At what point does one become an actual adult? Is it real? Does it actually happen at a set date? Technically we could say eighteen years old, but a birthday cannot quite guarantee responsibility or actual readiness for adult life. This past spring, a friend and I were joking that there should be some sort of packet for adulthood, a crash-course of some kind to prepare us for the things ahead, from practical things like taxes to harder things like decisions and priorities. Perhaps, we joked, there was some kind of payment we had to make, like a certain number of panic attacks or a certain level of stress or a certain number of hours. As much as we would wish for this sort of organized lead-in to adulthood, real life is never that simple. Looking back on how I, as a younger person, thought of growing up, it all seems a bit silly. Grown-ups seemed like magical creatures who just knew what to do in pretty any situation. Life itself gives the lie to that notion. I think many of us are quite competent, but we invariably encounter situations in which we just sort of muddle along--and it's usually totally fine.
Something I encountered when I moved away to college was the odd moment when you try to do something—whether it be moving furniture or trying to deal with finicky technology—and think ‘I just really need an adult to help with this,’ and subsequently come to the unpleasant realization that you are the adult. So then you amend the statement to ‘Well, I need an adult-ier adult. Someone who can adult better.’ Luckily most of us can call someone or get someone over to help us sort things out, but that lingering feeling of discomfort remains. How do you become the person who is technically the adult, as in that person who can be left alone with children to look after, be trusted with other tasks that are only given to adults, sign off on things and various other delights of adulthood. This is not the fun part of adulthood that lets you eat whatever you want and stay up however late you like, this is the vaguely confusing part that happens while you’re not paying attention.
A quote, widely attributed to different people in different forms, is to the effect of “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” It certainly seems true enough. There are sometimes unexpected moments in which i feel far more adult than I would have anticipated. My excitement over things like furniture and room fixtures sometimes makes me laugh at myself—after an uncomfortable moment when I think, ‘Is this what getting older feels like??’ Actually putting together Ikea furniture, successfully moving into a new house or apartment or really stepping up for a job or new opportunity are all moments I can point to and say: Yes, I did that, I might just be a little bit farther on the way to being an adult.
On the eve of another birthday, this time not an exciting, newly-legal birthday, adulthood seems more real and less like a hazy, shiny fantasy of a far-off someday. Somehow that idea seems less terrifying than I would have thought. Even a year ago I probably would have said I would be more concerned about this impending thing called adult life, but it seems like it all might turn out okay. Funnily enough, while I was busy doing other things, it seems I got just the experience I needed to handle my life.
