Adulting is Hard
Why I’m So Mad Today
It must be hard becoming an adult. I know that I SHOULD know what that is like, but the older I get the harder it is to remember. Today I’ve been trying to remember that it must be hard making that transition when you so badly want to be independent but things happen and you truly do not know how to handle them.
Like, you go to get your oil changed at the very last minute because you are planning to drive the car that your parents bought for you a long way over the next two days. When you arrive at the oil change place, they are closed. What in the world should you do in such a case? I’m being sarcastic. We have the internet in our pockets now. An 18 year old should be able to figure out what to do!
I’ve been angry with our “recently made adult by age” child all day. Really, I’ve been angry for many days — weeks, in fact. Today I am trying to remind myself that it must be hard to make that transition. Wanting someone to just take care of it all for you while at the same time feeling like a failure if you don’t have it all figured out. It takes time and maturity before we realize we will never have it all figured out. It takes time and maturity to stop feeling like a failure.
I’m reminded of the three year old screaming, “I can do it myself!” Some days I worry that I didn’t let him do enough himself. I guess I’m still maturing too because some days I still feel like a failure.
I’ve said it before. I’ll say it again. Transitions are hard. Regardless of what they are, regardless of what the change or shift is, regardless of how much scenery changes as the lights go out on stage, transitions are hard AND they make the play.
This transition is hard for the parents too. I knew it would be hard. It is kind of like when the kids were infants and we were sleep deprived. Everyone had told us to expect to be sleep deprived. We knew we were going to be sleep deprived. We prepared as best we could for the sleep deprivation. And, still, it was shocking at just how sleep deprived two parents could be.
I don’t think it is funny that often mothers are going through perimenopause at the same time their children are becoming adults. That seems like a cruel joke of nature. Either one of those transitions would be difficult. Having to go through both at the same time feels like too much.
At the same time, I’m grateful to be able to trick my mind and say, “Oh, well, you are so emotional about this because your hormones are out of whack!” I’m also grateful to have something to point to for my crazy behavior when I’m yelling at Hubby when I’m really angry with the kid. I don’t mean to downplay the struggles of menopause. It is real, y’all. But, I know that if I didn’t have that to use as an excuse sometimes that I would believe I had truly lost my mind.
I don’t know how my own mother did not lose hers. When I was his age, I got married. Yesterday I said to BFF, “I was more responsible!” To which she replied, “WERE YOU? You got married!” She has a point. Sometimes when I think about what my parents must have been feeling and thinking, I get a little sick to my stomach. If my kid came in to say that he is getting married, I would lose it! It is a different time. There is no way around that. Still, it is crazy that I married so young. And, just because I had a plan and lived “on my own” and got a job doesn’t mean it was necessarily the more responsible thing to do.
It is hard to learn to be an adult. It is hard to learn to be a parent to an adult too. Today, I’m working on going easy with myself and the kid. (It is much easier to do so when he is out of town!) I ask myself, “What is it you need from the kid? What do you want?”
If I tell the truth about that, I have to admit that I need him to need me. I want him to NEED me. But, at the same time, when he does need me — because he has made really poor choices or just isn’t thinking — then I get mad about that too.
In the end, he can’t win with me and I can’t win with him. And, everyone else is collateral damage.
He knows I’m mad at him. When he was leaving to go out of town today, he was pitiful. He had a bad day — because he had not planned well! — and he wanted to hug his Mama and Daddy. I could see it. I, on the other hand, wanted to make sure he understood what an ass he had been. My keeping my distance, not saying too much — these are the new versions of time-outs for him.
Don’t worry. I did hug him. But only because Hubby hugged him first. I think. I’m not sure I would have even stood up otherwise. How stupid is that? All I want in the world is for him to let me hug on him. But, in my mind he needs to be taught a lesson, sit in the corner in the time-out chair, and think about what he has done.
I am utterly ridiculous. And, he is too. Good thing we love each other so much.
