Once upon a time ago (approximately 10 months ago), I started a story called “The Chronicles of a (Fake) Adult.” It was meant to be an inner monologue of the trials and tribulations of the recently graduated.
I got about as far as graduation. And then stopped.
So, you’ve finally done it.
You went and finished up your last final, followed by an aggressive amount of vodka waters and tequila shots at your favorite bar.
Then your parents show up. You take a bunch of pictures in a cap and gown, walk across a stage and wah-la- you’ve graduated college.
Sounds great doesn’t it?
You are now entered into a very weird phase in your life called “adulthood.” Except at the ripe ‘ole age of 22/23 you, in fact, are not a real adult. You are what I’d like to call a “fake” adult. I’m here now.. and for all you other fake adults- this is for you. Take this as you will.
Maybe it was because the numbing realization of adulthood was starting to sink in and I couldn’t accept that I too, at age 22, was in fact an adult. Or maybe I drank too many of those vodka waters and forgot about the whole thing in general.
Here we are. A glistening year and 1 month after that long awaited day I walked across the stage and became a responsible member of society.
The past year has been filled with its ups and downs:
Lots of drinks.
Some really awkward dates.
Some lonely times.
Some good times, with good friends.
It’s been a ride. That’s for sure. Not necessarily bad, but also not the “best years of my life” either.
Somewhere along the way, the sadness of graduation faded and the reality of work sat in. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Drink. Drink. Sleep. And all of a sudden I found the pattern of my version of “adulting” as a new normal. I carried on happily as a “fake” adult until a couple of months ago when….
May rolled around, and the interns rolled in. Real collage kids. The realization that I no longer was a fresh-faced collage graduate hit. And hit hard.
They were so young. Had so much excitement. Had so much to learn.
My first thought was, “I was NEVER this young, this naive. When did I get so…old.” I thought back to my first internship. I too asked 8 questions an hour. Did (quite literally) whatever anyone older than me asked me to do. Got incredibly overzealous when I first saw some of my work published. That was three years ago. And that’s how an internship should be.
And that’s when it hit.
Somewhere along the way, I unexpectedly grew up. No, I may not have my shit completely figured out right now—I probably will never have it completely figured out. But I 100% have grown a hell of a lot in the past year. It’s okay that I’ve struggled and it’s okay that growing up freaks me out a little bit.
I know how to do things now, I MATTER at the office, I have money to travel. And DAMN, does it feel good. The term “adult” isn’t a death sentence, it’s a new beginning. I realized I need to stop sulking about the loss of my collage self, and embrace the badass adult I’ve become.
So interns, I may be (a tad) jealous that in 2 short months you’ll be back in school having the time of your life, but I’m also at peace with where I am now. And part of me is thanking you for helping me realize… hey, maybe I am an adult. And a pretty okay one at that.