcement on Facebook is followed by R.I.P wishes to cousins and funeral announcements.
If I had to define adulting, I would define it as trying to live your best life while running with the devil nipping at your heals. Better get you some good sneakers.