Growing Up

There’s a discussion at metafilter about growing up, prompted by this.

In the last five years or so, I’ve spent a lot of time wondering what qualifies someone as a grownup, or more personally, when I would qualify as one. Looking at the comments at metafilter, there seem to be a few common themes: a parent’s death, having a full-time job, buying a house, getting a divorce. It appears the definition of grown-up changes from person to person. Some people associate it with earning a living on one’s own while others relate it to coping with an emotional event.

Each time I cross a major milestone in my life, I wonder if I’m mature enough to be there. Moving to another continent, earning a high salary, paying a hefty rent, getting married. Each of them, an event associated with being a grownup. Am I really mature enough to get married? Am I mature enough to be a teacher?

I spent most of my childhood being too old for my age. A teenager who didn’t drink, smoke, or do drugs is pretty boring. I picked books over dress-up. I had goals. I had to work hard to achieve them. At seventeen, I left my home and my family to go miles and miles away. I figured I was old enough.

Not really.

Over the years, I learned that being mature is not a line one crosses. It’s not like there’s a day before which you’re a child and after which you’re a grownup. There are events that occur in our lives that force us to act mature and take responsibility, often sooner than we wished. And then there are events for which the time feels right so we take the leap, like marriage and children. I don’t believe anyone’s ready to have children. It just feels right and we feel like we’re in a healthy, stable situation and that we can provide for a child.

And then there are the situations that cause every person to act below their age. A few too many glasses of wine. Hanging out with a kid. Watching a football game. Playing video games. Besides these common cases, each person has a unique series of situations that will reduce that person to a child.

I’ve come to terms with the fact that getting older will always feel weird to me. Getting married like my parents and working as a teacher both sound odd when uttered to someone else but feel comfortable and right when I don’t think much about it. I don’t think it matters much when one officially stops being an adolescent. Putting a number on it guarantees that there will be people within the range who feel unfairly treated like a child, and a set of people who fall outside the range but yet act like adolescents.

Life is not about keeping track or fitting in a category. It’s about learning to deal with things as they come and taking responsibility. It’s also about maximizing the level of fun, no matter how childish, as long as it’s not at the expense of others.

The rest simply doesn’t matter.

Previously? Looking Forward.