How Do I Adult?

Sometimes I find it funny, other times I find it depressing: we look forward to our independence our entire lives, believing our childhood was the worst stage in terms of discovering ourselves. Then we’re sent out into the world, to college, to full-time jobs, like leaves falling from their trees, and suddenly don’t know how we’ll stop ourselves from spiraling into the mud.

I have found that people don’t go to college just to go to college. They go for the experience and the hope of a future where they aren’t living paycheck to paycheck. Sounds practical. Reasonable. However, there are many different college experiences that lead us down the path we are meant to be on, and I strongly believe the biggest difference you notice is the atmosphere between community college and four-year universities.

Instead of stepping right into a university from high school, I remained at my parents’ house for the first two years of adulthood and attended Inver Hills Community College. While it’s smaller, students tend to know everyone, faculty knows all the students, and it’s easier to form a tight-knit group of friends that you see daily. For the first time, I felt like I had friends who knew how to work through problems toward actual solutions, unlike my high school peers who thought fighting over nothing was the appropriate way to handle a failed friendship. I felt seen, not like all the attention was on me, but that I was included despite my shy nature.

Unfortunately, alongside this experience, it took me too long to understand that I was an adult. The friends I still talked to in high school had all moved on to universities, most often out of state, and seemed to be getting along just fine with their newfound independence. I was stuck living at home, working two jobs, and attending community college full-time. The commute alone was thirty minutes each way, and that was just to classes. Between my parents and I still working out boundaries due to my age and my busy schedule, I never really had time to sit down and think about my status in the world. Community college felt like a bubble: I was halfway to independence yet I still slept in the same room I’ve slept in since I was five. I was using my own money to pay tuition, but I somehow had time to work two jobs outside of academics, which didn’t feel right. I’d been told college is difficult, that it’s enough to make grown adults cry, which I’ve certainly experienced before, but community college never made me as stressed as university. I felt comfortable at Inver Hills, like I was just attending high school without the strict watch from teachers.

Moving away from home was the defining moment of adulthood for me. When I finalized plans to move into an apartment in Duluth at the University of Minnesota, the concept of being an adult finally struck me. I was alone, in an unfamiliar space, taking harder classes, and unsure of what to do with my life. My parents wouldn’t know if I skipped class and they wouldn’t know if I made bad choices. They weren’t there to tell me what I should be doing or what I shouldn’t, everything was up to me unless I asked for help. I turned twenty years old only a few days into the first week of school. It was then, when my roommates brought me a store-bought cheesecake for my birthday after a full day of classes, that I knew I’d entered the world I so desperately wished for for twenty years.

At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to rewind time. I wanted to return to my five-year-old days when I didn’t have to care about anything, when I didn’t have to worry about money or dating or grades. I wanted to be a kid again and that is the toughest unrealistic desire I’ve ever had to digest.

It hurt to know I’d hit the stage of life that most adolescents dream of: being somewhat free of authority. It hurt because I didn’t like how I made all of the decisions, especially in difficult moments, especially when it might hurt someone else. I had complete reign over my life for the first time and the ropes were slipping.

University life was also different in terms of coursework and friends. Classes were longer and often gave out double the homework I was used to receiving. I spent many evenings in the library, just pumping out assignment after assignment. Friends were scarce. I was lucky enough to have roommates I knew previously, but they were really the only people I considered more than acquaintances. Instead of creating another tight-knit group of friends like at Inver Hills, I couldn’t hold on to a single friend and, what was worse, I couldn’t keep in contact with my community college friends as well as I used to. With only two people I really talked to, university was rough. I was lucky enough to be introduced to my boyfriend at the beginning of my first year at UMD, but instead of being able to walk with him to class or see him a few times a week, I saw him through a phone on the daily and was able to hug him in person once a month because he attends a different college. The distance between myself and others (parents, boyfriend, community college friends, high school friends) was almost more than I could bear.

I still don’t know how to quite manage everything going on in my life, not between my many classes, various homework assignments, and friends. I’m not sure how to thrive like it seems I should be doing and feeling. It wasn’t until recently that I discovered the truth.

Nobody has their shit together. Everyone struggles and everyone wonders why it seems like they’re falling while their peers are moving on. It’s one of the most eye-opening pieces of information I’ve ever known. And now that I know, stress feels a little lighter. I’m not the only one who is having a hard time and I certainly won’t be the last.

I am still struggling. I still don’t have my shit together. If I’m being honest, I don’t think I ever will. Currently, I am one month away from graduating with my Bachelor’s degree and I am continuing into a Master’s program four hours away. While I’m still having a difficult time communicating with loved ones, homework leaves me lost and sleep is hard to chase. And if I’m being honest again, I’m terrified I’m going to spiral back into the loneliness I experienced with every new stage of my life when I finally move out of my parents’ house and into an apartment. The struggle doesn’t just end like it’s caught by a net, it sticks with you. Life gets better, then it gets worse, then you’re wondering where you fit.

I don’t know what the future holds but, regardless of what happens, I’m ready for it.