What up, I'm Pam, I'm 24 and I Never Learned How To F***ing Do Anything

As I’m approaching my mid-twenties, I grow more and more anxious every day. Okay, who am I kidding? This anxiety I’ve carried with me since I was able to feel fear. But it’s morphed and grown and shrunk and manifested itself in countless ways throughout my life. And lately it’s become a whisper between my conscious and subconscious about growing old and wandering through life with no purpose or plan. It’s great to be an adult with the freedom to do as I please and the comfort of having a stable and well-paying job. I know I’m lucky and privileged, but I also acknowledge how easy it would be to simply stop caring - to fall into a pleasant routine and watch the months and years dwindle and pass me by. I am going to take that anxiety and make it work for me. All the years that I focused and got myself into gear to conquer life as a college graduate, also made for a perfect excuse to not grow in other ways. I procrastinated exercising my creativity. I’ve always had the need for an outlet, but a busy schedule made it easy for me to push it away. I suddenly find myself at adulthood’s door as a person with no concrete way of expressing myself and my passion for life’s beauty.

That was my drawn out way of getting to the point: I don’t have any real hobbies. Sure I love taking pictures, I love making a mess in the kitchen attempting bakes and dishes, sure I love taking walks in nature with my dog. I love reading and writing and making pretty things, but I haven’t found one true passion. Maybe I don’t have to. I just know there are countless of things I want to try and skills that I want to develop and just haven’t made the time to sit down and do. So that is the primary reason I’m starting this blog. I’m manifesting it into the universe and I’m holding myself accountable to trying new things.

(Current “hobbies” Include: Exploring with my pup, hand lettering, baking, hiking)

I’ve let fear control me for far too long - fear of failure, fear of judgement, fear of rejection. But no longer. And I know I’m being awfully dramatic for a girl who’s about to fill her apartment with plants and pick up some watercolors, but it’s a big step for me, okay? I’m willing to share my truth (failures and messiness and patheticness and all). If you care to follow along in this journey, then let’s do the damn thing.