When I turned 18, I thought everything would click. The noise in my head would quieten and all the questions constantly milling around my brain would answer themselves. I'd be wiser, more mature and have a better understanding of myself and others.
I'd read more. I'd pick up new hobbies that would likely become side hustles and then six-figure-earning businesses. Life would be hard, sure. I'd make mistakes. Lose friends and maybe myself, too. I could have done a bunch of things wrong but of course, in true adult fashion, I'd prevail.
Because I was an adult. A perfect, professional, responsible adult.
At 18 years old.
Yes, at 25 years old, I now see the irony.
Watch: Women who kicked major goals after the age of 30. Post continues after video.
A few months ago, I grew another year older and a few things have happened since. Actually, for the sake of transparency, I guess it actually began happening about six months ago. Something my friends and I have dubbed 'The Shedding'.
I've lived out of home since I was 19 years old. Paid my own bills. Lived independently and never went without a job. I technically tick all the boxes of what it means to be 'an adult'.
Top Comments
Seva! Thank you so very much for this kind comment, it is genuinely so beautiful and thoughtful. I feel, judging by your words, I'd be so lucky to know someone like you. 🩷