Sitting here and sipping my coffee can’t help but wonder what being an adult actually is. I remember those teenage years when I kept yelling at my parents that I can’t wait to grow up and be my own boss. Do whatever I want whenever I want. Buy whatever I want and also go wherever I want without having to give explanations regarding who am I going with and what time will I come back.
I also remember my mum liking one of my friends (a good boy as she referred to him as) and trusting him so much. He used to come over my house and ask if he can take me to certain parties. We used to part ways as soon as we were out of my mum’s sight and have a meeting spot for the morning so it will look like we actually went together. I mean, we didn’t have any common friends and he had a girlfriend so by the rules of a seventeen year it would have been impossible for us to actually attend the same parties. Tell your parents that and see if they understand (the 90s parents).
Looking back I smile and realise just how naive I was. I wanted to grow up and be independent, craving freedom to take decisions of any sort, not actually seeing adulthood for what is is: A TRAP
It was so easy back then and I should have taken advantage of it. Someone else doing your dirty work. Cooking and cleaning for you, making sure you got the clean clothes, trying to infuse some good in your brain, showing the way and paying for all your stuff. Give me that now. I’ll take it with both hands without complaining.
Now I am the one in charge. Taking care of a child, raising her and giving her values in life; showing her good and bad. Also the one who has to keep the house clean, feed the child, make sure her clothes are clean, bills are paid and things don’t brake din the house and it’s so damn exhausting. I am the adult but somehow don’t quite feel like one.
I am not even sure what an adult is supposed to be like. I only imagined that once I hit thirty, things will change and like a miracle, overnight, I will become someone else. My mind will suddenly develop and I will be this responsible human being, my clothes will be different and I will see everything around me with different eyes. But, see, this year I will be forty and I still haven’t felt that change into adulthood.
Yes, I am different than I was eight, ten years ago and moving countries made me feel like I lived two completely different lives but deep down I am still the same nerd I’ve always been. Still insecure and trying to make everyone happy on the expense of my own happiness. Still trying to change the world with my words but not actually having the courage to take action, afraid of being my won self so I won’t upset others.
I am also that girl who loves her friends, enjoys drinking wine and talking until morning, the won who will give you advice when you need advice and your shoulder to cry on when you need one. I am also the mother who is making efforts to raise a strong and independent girl who won’t be afraid to speak her mind. I am the mother who does everything for her child without asking anything in return and I am the woman who loves unconditionally and want to be loved just the same in return.
Am I an adult though? This I have no clue because I don’t think anyone does. It’s just a myth and we are all trying to reach this level in life without realizing that it’s a trap. We are who we are and we shouldn’t be guided by society’s vision of self at a certain stage in life. There is no adulthood. It’s just us. We grow, we learn, we develop and we become a different version of what we were before responsibilities took over.
We grow up and learn that patience is a virtue. We grow up and change taste in just about everything: music, ways of having fun, people and passions. We don’t have as much free time as we used to and this sucks but on the other hand, we learn to appreciate more the little time we do have for ourselves. We don’t lose weight as easily and the energy levels are going down. We do things we swore we will never do and we learn to work with or for people we hate. We become procrastinators and monotonous at times but is this adulthood? Are all these what make an adult? Are we suppose to become boring human beings in order to be called adults? Cause if we are, I am definitely there yet. I am finding myself in few of these criteria but am I monotonous? Do I have less energy? (I find myself having more energy now than ten years ago). I still love the same music and I still haven’t lost my passion for writing. Maybe changed the style a bit. Let’s face it. I am the same only with much more responsibility. I may see things in a different light but it’s still me.