Adulthood :: 091
My dear old {FirstName|Friend},
Almost Grownup
"Adults are so boring," my kids will say.
"All you talk about are adult things like work, coffee, and podcasts."
I know among me and them that I'm the adult. It's just that I don't always feel like an adult. Sometimes I feel like I'm a kid playing an adult on TV in real life. I look around and realize it's me.
Apparently the one making the rules... is me.
Something happened to me in the last 20 years. I used to stay up late. I used to drink. I used to sleep in. I used to skip an exercise day. Or even a few. I used to be fun. I used to not hurt my back when I sleep or brush my teeth. I was definitely not boring.
I have this image in my head of how adulthood is supposed to be– we all do– and I'm trying to live up to it. The image says: adulthood is responsibility. It is doing things you need to do before things you want to do. Adulthood is flossing and reading before bed.
Meetings and small talk.
It feels like being an adult means doing things that people don't like. Things like dishes, early bedtime, yard work, and burpees and then pretending to like it until I actually do.
I act how I believe (or have come to believe) an adult should. But I rarely stop to question it. Why does adulthood have to be serious? responsible? boring?
Maybe adulthood is more than a pleasant dinner party.
More fun. Sillier.
What's great about getting older and being an adult now?
Maybe I could make this better.
This month, I'm growing up and examining adulthood. I'm asking questions about what it means to be the adult in the room and how we got here in the first place.
Let's talk about adult stuff (totally SFW though).
Wear The Mask Until it Becomes the Face
Anyone who's ever played house before has imagined themselves as an adult.
It's no wonder.
Grownups get to have all the fun.
They can look at screens whenever they want.
They can stay up late.
They can swear and have candy and drive.
No one's telling them what to do.
Wait.
No one's telling US what to do.
Which is the opposite of a kid's experience. You're too little. You're not ready. I'll tell you when you're older. You'll understand it when you're older... Kids just have to wait for adulthood. And waiting is hard.
So as kids, we look for gateways to adulthood that we can actively choose to walk through. Pulling our baby teeth out. Sexual exploration. Trying drugs. Breaking rules. Exaggerating puberty. Getting in trouble.
Those are things that kids don't do, so that will make me an adult, right?
As teenagers we're desperate to not be kids anymore and we throw ourselves into activities and behaviors to feel like adults. To be seen as adults. It doesn't stop when we're 5. We cosplay and pretend until one day, we just... are.
The change is imperceptible.
There isn't a moment where I can say THERE. THAT is when I became an adult.
Each "last" and each "first" is a step away from adolescence and toward adulthood.
Not any one specific milestone made me an adult. Not when I got my drivers license or moved to the city or lost my virginity or lived alone. Negotiating a raise or going through a breakup does not an adult make. But it's the story and collection of milestones that slowly shift my identity and mindset.
This is what adulthood is. And it's not as fun as I thought it'd be. So why did we all rush to get here?
Longing For the Sea
I imagine I'm a captain of a giant sailboat somewhere far out in the ocean. The boat, of course, is my life.
Twenty years ago it felt like every new input could shift the wind and take my life into a totally new direction.
A single class in college could steer me towards a path I didn't know existed. Each relationship that started or ones I chose to end had potential to change the course. A job. An apartment. Even choosing to go out tonight. Maybe I'll have a conversation that drives a new route; maybe I'll meet someone that alters my direction and takes me to some magical faraway land.
I've sailed past foregone lands only imagining what it would be like to stop and settle there. Avoided lush islands that might have been lovely but whose rocky shores would have been treacherous and deadly. I've visited places I thought were beautiful but just weren't right for me.
One realization I've had is that while I may have felt at the helm for the last 40 years, the map was drawn long before I was born. I've followed a standard path. Go to school. Start a career. Find a partner. Get married. Have kids. Buy a house.
After decades at sea, I've arrived safely. I've left the ship And now I get to build.
When I look into the future now at the next 40 years, it feels scary.
No clear map to follow. It's almost like I'm starting from zero.
I don't know how to build.
Being here means that so many of the other docks I've abandoned and places that I once dreamed of visiting I cannot go back to. They're not available to me anymore. So many of the winds that once shifted my sails and pushed my ship cannot move me in the same way they once could.
And so I find that many people who have found their way to these shores will long for the days at sea. After all, sailing is full of adventure and whimsy.
But maybe the metaphor is wrong.
Sailing wasn't the adventure. The ship is not actually the life.
Wherever we go, We can bring spirit of adventure with us. We can draw our own maps and navigate our own lives. On sea or land.
So after 40 years at sea, here I am. Ashore.
Sometimes I long for my days at sea but I have to remind myself not to just romanticize it.
The sea is a stormy and rocky place. It can be isolating and unpredictable.
And here, on land, I am home. Being here means commitment. Calm. Consistency.
And while I cannot be moved and shifted as easily as a change in the wind, I'm trying to keep my mind is just as open as my sails once were.
Photo by Patrick Kolts
Adults Need Role Models Too
Earlier this month I got to see one of my favorite musicians perform. Ben Folds came to the NJ Performing Arts Center to play with the New Jersey symphony.
19 years ago I got my first Ben Folds CD. My first concert was a Ben Folds show and he quickly became a role model. Piano wasn't nerdy classical recitals anymore; it was grungy rebellion. It was "Kiss my ass" and "Give me back my black t-shirt." Playing piano could mean throwing a stools at the keys and being subversive to main stream culture with a band that wasn't ever going to be on the front page of Rolling Stone– or even in the magazine at all. And that was cool.
As a kid, I loved Ben Folds.
And as I've grown older, well, so has he. Instead of climbing atop the piano and jumping off, breaking piano strings and fingers from playing too hard, Ben was in a suit. Taking a bow and shaking hands with the conductor and First Violinist.
The story I tell myself is that getting older means we have to be more serious.
I saw it in Hollywood too, watching Jim Carrey go from Ace Ventura to Truman Show to Eternal Sunshine.
Or Robin Williams win an Oscar for Good Will Hunting. Or Adam Sandler ditch Billy Madison for Punch Drunk Love.
The story is: get older, get more serious. And that's what I told myself for a long time.
But something recently clicked when I looked deeper. I can make sense of it anyway I want and tell a different story about what it means to be an adult. It's not that these people are getting more serious and boring. The new story can be different.
These are artists and humans. In their teens and 20s they played a role to get attention. And now that they're known for something– talking out of their butthole for example– it feels like they're seen for only one small sliver of who they actually are. And in their 30s and 40s, they're looking into exploring and revealing more parts of their identity. They're trying on a more full range of their identity in public.
They're asking themselves: do I always have to be this one thing? Or can I be more? And that feels relatable.
The other night, Ben Folds played with the Symphony in a suit and finished by 9pm. But! He also improvised a full song called "Rock this Bitch" (as he does at every show). Jim Carrey still did Dumb and Dumber To 10 years after Eternal Sunshine. Robin Williams finished his career with Night at the Museum and Adam Sandler released Happy Gilmore 2 last year.
Being an adult is not a linear story into responsibility, seriousness, and routine.
Part of what I'm loving about being an adult is that our role models of adulthood are so much broader than they used to be. We have examples of all different kinds of adults. It's not just Dick Van Dyke and Archie Bunker and Ricky Ricardo.
I'm so grateful to think about adulthood as a mix of my role models. Rockstars can swear and tell inappropriate stories but also raise two kids and can still play with the symphony. Actors know how to get serious and tell dramatic stories, but can turn around and be sillier than the kids they once were. We can explore parts of ourselves and come back to what we're known for. We can try an identity on and reveal parts of ourselves at any time.
I am an adult who can play to the full range of my strengths and identity. I write email refrigerators about serious topics and have a serious job. But I also tell jokes. I cry. I like pillow forts and eating candy and building legos. I look forward to backyard camping and riding bikes. I LOVE the Muppets. I still laugh at fart jokes and eat mac and cheese.
I want someone to look at me and see an adult.
But still think, "man, he needs to grow up."
Finally, We're Adults
Sometimes adulthood can feel like a slog. The routine of parenthood and the relentless responsibility of taking care of a house, car, relationships, and an aging body can feel burdensome.
In the same way that as a teen I was searching for gateways into adulthood, today, I'm curious about gateways back into childhood. Getting my hands dirty outside. Painting with my fingers. Going to sleep super early (or super late). Getting drunk. Buying myself a toy.
I don't wish I was a kid. I'm not trying to tap into some Peter Pan fantasy of never growing up. Just to incorporate a little fun into my day. To know that I have a silly side. And an irresponsible, trouble-seeking streak.
Being an adult is boring. But it can also be the most fun. We wished we could be adults for so many years because it meant freedom and independence. And now we're here. We get to be adults. Finally. Everyday. We can question our models and decide what kind of adults we want to be. Adulthood can be as good as we dreamed it as a kid.
We don't have to worry about who are friends are and studying for a test in a subject we don't care about. We can swear and buy things and eat ice cream for dinner. We can stay up late and make up our own rules. And then break them if we want. We can stay up late and tell inappropriate jokes.
And if you thought that was a perfect setup to a fart joke, come on {FirstName|Friend}.
Grow up.
___________________
Thanks for spending some time this weekend stewing in my thoughts. Hope something shifted for you.
I always love hearing if and how. Or even what didn't resonate.
Until next month, refrigeyalater.
♥️ Jake
Ahem. Hi, hello. Me again. A couple last things:
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A few topics I cut from this month: rules we teach are not the rules we follow, prime of my life, the art and stories of adulthood, #adulting
The Email Refrigerator is a monthly delivery of essays, poetry, imagery, and thoughts, written and curated by Jake Kahana. Why a refrigerator? Well, it's where we look for snacks, a little freshness, and where we hang the latest, greatest work. And besides, "newsletter" sounds like spam.