Just yesterday a nurse and I were reflecting on the passage of time, exclaiming that it was already the tenth of the month.
Even as I spoke, I knew how very adult I sounded, how old.
“Time flies” the nurse said, “and it flies faster the older you are.”
That was in way of warning.
When did I become an adult?
When am I going to become an adult?
Somehow I’ve managed to settle into those mundanities of adult life without attaining what I thought was the reality of adult life.
The letters behind my name say I’m an adult, a professional. I have a career. Doctors take me seriously when I write recommendations. They consult me. Sometimes they even give me order-writing privileges.
Do they know that I’m not an adult inside?
The class that’s under my care says I’m an adult. I’m a Sunday School teacher, a believer entrusted with second and third-grader’s minds and hearts.
Do they know that I’m not an adult inside?
Somehow I thought that being an adult would mean I’d have everything figured out–or at least that my questions would move on to a more theoretical plane since the practicals would become easy.
Somehow I thought that being an adult would mean I’d want to do the same thing day in and day out, and that I wouldn’t get bored. Somehow I thought I’d outgrow the hunger for novelty.
Somehow I thought that being an adult would mean it’d be easy to keep my room clean, to fold my laundry as soon as it comes out of the dryer, to do the dishes before they pile up beside the sink.
But somehow one side of adulthood has found me and the other eluded me.
It makes me wonder if “adult” is really all I made it out to be.
Maybe adulthood doesn’t mean getting over the boredom. Maybe adults simply keep going despite the boredom.
Maybe adulthood doesn’t mean keeping the house in tip-top shape all the time. Maybe adults just keep on working towards order when everything gets out of control.
Maybe adulthood doesn’t mean knowing all the answers. Maybe it means continuing on even when you don’t have all the answers.
Maybe the emotional roller-coaster never will stop. Maybe adults just pop and Dramamine and get down to business despite it.
I don’t know.
When do I become an adult?
I like this post. I feel the same way, and I’m waaaay older than you!
I think your last section about sums it up. :-) I think the best adults still have a sense of childlikeness (as opposed to childishness) about them.
Some parts of us seem to never “grow up.” But in those moments when you feel least grown-up know this: God knows and loves the child inside of you. He says, “Child, you are mine.” He rejoices over you. He has loved you with an everlasting love. Nothing can separate you from His love. He will never leave you or forsake you. He holds you in the palm of His hand.
I like Madeleine L’Engle’s comment that she is many ages, all the time. I feel like that. I am still the 5-year-old kicking through the thick piles of leaves on Main Street on my way to school. I am still the college student who exulted at the scrawled praise of my favorite professor on my blue book. And now I’m “Mommy” to two other humans who trouble my peace the way love does. I think we’re always growing up, but it’s more like we’re an increasing multitude of selves than one single mature one.
(Big help with this philosophizing, aren’t I? Sheesh.)
I agree with Janet. I often find myself thinking that I’ll do more “adult things” one day (like carry a purse or actually know how to put on makeup that looks good) and then I realize…if I’m almost 40 I’m pretty much an adult.
When I was first out of residency I often felt like I was pretending to be a doctor and someone was going to walk up and say “hey little girl, nice toy stethoscope but now it’s time for you to leave it to us”. That feeling has gone away for the most part but sometimes it’s still there.
I think part of being an adult is realizing that there is no magic age when you have it all together and know what your are doing…and yet you keep going and do your best.