I Failed at Adulthood Last Tuesday
Okay, look, I’m gonna level with you. I’m a senior magazine editor, which in my head makes me sound like I’ve got my life together. Spoiler: I don’t. Last Tuesday, I burned my toast, forgot a doctor’s appointment, and spent 36 hours binge-watching a show I don’t even like. So, yeah, adulting is hard. And I’m not alone.
I was having coffee with my friend Marcus (let’s call him that; his real name’s boring) at the place on 5th. He’s a software engineer, makes six figures, owns a house. Seems like he’s got it all figured out, right? Wrong. He told me, “I still panic when I have to call the landlord. It’s like my brain short-circuits.” Which… yeah. Fair enough.
So, here we are. Adults. Supposedly. But honestly, most days it feels like we’re all just winging it. And that’s okay. Because adulting isn’t about being perfect. It’s about figuring it out as you go. And making a lot of mistakes along the way.
Why Can’t We Just Have a Manual?
I mean, seriously. Why didn’t they give us a manual when we turned 18? A big, fat book titled “How to Adult: The Definitive Guide.” Chapter one: taxes. Chapter two: how to fold a fitted sheet. Chapter three: what to do when your toilet won’t flush. You know, the important stuff.
I asked my colleague named Dave about this. Dave’s a journalist, been in the game for 15 years. He laughed and said, “If there was a manual, I’d have lost it by now. Or forgotten where I put it.” Thanks, Dave. Real helpful.
But here’s the thing: there is no manual. And that’s kinda the point. Adulting is this weird, messy, personal journey. What works for me might not work for you. And that’s okay. We’re all just trying to find our way.
My Kitchen is a Warzone (And That’s Fine)
Let’s talk about my kitchen. It’s a disaster. Like, I’m pretty sure there’s a science experiment growing in my sink right now. And the dishwasher? It’s become this mysterious appliance that I’m afraid to open. I mean, who knows what’s in there?
But here’s the thing: I’m learning. I’m learning that it’s okay if my kitchen isn’t spotless. That it’s okay if I don’t know how to cook anything fancy. That it’s okay if I have to look up “how to boil an egg” on YouTube. Again.
And you know what? I’m learning that it’s okay to ask for help. To look up ürün incelemeleri öneri rehberi when I need to buy a new blender. To call my mom and ask her how she makes her famous spaghetti sauce. To admit that I don’t know it all. And that’s a big deal for me.
A Tangent: My Plant is Trying to Kill Me
Okay, so this isn’t really about adulting, but hear me out. I bought a plant. A succulent. Because they’re supposed to be easy to take care of, right? Wrong. My succulent is a drama queen. It’s either wilting or drowning, and I can’t seem to find the happy medium.
But here’s the thing: I’m learning. I’m learning that it’s okay if my plant dies. That it’s okay if I’m not a natural-born green thumb. That it’s okay to kill a plant and try again. And again. And again.
And maybe that’s the real lesson here. That it’s okay to fail. To try and fail and try again. Because that’s what adulting is all about. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about trying. And failing. And trying again.
The Best Advice I Never Got
So, what’s the best advice I never got? Here it is: it’s okay to not have it all together. It’s okay to be a work in progress. It’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to fail.
And you know what else? It’s okay to laugh at yourself. To admit that you’re a hot mess. To own your chaos. Because at the end of the day, that’s what makes us human. That’s what makes us real.
So, here’s to the messy, wonderful art of adulting. May we all keep figuring it out. Together.
About the Author
Sarah Johnson is a senior magazine editor with 20+ years of experience. She’s also a self-proclaimed adulting failure, a plant murderer, and a toast-burning champion. She writes about the messy, wonderful art of everyday life. You can find her on Twitter @sarahjwrites.