“What do you know about childhood? When were you a child? Never, and always.” – Mallory Says
So far as I can tell, I am only quoting myself here. I found this statement in an old entry, several leather-bound journals ago. The journal itself was minted in 2002. The entry is probably a teenager by now. It strikes me that the boundary between adulthood and childhood is not much clearer to me in my 30s than 20s.
As a millennial, certain hallmarks of adulthood are delayed or absent from my life (and the lives of many friends)—notably, spouse, mortgage, kids. As the old soul who penned the above quote, which, ironically, scents of the melodrama of youth, I can also say I’m as ancient as ever, from my popping knees to an aversion toward pop culture and mainstream technology. I will concede to earbuds, YouTube, and the occasional podcast.
In response to a quick Google search (not voice-enabled!), I happened upon an interesting article in The Atlantic—“When Are You Really An Adult?”, by Julie Beck. Consulting with several experts, Beck considers such markers of adulthood as age, physical development, coming-of-age rituals, emotional maturity, financial responsibility, and others. James Griffin of the National Institute of Child Health and Human Development flips the script: “When are you really a child?”
Traumas like losing loved ones or witnessing major cultural moments may result in a level of awareness not traditionally associated with childhood. And the wounds of childhood are many, whether you are an adventurous Alice or highly sensitive Anne of Green Gables. The same Anne may have all the awareness of a world-wise orphan and the foolishness of a girl playing dress-up.
Further complicating matters, generations have matured differently. Perhaps some have grown up too fast, hurried along by the onset of world war. Others may have been stunted in their independence by post-recession job markets and inability to make their own avocado toast. And imagine being educated under the very real threat of school violence. Is there any child or recent graduate of the American education system who has not experienced at least an active s*****r drill? No wonder this same generation refers to unwelcome experiences as triggering. On the other hand, an experience one might find debilitating may inspire another to incredible feats of maturity and strength.
In short, the boundary between adulthood and childhood seems to be like a border between countries. Wide in some places, narrow in others. Sometimes separated by a river, or other times by a poorly constructed fence (that is definitely not a wall). It’s an ambiguous territory to be populated as you wish. Adulthood, like any identity, is fluid.
From one reluctant grown-up to another, here are some signs that you, too, may be an adult:
You accept responsibility for your life, choices, and happiness.
In a sticky situation, you are your own rescuer. You may still accept and appreciate the services of a handsome knight with a sword.
Other people, such as small humans, pet-people, parents, and friends may view you as a source of shelter, assistance, or snacks.
You consistently make more thoughtful choices than you did on the other side of the border. Think, then act.
You want the best for yourself and others, if you are a good adult.
You recognize the autonomy of other adults. See caveat above.
You seek, and at least occasionally find, ways to participate in and add value to your community—for example, employment.
You understand the need for social contracts, even if your opinions vary from the established norm.
You rationally know, if not always feel, that you are an adult.
You look forward to bedtime.
You feel the need to justify your reasons for reading children’s literature.
You have forgotten and remembered the need for fairytales.
I should have distinguished between being an adult and being a successful, well-adjusted adult. Never mind. I’m late for a meeting.
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