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I’m in My 30s and Still Waiting to Feel Like a Grown-Up
I pay taxes, manage a mortgage, juggle bills, clip coupons, and schedule doctor appointments — the whole adulting shebang. I even carry ibuprofen in my purse, just in case. On the surface, I seem to be nailing this grown-up gig, but the truth is, I’m still waiting for that magical moment when I’ll finally feel like one.
I always imagined that once I hit a certain age, the “adult” switch would flip on. I thought it would happen when I moved into my first apartment, bought my first car, cast my first vote, or celebrated my first legal drink (even if I may have regressed a bit in maturity at that point). I expected the transformation when I became a wife, a mother, and a homeowner. Surely, one morning I’d wake up and feel utterly competent, like I was finally deserving of respect.
Yet, here I am, still feeling like I’m walking in someone else’s oversized shoes. I look the part and have been entrusted with the massive responsibility of raising four kids, but I still feel like an impostor among my fellow adults. Sometimes I catch myself talking to a college student born the year I graduated high school and suddenly feel washed up instead of grown-up.
Sure, there are moments when I catch a glimpse of that “real adult” feeling, especially after surviving a particularly taxing day, but just as quickly, I’m reminded that I’m still fumbling through life. I’ll encounter a situation that seems second nature to everyone else my age, leaving me clueless and wondering if I’ll ever truly feel like an adult.
Maybe it’s because I’m a 30-something woman who still races up the basement stairs when I turn off the light. Or perhaps it’s the way I burst into laughter at silly memes or quote Napoleon Dynamite. I even practice my twerking (badly) in the mirror when I think no one is watching, and I’m guilty of indulging in ice cream for breakfast after the kids head off to school.
I picture other adults sipping their morning coffee (which I still can’t seem to appreciate) while they peruse the paper, their minds filled with serious thoughts. They have plans, goals, and portfolios, while I’m just trying to navigate life one day at a time, praying for the best outcome.
As the years zoom by and I’m reminded that I’m not getting any younger, I realize that I’m stumbling through life, not quite the self-assured adult I envisioned. I keep waiting for someone to call me out on my charade, to see through my façade and reveal that I’m not nearly as grown-up as I appear.
Maybe when my kids are all grown, when I’ve finally accepted my gray hair, or when I hear the sweet sound of “Grandma” from a little one, I’ll finally feel validated in my adulthood. Or perhaps these milestones will be just like the others — fleeting moments that leave me pondering, “If not now, when?”
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Summary:
Being in my 30s feels like I’m constantly pretending to be an adult while waiting for that elusive feeling of maturity. Despite managing responsibilities like bills and raising kids, I often feel out of my depth. I’ve anticipated feeling like a grown-up at various milestones, but each time I’m left wondering if and when that moment will finally arrive.