Look at me, I’m a grownup.

I have a hard time seeing myself as an adult. I don’t quite know why. I don’t act particularly youthfully, I choose sleep over makeup most of the time, and my social life has plummeted since two kids came into the picture. My partner and I talk about things like politics, the rising costs of things like hydro and produce, and mortgage refinancing. I work a regular 8:30-4:30 job and drink obscene amounts of coffee to negate the exhaustion that two kids bring.

So I look like a grownup. Talk like a grownup. Act like a grownup.

Must be a grownup?

Looking back, adulthood was so…final. It was the end point. When I was growing up I think that my parents (two baby-boomers) taught me what they knew. You grew up and finished high school and became an adult with responsibilities. Now you work your job, provide for your family, and then eventually, if you’ve played your cards right, you will get to retire. To finally relax.

The reality is that I have very few things figured out. I want more for my life. I want to go back to school, to learn, to try new things. I spend a lot of time being hard on myself for not being there yet. Not having reached the end goal, the end point.

Though I do imagine, whenever I finally get to that point, it won’t seem final yet either.

Perhaps what I’m in need of is a full re-evaluation of what adulthood truly is.

I think my thirties will be just as much a time of change and exploration as my twenties. That change might look different, and may come at a slower pace and with much more effort, but it will come.

I’m not destined to live a stagnant life. The change will come.

And despite all gut feelings pointing to the contrary, I am a grownup too, I suppose


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