Am I an adult yet is not necessarily a question or a statement, but more of a way of life. Not a way of life that I chose, but one that I, and many others, live. When I was little I had a frequent thoughts that started “When I am a grown up…” and I am still waiting for this magic event to happen to me. Happen TO me being the key. Now I do have the depressing knowledge that adulthood doesn’t appear during your sleep one night in your twenties, with a magic wand that transforms all your disorganisation into wonderful clarity. The ability to have one’s sh*t together isn’t granted by your fairy godmother, but I have also learnt that calling her a b*tch and threatening her doesn’t inspire her to turn up either.
The clarity I speak of is the mental kind, and I feel everyday I am a step closer, since I started studying psychology and counselling. Suddenly the world shrank for me. All those people, who before were alien to me with their quirks and different upbringings, were humans, suffering from the mental and psychological anguish almost all of us suffer from. In my first year (ok, maybe first two years), I was too scared to speak up in class, so intimidated by all these “grown-ups”, but bit by bit I realised that I wasn’t the only f*ck-up in the room. We are all f*ck-ups in one way or another. What truly sets you apart, however, is how you deal with it, with what life throws at you, what other people throw at you, and what you throw at yourself.
I have learnt so much about myself and others, that I barely recognise the person I used to be. In fact, if I could go back in time and meet my 22 year old self, I wouldn’t give her nuggets of wisdom. I would simply hug her and tell her that she is ok. That things will be ok, and that nothing is too much for her. But I know I am still only at the start.