Adulthood

One day in my human development class we discussed when a person becomes an adult.  Have you ever thought about that?  When do we become adults?  A lot of cultures recognize adulthood once someone passes through a trial, usually a physical one.  Like, making you walk across fire or cutting scars all up into your body.  But... we don't really do that in America.  I think about my friends that I view as adults, and they typically have some common things going on.  They're usually pretty financially independent, they're done with school (for now), they have a real job, they own their own cars and pay their own insurance, they've mostly moved away from their college town and... unfortunately... they're all married and most of them have kids.  Most of them are my age (or younger).  But I don't consider myself to be an adult.

How is it that my friends graduated from college about the same time I did, and are the same age as I am, and yet I view them as adults but not myself?  Maybe it's because of my rent situation, where I rent a bed in an apartment full of other girls that I did not choose to live with.  Maybe it's because I'm still living in Provo.  Maybe it's because I don't have a smart phone and, let's be honest, I have a month to month prepaid phone plan.  My mom gave me her car to use.  I'm still in school and haven't been accepted to a master's program.  I bite my fingernails.  I'm still scared of the dentist.  I pay my rent late a lot.  And the utility bills.  And tithing.  I haven't made my own dinner in weeks.  My diet mostly consists of premade food usually found in the freezer section (but not always) and, dare I say it?  McDonald's. 

I had an old roommate once who told me (when she was 22 or 23) that someone referred to her as an adult and her nieces and nephews (who were all under 9) yelled that she wasn't an adult, but just a big kid, because she wasn't even married yet.  Maybe I am just a big kid.

Although I often feel like I am the mother to three teenage boys.  Oh Heaven help me.  Tomorrow A is moving out to a different house and D is moving in on Wednesday.  This brings me to the next thing on my mind.  In this same human development class we talked about how one contributor to the fact that women make less than men is that women tend to speak up less at work (especially about raises).  While I'm too scared to ask for a raise just yet (although my 30 day trial period is up and it's time for my first raise...) I did decide that I needed to speak up about something else.  When I was first told about D I was told some not so great things about him and was asked to go visit with him in a juvenile detention center to see if I would feel comfortable working with him.  I was told that my superiors wanted to move G out.  And I was devastated.  Part of me really, really loves G and T.  But A... well, A has been quite difficult lately.  While I knew that G was going to be switching with D, I had some legitimate concerns about D, A and T all living together.  I figured that my input would be for nothing and that I should just not say anything.  Someone who knew more than I did had made the decision for G to move.  But I decided that if something had gone down with D, A and T, I would feel responsible for not having spoken up about my concerns.  So I did.  I listed out all the reasons why I though G should stay and A should go.  And my request was granted, and I get to keep G.  Strangely, A is happier than I have ever seen him.  He's looking forward to his new home.  I am looking forward to being able to leave to go grocery shopping without A making a dramatic scene about being depressed (it always happens when it's time to leave to go shopping) and I'm excited to not having to go over to the house in the morning to yell at A for refusing to get out of bed to go to work.  It seriously can take more than 30 minutes to get him out of bed.  It's absolutely ridiculous.  Anyway, lesson learned.  Speak up at work!