Today marks my 40th birthday. For the last 15 years, I’ve been dyeing my hair due to premature graying, I slather on wrinkle cream, and my body seems to creak if I move too quickly. Yet, I still don’t feel like a grown-up.
I often find myself waiting for that mythical moment—the “aha!” experience—where everything clicks into place and I finally feel like the adult I’m supposed to be. But so far, that moment seems elusive.
Reflecting on My Journey
When I graduated from college, I thought it was normal to still feel like a child. My first job, first apartment, and my first car were all milestones that should have marked my entrance into adulthood. However, I often felt more like I was playing dress-up than stepping into real maturity. Even when I married my husband, I thought surely this was the moment I would transform into the adult I saw on TV and in movies. We’d have sophisticated conversations over gourmet meals served on matching dinnerware. But there was no grand emotional revelation.
I vividly remember how adult my parents seemed when I was a child. By the time they reached my age, they had settled into their forever home, established college funds for us, and shed the remnants of their youthful days. They didn’t listen to pop music; their wardrobe was mature, and they immersed themselves in the news. They read the entire newspaper—not just the fun sections. My mother volunteered at church, while my father called his much younger coworkers “those kids at the office.” They weren’t searching for meaning or fulfillment; they were too busy taking care of their family and community to indulge in such thoughts. In a way, they were so occupied that they didn’t pass on their wisdom to us.
The Birth of My First Child
The birth of my first child was my initial hint of adulthood. I had hoped for a more dramatic moment, but a mere flicker was all I got. Taking care of a tiny human is a hefty responsibility, and during those sleep-deprived nights, I began to realize I was no longer a child because I had just brought one into the world. Still, I knew people who had kids in high school and college, and they certainly didn’t seem grown up either. After I acclimated to parenting, I was just a woman with a baby who still enjoyed gossip magazines. It worked for me at that time, especially since I was the first in my circle to have a child. Age 30 felt significant, but it didn’t change my ability to function as an adult.
Observing Other Parents
When my oldest entered preschool, I found myself observing the other parents at one of those meetings. They owned houses, drove minivans, and had retirement plans. They crafted holiday wreaths and always sent thank-you notes. They were the kind of parents my parents had been. Meanwhile, I was there in my Doc Martens, sporting a nose ring, hoping to blend in unnoticed amongst these seemingly accomplished adults. I wanted to be like them, but I just didn’t know how to embody what appeared so effortless for them.
Making Progress
Over the years, I have made some progress. I’ve started jotting down important meetings in a notebook, I occasionally wear nicer shoes, and I’ve even embraced the idea of changing out the wreath on the door of our townhouse, which we bought five years ago. With four children now, I drive a minivan—the fanciest vehicle I’ve ever owned. I’ve made an effort to adopt some of the adult behaviors I’ve observed among the genuinely grown-up people around me. Yet, truth be told, I still sometimes forget that I am, in fact, an adult and have been for quite a while. I’m even at an age where I could be the parent of an adult. Maybe one of my kids can teach me how to navigate this whole “adulting” thing?
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Conclusion
In summary, the journey to adulthood can feel elusive, and many of us continue to grapple with the notion of what it truly means to be grown up. While milestones like marriage and parenthood help shape our sense of maturity, the feeling of being an adult often remains just out of reach.