I know what you are thinking; “Great, another millennial kid with too much time on her hands questioning the meaning of life”. I would not say I have too much time on my hands that’s for sure, but I do question a lot of things. And I am not the only one. Probably because the rarely questioned straight line most of us once followed throughout life (studies, job, marriage, kids, house, career…) is not so straight anymore.
When I was a kid, me and my younger sister thought that we would one night go to bed and wake up as adults. We expected some kind of transformation, a rite of passage or such. We figured it should come around 18 or 20 years old. So, we waited, and waited…and waited. We are now both way over 20 and we had to recognize that nothing of the sort happened. And ever since, I could not help but wonder…when do you become an adult?
One of my friends once told me; “You realize you are an adult the day something happens and you start looking for the adult in charge, and realize it’s you”. Scary thought. But still, I am a 30-year-old g̶i̶r̶l̶…woman who struggles to call herself that. When I say girl, I feel silly, when I say woman, I feel like people are going to correct me.
Does paying your own bills make you an adult? Owning your own place?
I do all that, but still feel like in limbo between childhood and womanhood, like a very very old and awkward teen. We all meet some people in our lifetime that will never grow up, and still, they manage to pay rent and go to work. But I am not childish, put aside my love for the color pink and Disney princesses that is. I’m fully aware I am not a child anymore and I am not even that fond of kids to be honest.
It’s not like I want to stay home and play Barbie doll all day long. I could not even if I wanted to. Have you ever tried to play Barbie again since you gave it up? That or Lego or Playmobile? I did, a few years back when I was cleaning up my room and found a massive box of Playmobile and remembered how I used to mark out rooms and houses with pens and pencils and play for hours with our Playmobile families with my sister. I took some out and tried to “play”. I could not. Nothing. I was bored after 2 minutes, not to mention I felt super silly. So maybe that is it, you become an adult the day you forget how to play out your own stories in your imaginary world where a pencil acts as a wall and a piece of toilet paper as a blanket. But when do you forget how to play?
Does having kid make you an adult? But what If I never want kids? Am I doomed to stay in limbo forever? Or do your own parents, the very representation of “adults” in your life have to, God forbid, leave this earth for you to feel like an adult? When I was 8, a 20-year-old was an adult. When I was 20, a 30-year-old was an adult. Now that I am 30, other 30-year-olds are either adults or my limbo companions. It depends of the vibe they send. I sometimes talk to 24 years old and feel like a kid next to them, old souls…so I wonder…what image do I send back to people?
When I googled the definition of “adult” the first thing that came up was “a person who is fully grown or developed and mature”. Interesting. I am fully grown in the physiological sense of the term. But fully developed and mature? At 30? I hope not. I hope I still have years and years of hanging to that branch that is life, receiving nutrients from the sun and the rain, learning and improving, experiencing and growing to, in the end, turn into a perfectly ripe and mature adult!
I guess until then, I will just fake it until I make it, because, come to think of it, “adult” is just another label that comes with preconceived notions and responsibilities that we are all trying to deal with in our own way, day by day.
By: Morgane Oleron / Photo cred