Adulthood is a scam
Grow up! That’s what they kept telling us.
Get over it!
Go out there and get something done!
People at your age are making good money, you’re here doing nothing!
Go do something meaningful with your life for once!
If you don’t give a purpose to your life early, you’ll end up useless, and completely irresponsible.
You need to get married, you're getting old!
How can you take care of a family if you don’t have a job?
Do you think girls like lazy men? No way!
You’re going to end up alone, poor, homeless, and in prison if you don’t start making some adult decisions in your life.
And that goes on and on. You hear those voices sometimes literally, sometimes figuratively, so often that you subconsciously sink them in. Every look in the mirror, every money spent, every dress, every newspaper, every billboard, every school grade, teachers, preachers, parents, friends … At some point you realize, wait a minute: I grew up!
Damn! How did I get here? When did that happen? It was so fast. The funny thing is that you don’t get to hear those voices anymore, nooo, you are on another spectrum. Now you can see their reflection in others' faces instead. It’s like a different type of mirror: You could see yourself through them just by looking at them acting and talking. You could feel adulthood like a breeze in your face, like a hit in your ass, like a quiet but uplifting alarm early in the morning. The most effective alarm that reminds you of the worries of the day but doesn’t necessarily tell you how to fix them.
It tells you to be serious, and responsible; to go by the rules, to work hard and harder, and if not, it’ll take everything you have from you, then get in a ring one-on-one with you to bite you up properly. When you think of asking for help, you realize the person likely to save you has an even bigger and older version of adulthood he is in the ring with, trying to get out as well.
Another phase is: Just as soon as you get off the ring with a little victory, you get an Oh help! call from another fellow: Very desperate, coming with a very elaborate story to support his situation. Those types of stories that sound so bad that they render your case ridiculous. Those stories have a particular ability to break you down and then push you to accept your condition however critical it it: It’s not that bad after all, someone's own is worse.
This is life, where is the scam? You may ask!
Well! As far as I can remember, my life roadmap seems, somehow already drafted. Right after being born and smacked in the ass just so I cry, sign for them to know I’m alive and healthy, a group of individuals started deciding how my future was going to be. Little did I know, I would go to school, get degrees, get a job, work hard, get married, take care of my family, and someday, reconnect the circle by bringing another guy like me into the world.
I was oblivious in the early years of my life. You eat, play, learn, sleep, wake up and continue. I was curious about everything. One thing I was interested in but not allowed to touch at the time was my Mum’s sewing machine. I was allowed to get closer when I was getting to twelve years old. It was very fun for me to learn how to use the machine in those early days. I still remember them praising me left and right about how I was getting very good at sewing stuff. They encouraged me to the point I got better at the skill than everyone around. It was so fun having my mum tell me to try this! try that! and I was crashing it hands down. Progressively the instructions became do this! do that! then it finally hit me when I heard finish this! You have to finish that! Then I realize the trick. Damn! She got me.
Quickly, I became a permanently certified skillful staff member. I couldn’t unlearn the skill nor get away from the load of work they started putting on me. It turned out, that I even came up with some advanced models only I could work on at the time. So back from school, there’s another work waiting for me at home. And it’s always on schedule. Why me? I asked at some point. What started as fun (Acquiring a skill, expressing a talent, making my parent proud of me) quickly became stressful and painful.
At some point, I started complaining. Even times I used to have for fun were booked for work. I was becoming unhappy. Then, one day, my mum sat me down to explain to me:
- how many clients are waiting for their work
- how much she charges for each work
- how my input started to bring extra money
- how that money gets accumulated to help pay for our school fees, food, and clothes
- how all of that won’t be possible if I don’t get my shit together and get the work done.
That’s when I noticed the scam. It’s so cold and smooth. Besides taking from you in the most tricky ways the freedom of doing what you like when you like, it also compels you to accept your defeat and dwell in that condition until you no longer should. The worst part is that every adult thinks it must be the right thing to do what adulthood requires: Others are in it, so who am I to get different treatment? Besides, do I even have a choice?
Keep quiet and suffer!
Sitting in one place for hours working at that early age, got me a backache issue. Did I even complain again? No more. Adulthood is not about age. It’s taking responsibility that you know is necessary but no one will take for you. This scenario has been reflected in many other stages of my life. It’ll take a whole book to illustrate all of them. I’m not the only one in this. A lot of people can relay. And that’s my point: We’re all in the scam that’s why it’s an adulthood scam. Can anyone escape it?
Thanks for reading. I’ll post an article about “How to get away from adulthood scam” next. So follow and stay tuned. Peace!
