Moratorium

Moratorium; it's another word for exploration, for scouting out meaning in our messy, delicately-painted lives. It's one of Erik Erikson's stages of identity development.

I'm taking an adolescent psychology class this semester and it's teaching me more about myself than any other psych course has thus far. It's surprising to find out that even though I'm able to drink legally and vote for President and drive a car across the country and heck, live outside of this country on my own free will, that I am, technically speaking, still going through adolescence.

Weird, right? I can get a tattoo, I can get married, have a baby, and live in Africa. I can hold a job and smoke a cigarette and say unruly things when I get angry. I don't technically have to listen to my parent's advice, but anymore, it's an old, welcome friend.

I can do whatever I please, essentially. But I'm still an adolescent. It's not like I'm still going through puberty - at 21, however, I still hone some traits of the adolescent, as does every 21 year old, and every single one of my friends.

Moratorium. Identity Foreclosure. Identity Diffusion. Identity Achieved. Right now, out of those four lovely categories Erikson decides to place people in, I am in Moratorium. I am in search of. I am in contrast to. I am looking for.

Decisions are hard for me right now. Committment is even worse. I don't want to settle for anything. I don't want to settle down. I don't know anything, I realize. So, I'm searching.

I have two months, I tell myself, to figure things out. Things like which state I'd like to search for a job in. Things like if I really want to move so far away from my family that I won't be able to make it home for holidays. Things like, what in the world am I supposed to do if I don't find a job when I graduate? You know, simple things.

I'm not quite panicking, not yet. Just searching, sniffing out options, keeping my mind open and attuned to everything.

Often, I still feel like a toddler playing dress up in my mom's clothes. The heels are three sizes too big, I'm swimming in the business suit, and the lipstick that was supposed to apply nicely to my lips has also landed on my cheeks and chin. I applied bronzer instead of blush. My mistake.

Is it bad that while everything else is happening around me, all I can think about is getting a dog? Because I do. It's on my mind 24/7. I dream about a dog. A dog is stable. A dog seems definite amongst these upcoming major life decisions that I'm hesitant to face.

So, call me a single-minded adolescent. Moratorium is safe, until I have to move. Until I have to move.