growing up

I have been steadfastly ignoring the new year because - let’s be honest - January 1st is a completely arbitrary date, but I can’t ignore the birthday I have looming up ahead of me. I’ll be turning 22 in a day or so an hour, and that’s that - I won’t officially be considered all that young anymore. In fact, some might even say that I’m an “adult.”  

I’ve recently begun fearing 22 with an almost religious fervor. Being 21 means you’re young, and you can do things like lose your cell phone while out all night partying, or not have any idea what a checkbook is, much less how to balance one and somehow, it’s charming. It’s funny how 21 means the beginning of your autonomy, but barely a year later, 22 marks the slow descent into growing up and being pressed down by the weight of all the responsibilities you didn’t even know you had. 

As someone who has only marginally crossed the fence into adulthood, I don’t imagine that I have many insights into the whole mystery of “being an adult” - but I do know one big thing that I never quite realized as a kid, and that’s this:

Adults don’t know any more than children do. Adults, like children, don’t have a fucking clue what is going on. 

They’ve just had more time to figure out how to fake their competence. In my year at home, I’ve seen my own parents drop this pretense in front of me more and more. My mom looks at me blankly when I explain all the forms she has to fill out for her brother’s immigration, or how to not-procrastinate on renewing our cell phone contract. She admits to hating housework with a passion (truly, I am her daughter). 

This anagnorisis is, of course, nothing new. People discover and re-discover this all the time. It is an age-old realization. 

But something I think people of my generation (which I cannot pretend to speak for, but will do so anyway) are incredibly guilty of doing is using this recognition in order to excuse their own inability to grow up. We see more and more movies and instances of pop culture celebrating the child-like adult: Bridesmaids, Young Adult, The Hangover, every Judd Apatow movie ever made, and so on. Reviving childhood icons like Pokemon, or Power Rangers, or the Rugrats, is cool. (I am beyond guilty of this. See: the Disneyland annual pass in my pocket.) I think the problem occurs when we become unable to move past this glorification of our own past. 

Growing up is incredibly hard to do. It involves realizing that no one really has a clue what is going on, but somehow going on anyway. It involves putting one foot in front of the other with no guarantees that you’re stepping on solid ground. It involves pretending to have it all together, even though you don’t, and - this is important - being a little more forgiving when you realize other people don’t as well. 

Realize that you might not ever figure out what it is you want to do with your life. Realize that your life’s calling might not ever come to you. That doesn’t mean that you put your whole life on pause trying to figure it out. Keep moving forward. Life will happen, whether you decide to participate in it or not. As for me, I’d rather be there for it.