A Bigger Man
I look at freshly-bred and old-baked adults around me. They wear their skin properly wrinkled according to their age, they have a couple or a bunch of decent age diseases to talk about, they develop the classic grumpy attitude to the new and all that. But are they adults?
Ageing kids would be a better description.
Way too often they miss emotional maturity. Just like I do.
The thing is no one taught us to be an adult. We learned maths, some manners, how to cheat and where we belong in the mechanism called Society. We got prepared to function in society so that is works as it used to. But operators of this huge mechanism do not care what is going on with those small cog wheels as long as they do the job. What’s there to care and even think of? They get food, shelter and much more.
But we, the cog wheels, can tell — something is squealing in here.
I would love that someone ever told me what an emotional maturity is. You know, they tell you how your body is changing when you are a teen and teach you to call firemen when there is a fire. They could try giving some hints for maturing also.
Ideally I’d prefer to get a Guide To Adulthood in a compact printed format right away when I turned, let’s say, 22. But just speaking about that theme in general notions would do also. That could help a little to shorten the period of illusions and emotional collapses that after years lead to a vague feeling that I’m missing something important in understanding and approaching changes, and could control the process so that it’s not just ageing, but maturing.
I believe we could use some basic emotional education to help us all.
Emotional immaturity bothers me, because I dread staying a person who have problems with controlling emotional states in daily life or emotions in some important situations, a person drawing attention by getting offended, blaming others for my failures or my passiveness, projecting my shortcomings onto others, defending my attitudes that are actually bringing me down, envying those who are more successful… — all that is a bunch of childish issues that being unsolved and taken to the adulthood make it pretty ugly and unfruitful.
I wish my teachers would set a plank in this kind of intelligence in the beginning. And taught me to be better than that. To be a bigger man.
Of course, I know, no one owes me nothing in this world and I have to figure it out all by myself. Which is good on one hand. But on another, I wouldn’t mind some light guidance to start this process years ago so that by now my patterns wouldn’t be that rigid and hard to adjust. And it’s not just me. There are lots of people out there who didn’t know there is such a thing as emotional maturity and, as we know from linguistics, if there is no word, there is no such a thing in the brain.
Most human beings are ageing tormented by that dark side of inner child, that do not let them live more happily and age with pleasure. Instead, it panics that time flies by and still there is no one to reach out to it, no one to teach the poor kid to grow up. As a result we have a crying baby in the ageing body. And it’s not a pretty picture.
We all could be happier if we had a notion of what being adult is and worked on that. I like the picture where we all are bigger men. And are ageing beautifully.