turning 26, and a quarrel
Feeling a bit down today at the prospect of having to grow up. I suppose it's apt, given that I go over to the wrong side of the 20s in a few weeks' time. I always thought I would like to be a grown-up, more so than most other people. I never really liked all the kiddy things. My playtime was more of the adult admin-type variety, like pretending to write cheques, filing my bills, compiling long grocery lists; as a kid my favourite toys were ledger books and invoice pads and toy cash registers (I still love those).
Even now I like the paperwork of being a grown-up. (Well, I don't like paying bills, but I still enjoy the act of writing a cheque; every time I do it I remember my childish glee in getting the words just right.) I like the freedom, the money, the ability to plan things and carry them out yourself. If adulthood was just about me I would love it.
The problem is that being an adult means taking on responsibility for other people too. That moment when you switch from being cared for to having to care for others ages you irrevocably.
When I was a kid my biggest fear was that my parents would die or disappear in the night and I would have to take care of my two younger siblings. I used to wake up a few times every night and sneak into my parents' room to make sure they were still breathing. Even now, with every day that passes, I refine my still-vague plans on what I will have to do in the event that my parents (1) die (2) become invalid (3) grow old. Since one of the three will definitely happen, I have to think about all of them over and over again.
In the meantime, I'm becoming increasingly aware that I may not be up to the task of actually being an adult. Money is now the least of my worries - my parents have enough stashed away and my scholar siblings are someone else's financial problem for the next decade or so. I think my biggest problem is being emotionally mature enough to be any kind of guardian. See the thing is, I don't really like people. I don't like to talk to them about their problems, unless I'm trying to get a story. I'm not the sort of person to sit and listen to someone else's woes and pat them on the hand solemnly throughout. I'm more the type that offers tea and tells a joke.
So maybe I. is right and I'm in the right job after all. I can't take responsibility for anyone but myself. Which will be my depressing thought for the night.
posted by zyn ::
12:03 AM ::
1 Comments ::
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