A year ago, when my dad passed, I suddenly felt aged. In a matter of moments, my world turned. There’s something truly sobering when you realize that suddenly you have one less parent to call when shit hits the fan.
I found myself bombarded with decisions, big ones. Things I felt utterly unqualified to be a part of or to even have an opinion on. I was lucky, for the most part other, REAL adults stepped up to help take on things like selling the house. But that did little to relieve the feeling that every choice I made might be the wrong one, that the consequences of my actions were magnified. Even things like deciding to try to go to bed, or to venture out to a coffee shop, suddenly felt like monumental choices.
My mom was 49 when she lost her dad, and he’d had all his stuff together. She’d dealt with it pretty well, but she was a full blown adult, not me. But in that moment, buying a plant ticket to fly 3,000 miles alone, to find a place to stay, to decide whether I was okay with cremation and did I want to know the details, a part of me was at least 49. A part of me got so old it died right then and there, following my dad to the grave.
That said, a little over a year later and I once again feel like a toddler attending a college calculus course most of the time.
I’m 24 years old, just a few weeks shy of 25… and I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. I’m sort-of unemployed but also sort-of not (thank you COVID-19) I’m living pay check to pay check, but also saving and investing. I’m still in school but definitely not a traditional student anymore. I have bills but no credit card. I’m looking at rings, planning a wedding, but also in no rush. At this point I’m not sure that I’ve done any of it right, or in the right order for that matter. Does the order even matter?
It makes me wonder, do we ever really become an adult? Each moment we another little part of us goes from childhood to adulthood. But only ever a percent of the child remaining. Like always cutting the pizza you have left in half… you always have half left. And so while the child in us gets smaller and smaller, it’s never gone. I don’t think you can feel as old as I felt without a part of you truly aging. I also don’t think you can feel so much like a child without that child inside you still playing a part.
Or maybe it’s like that quote from the John Green book. “…the way you fall asleep. Slowly, then all at once.”
Maybe someday something will happen, I’ll know what to do. I’ll have my ducks in a row and the looming potential consequences and disaster won’t phase me. I’ll go to bed on time and cook more often. I’ll suddenly realize that just like that, I’m finally grown. I guess the real question is, do I want that? All at once.
It sounds so nice, to know what you’re doing, to have your stuff together. But if I’m honest, if being a grown ass adult means I can’t spend hours drawing pictures based on ludicrous theories or creating D and D characters, I want no part of it.
So here’s to hoping that someday I am grown, that someday this fear, stress, and feeling of utter confusion will go away. Here’s to hoping that that doesn’t mean I can’t still play, or that there’s nothing left to discover. And here’s to all the rest of you out there trying to figure out if you’re adulthood is even real.
Peace and until next time
Cassie
Coffee & Conundrums 