When I was a kid, I thought someone in their twenties was an actual, real adult.
For me, I was far from being an adult in my early twenties. I was a full-time student making little dollars at my pet crematorium/salon receptionist job. I was a *tad* financially dependent on my parents. I partook in some light partying.
I thought once I graduated, got a job, and moved out, I would be an Official Adult. But something was missing, and I felt like a big kid with her own apartment and a job.
I thought for sure when I got married, I would instantly feel like an adult. But I didn’t.
Becoming a parent had to be that magical moment when I would feel like a real adult, but I had Postpartum Depression with both kids. And that just made me feel like a giant fake adult pretending to be a parent.
How could this be? At the time, I was thirty-one years old, married with two kids and a mortgage? Those are all very adult things, and I still felt like I wasn’t legit.
I think, for me, it has been a long, subtle process of evaluating my habits and general outlook on life. I’ve had to ask a lot of questions: Why do I think this way? Why do I react this way? Is this my true reaction or something hanging on from other influences?
It’s been through choosing my own path.
It’s about learning a new dance.
It’s been about honoring my instincts.
And knowing my inner voice is wiser than the part of me that craves validation and acceptance from others.
This becoming an adult thing? It’s not easy. I work on it Every. Damn. Day.
Some days are hard. That pesky measuring stick of what I *should* be doing and how I *should* be doing it is hard to put away. And other days I am clicking along, feeling good about my choices even though they might be different choices.
Like I said, becoming my own person has not been easy for me. But that feeling of freedom that comes being this evolved version of myself, that feeling of lightness – it’s all been worth it.
I am better to those around me when I am not comparing myself to others or trying to do things others may have done them.
I am me.
And that’s what being an adult means to me.
When did you feel like an adult?