Parenting
Won’t You Help Me Navigate Adulthood?
by Laura Jennings
Updated: Jan. 29, 2016
Originally Published: Dec. 26, 2014
As I mark my 40th birthday today, I reflect on the many signs of aging I’ve experienced: I’ve been dyeing my hair for about 15 years due to premature graying, I diligently apply wrinkle cream, and my body makes amusingly creaky sounds when I stand up too quickly. Yet, despite these physical indicators, I don’t truly feel like an adult.
I often find myself waiting for that transformative moment—the “aha!” experience—when everything will suddenly click, and I will embody the adult I’ve always imagined I’d be. However, that moment seems elusive.
When I graduated from college, I thought it was perfectly normal to still feel like a child. My first job, my first apartment, and the first car I purchased independently seemed like appropriate markers of adulthood, yet I often felt more like I was playing a role than genuinely growing up. Even when I married my husband, I assumed that this milestone would trigger a significant shift in my maturity. We would have sophisticated conversations over dinner on our matching dinnerware. But instead, there was no dramatic emotional transformation.
In my childhood, I distinctly remember how mature my parents appeared. By the time they reached my current age, they had purchased their forever home, established college funds for my siblings and me, and left behind the carefree aspects of their younger years. They rarely listened to contemporary music, dressed in a more refined manner, and took a keen interest in the news. They diligently read all sections of the newspaper, not just the Lifestyle section. My mother volunteered at church, while my father referred to his younger co-workers as “those kids at the office.” They seemed too preoccupied with providing for our family and community to ponder their own purpose or fulfillment, inadvertently leaving little opportunity to share their wisdom with us.
The birth of my first child was my first glimpse into adulthood. I had hoped for a more dramatic awakening, but instead, I settled for a subtle realization. Being responsible for another person is indeed a monumental task, and through my sleep-deprived haze, I occasionally recognized that I was no longer a child myself, having just brought one into the world. Yet, I knew individuals who became parents during high school or college, and they certainly didn’t seem any more mature. Once I adjusted to the demands of caring for a baby, I felt like just a woman with a child, still engrossed in celebrity gossip. This was sufficient for me at the time, particularly since I was the first among my friends to embark on parenthood. At 30, my age didn’t significantly influence my adult functioning.
When my eldest started preschool, I attended a parents’ meeting filled with a collective of seemingly accomplished individuals. They owned homes, drove minivans, and had retirement accounts. They crafted seasonal wreaths for their doors and consistently sent thank-you cards. They embodied the kind of parenting my own parents had demonstrated. In contrast, I showed up in my Doc Martens, a nose ring, and without a life planner, hoping to blend into the background among this group. I yearned to emulate them, but I was unsure how to adopt what appeared to come so naturally to them.
Over the years, I’ve made some strides. I’ve begun jotting down important appointments in a notebook, occasionally wear nicer shoes, and have even embraced changing the wreath on the front door of our townhouse, which we purchased five years ago. With four children now, I also navigate the world in a minivan, the finest vehicle I’ve ever owned. I’ve pushed myself to adopt some of the grown-up behaviors I’ve observed in the actual adults around me, yet honestly, I still sometimes forget that I am indeed an adult. In fact, I’m old enough to be the parent of an adult. Perhaps one of them could teach me how to truly be an adult.
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In summary, navigating adulthood can often feel perplexing and overwhelming, as many of us grapple with our own definitions of maturity and responsibility. Embracing the journey with all its ups and downs is key, and sometimes, we just need to take a moment to realize that we are, indeed, adults.