am i truly afraid of growing up?

on not having a choice but to grow up, whether or not it makes you change

When I was a kid, I used to sit and wonder when would I become an adult, as if becoming an adult was only part of the natural path of being human, as if I would see a sign saying “adulthood” on the road when I’d finally reach it and get to choose if I wanted to go past it or not. When I started studying at university, I understood that becoming an adult wasn’t something I’d really have a say over. I didn’t have a choice anymore: I lived on my own, in my own apartment, with my own groceries, and I had my own schedule. I got to sleep whenever I wanted to, I got to read books on the kitchen floor if I wanted to, I got to take a shower at 4 am if I wanted to. I came to the realization that those things were no longer scheduled for me and that I had to make them scheduled. I wasn’t a kid anymore, and I loved the freedom it gave me.

As time went on, I discovered the student life and its perks. I could learn things I was interested in during the day, eat what I felt like eating at lunch, take a nap in the afternoon, enjoy a movie at the theater in the evening, and get drunk with my friend at night. However, I wasn’t completely an adult yet: I didn’t have to go to work the next morning, I didn’t have to cook dinner for my non-existent children, nor did I have to pay all of my rent by myself. Basically, I learned that I now had the freedom the adult life implied and the lack of responsibility the child had – and I loved it. I wasn’t a teenager anymore, but I wasn’t completely an adult yet. I was a secret third thing that only kept the good parts of each generation.

“All my life I’ve been obsessed with adolescence, drunk on it. Even when I was little, I knew that teenagers sparkled. I knew they knew something children didn’t know, and adults ended up forgetting.”

Lorde in her letter to Adolescence

Recently, I came to the bleak realization that I won’t study forever and that this life I adore so much is only temporary. I always thought that I was scared to grow up, to lack power over getting older, to get wrinkles, to lose my youthful health or to be forgotten, but this fear of growing up wasn’t really about all that but rather about losing what my teenage-hood gave me, without making me feel guilty about taking it.

It’s not happening yet. I am still in my first year of university and I’ve only been in this apartment for about seven months – and I’ll probably stay in it for at least three years. My friends are not married and they don’t have jobs. They still want to hang out with me at random times, because no liability is holding them hostage. But am I running out of time? Is it threatening me more than I believe it does? I look forward, with great apprehension, to the time they will have partners and jobs that will need most of their time. In the future I visualize for myself carelessly every day, when that time comes, I am waiting for them to want to hang out with me while I severely crave the deepness of their relationships and the importance of the jobs they have. Nowhere in that future I am the friend that is unavailable for the weekly hangout because of the relationship I’ve been carrying on since I was 19 or the heavy and complicated career path that I’ve chosen. I’ll be the friend that’s always free to hang out, to go on a spontaneous trip in Scotland, or drink a hot chocolate on a Sunday morning.

Sometimes, I’m already that friend. When it’s Monday and I watch a movie in bed instead of studying for the exam I have on Wednesday, when my best friend hangs out with her boyfriend while I’m at home waiting for her to be done with it so we can see each other, or when my parents have to drive me to the doctor because I got sick smoking in the cold at one of my friend’s birthday party and I don’t have my driver's license to carry myself there. I know that this is normal, that this is just the life of a totally random teenage girl, but when you have the apartment, the money, and the groceries that make you an adult, it all feels too irresponsible. In that future, when my friends are finally veritable adults, I’m still the child that does anything but help them grow.

“And will you still want me when I’m nothing new?”

Taylor Swift in Nothing New

Deeply, I am scared that growing up makes me change. I am afraid that music won’t be my main interest or that I won’t like taking four-hour naps from five to seven. What if my whole personality is purely based on my age? Or on my place in this world? What if I’m only pacing through this phase in life and that, in a few years, I won’t be that person anymore? Somehow, growing up means being an adult soon, being mature, but when I’ll be an adult, will I want to go to that concert on a weeknight and sleep three hours before going to the small job I’ll have? And maybe that’s not even the choice I’ll have to make. Maybe when you’re an adult, you can not do those things anymore. It isn’t weird for a nineteen-year-old girl to get drunk on a Thursday night with her friends, but doing it as a 35-year-old is definitely seen as an odd behavior in people’s eyes. How much time do I get before speaking about my favorite movies for hours with people online becomes fully annoying, strange or makes me different from the others? What would I even like if music and writing aren’t my main hobbies? I can only guess for now – maybe I’ll end up like my dad, working my entire life in the same factory I applied to at eighteen and watching the same TV program every evening, while my wife thinks about what we’ll have for dinner, or maybe I’ll be just like my mom, having multiple kids and going out most days so that I can ignore how sad my life has gotten and how lonely I became. What if this is my destiny? Who even decides?

“Got your whole life ahead of you, you’re only nineteen

But I fear that they already got all the best parts of me.”

Olivia Rodrigo in teenage dream

I am only nineteen, but I am a mess, and I doubt that will ever change. Every time I asked questions about adulthood to adults, the only answer I got was: “You’ll understand when you’re older.”. If losing my interests, as teenager-y as they are, and the recurring presence of my friends are the simple, safe and smooth road to adulthood, then I don’t want it, and growing up becomes this terrifying concept I have nightmares about. Becoming an adult will change my life, but will it change me? Is it still okay to be a mess when you’re an adult? What if I don’t know how to not be a mess?