Welcome to adulthood
One of the worst things we do, I think, is convincing
ourselves that our problems are all part and parcel of being an adult. I
tweeted recently about how tired I was and someone left a reply along the lines
of ‘welcome to adulthood’. They didn’t mean anything by it, but I thought, “no!”
We need to stop convincing ourselves that being an adult
means killing ourselves, because it shouldn’t be. These past few days have been
exhausting. I’ve been physically and mentally drained. Last week, I remember
waiting for a bus and biting my lip to stop it from trembling. I remember
blinking away tears. I remember not talking because I couldn’t stop my voice
from doing that weird thing it does before you start crying.
I remember waking up hating myself. Thinking about all the
different ways my life could just end and hating myself for hating the universe
for not putting me in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I hated myself. I hated that I couldn’t love going to work.
I hated that words had become the enemy. I hated that I rarely read because I
was tired of letters. I was tired or reading and writing. Being told to do this
and that. Having deadlines.
I hated that I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t meet deadlines. I
couldn’t deliver as promised. I needed a break. But whenever one job ended, and
I gave myself a break and took a nap or watched a film, I hated myself for not
getting the other job done.
What was I doing? Why couldn’t I take control of my body and
mind? Why was I wasting time?
Why was my mind and body so fucking exhausted?
Is this what it means to be an adult?
We all have jobs. I have a good thing going for me. I don’t
have an 8-5 five days a week job. I don’t have bills to pay or groceries to buy
or meals to cook. I have a good life and yet I was struggling. Why?
Shouldn’t I just stop fighting it? I should give in to it.
Accept adulthood for what it is. Get my shit together. Work even harder. Do my
very best and then some more. Stop giving myself breaks. This is what adulthood
is about, isn’t it?
I’m 25. I have never had a fulltime job. I signed a contract
for the first time just last year, despite having worked more or less since I
left school in 2012. While my friends got into relationships and got married
and had kids, I wondered how they had time to even go on a date. Hell, how did
they find time to even works towards a date?
How do you find the energy to have a social life? How to
find the time to do anything but work and hate yourself for not working more?
Did being an adult mean I had to strip my life of anything
that wasn’t somehow related to work?
No.
I’m tired. I need breaks. I need to prioritize the rights
things, even if it means telling someone you can’t rewrite that article for the
fourth time simply because you’ve made plans to meet your friends. Even if it
means saying you can’t be at office five days a week and take on more work
because you want to be at home with your cats.
I was doing things wrong. I was taking more things than I
can handle because I thought that that’s what adults do. But what adults do is
listen to their minds and their bodies and make others listen to them.
An adult won’t be a slave to their jobs or society or their
parents. An adult will fight for themselves, even if that fight is against
themselves.
I miss pouring my heart out into blogs. I miss writing what
I felt instead of quoting other people and discussing topics that didn’t
personally affect me. I miss what words used to mean to me.
There was a tweet going around recently about what you
wanted to be when you were five. People answered with scientist or astronaut or
teacher. So many career ambitions. Some achieved as an adult. Some left behind
in childhood.
When I was five, I didn’t want to be anything. Not because I
wanted to be anything and everything but because I didn’t know you had to be
something when you grew up. Sure, both my parents had jobs but at five, this
just meant not seeing my parents for most of the day. It meant spending hours
with my grandmother. It meant playing with my cousins all day.
It never meant that I too, would someday have to work. It
never occurred to me at five that I needed to be anything but what I was
already.
And my heart breaks that I forgot this along the way. I know
I need a job to earn money and live a ‘comfortable’ life. But what I forgot was
that this shouldn’t come in exchange for who I was. I needed to find a way to
work for that comfortable life while still being happy, while still doing the
things I love.
This is what it means to be an adult.
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