Because in the end, Wendy leaves Neverland.

Alice awakens from Wonderland, and even Audrey Hepburn returns to her princess duties at the end of Roman Holiday.

There is a pervasive idea, in me, and I suspect in many of my generation, that if we hold out long enough, things will “fall into place.” That, like a combination safe, if we only knew the correct combination, just the right number for the one that’s marked Career, Romance, Family, all the cylinders would fall into place with that magic clicking sound, the vault would unlock -- *angelic voices sing “Ahh!”* -- and Oz would open to us.

Unfortunately, Dorothy also awakens from Oz.

I met with my friend who’s a depth hypnotherapist yesterday, and we plumbed such psychic depths that I poured out a gallon of tears, and not paltry breakthroughs.

One said breakthrough was about this Adulthood thing again. About taking responsibility, which is the opposite of the belief that things will “fall into place.” Instead, I am told, I’m going to have to become willing to re-parent myself. To take responsibility to care for myself – which apparently doesn’t just mean trips to the spa, and that nice new pair of earrings.

Apparently, caring for myself, parenting myself, becoming a responsible homosapien adult in the 21^st century means what it means to any parent: rules, discipline, boundaries, support, encouragement, love. It means sending the kid to school even though they don’t want to go, but you, as the parent, know it’s what’s best for them. It means not feeding them junk, even though that’s the quicker, easier thing to do, but taking the time to prepare something healthy, and washing the dishes when you’re done, because it’s simply your job as the grown-up.

I means encouraging the 30 minutes of music practice a day, the two hours of solid homework, because you know that after a month or a year, those half hours will add to something more, even though it is not instant gratification.

Adulthood means giving up the illusion of instant gratification, letting go of the idea that Oz will appear if you hold your breath as you pass cemeteries and let someone cut in front of you on the highway. There is no “tit for tat” here. There is no Cosmic Score Board, where my good deeds are ranked, and my bad deeds are demerits. The payoff of the good deed is the thing itself. The payoff of doing the dishes is the ease with which to cook on them again. There may not be a pat on the back for this; but that doesn't mean it's not worth doing. 

This may all seem like elementary to you (and I use that term with purpose), but to me, it’s not. I did not learn these things in elementary school, or at any other grade or age I’ve been.

I learned yesterday in this meditation/therapy session that my magical thinking must end. That I’m going to have to accumulate new experiences for the Experience Bank that will provide evidence that hard work is worth the effort -- just for its own sake. Because I’ve never tried hard work, I have no idea if that’s true.

But, I deserve better “parents” than the one I’ve been being to myself. I deserve better than ice cream for dinner and wide television eyes. Children need boundaries, structure, predictability, stability. No one can offer these to me. Not a job, a boyfriend, even a “god.” I can have, or ask for help from Sources within/without me, but, in the end, I’m the only one who can give myself what I need.

And I need to grow up.

I need to wake up.