Becoming an adult

Reflections on aging

What does it mean to grow up? What does it mean to become an adult?

These are two questions I’ve grappled with more recently. At 26, I’m no longer as much of the idealistic, starry-eyed girl I was throughout my teens and earlier twenties. I no longer believe in limitless success and opportunity or that if you only have the courage to pursue your dreams, you’ll accomplish more than you’d believe.

I don’t know if giving up ideas like “if you work hard enough, you’ll make it” or “if you never give up, you’ll make it” or “if you network enough, you’ll make it” has made me more pessimistic and cynical about how the world works. Because my entrance into adulthood looks nothing like I thought it would. I honestly don’t even know what “making it” looks like.

I’m still living at home with my family. I haven’t started my own family yet, nor do I see myself doing so until I’m a lot more financially secure.

I don’t have to pay rent, but I do have to remain accountable to my parents as to where I am and who I’m with.

I haven’t experienced what it’s like to meal prep or do my own laundry. I don’t have to pay the bills because my parents do that already.

And yet most of the conversations I’ve had with friends nowadays revolve around housing, jobs, the pandemic, dating, relationships, politics, credit and loans, aging, and other more serious topics.