Let’s clarify something: I have no desire to relive my 21st year. The thought of going back to that age, grappling with immaturity, a lack of self-worth, piles of unpaid bills, a parade of unsuitable boyfriends, and the relentless hangovers is not appealing. Sure, I had my fun back then, but I’ve since moved on to a life that’s, well, pretty great.
Today, however, I find myself feeling a tinge of nostalgia. My life has settled down: a decent résumé, a wonderful partner, two amazing kids, a cozy home with a stylish kitchen, and an overly anxious dog. But still, some unsettling reminders of adulthood linger:
- The thought of my upcoming high school reunion is more than a little unsettling. Thirty years? How is that even possible? It’s not just the memories of awkward encounters that haunt me; it’s the realization that bands I loved are now deemed “retro.” ’80s fashion has made a comeback, and I can almost feel those bad haircuts creeping back into style. Thank goodness I finished high school in 1985, before the internet immortalized our youthful missteps.
- I recently caved and joined Twitter thanks to a nudge from an editor. Seriously, why does everyone feel the need to cultivate an audience? Chasing followers mostly means engaging with strangers. At least Facebook connects you to “friends,” even if the definition is loose. Twitter feels like a relentless pursuit of fame—or infamy—where validation can come from trolls. It’s overwhelming and makes me feel ancient. #NotAFanOfTwitter
- I find myself watching Girls with mixed feelings—disgust and envy. Am I the only one in my forties who feels this way? While the characters can be infuriating, I can’t help but admire their carefree lives and wild adventures. It makes me reminisce about my own youthful escapades, even if I never had Jessa’s fabulous hair—my bad perm was a constant struggle.
- I have a secret affinity for John Green’s novels. It’s a bit awkward when my highly intelligent 11-year-old daughter fights me for the same copy of The Fault in Our Stars, and I’m the one left in tears at the end. Her dry remark? “It’s not that sad, Mom.” Thanks for the reality check, kid.
- I still stash candy like Bazooka and Blow Pops in my kitchen cupboards. I joke with my husband—an avid Sopranos fan—about my hidden treats, similar to Ginny Sack’s secret candy stash. Even though I’m fit and mostly healthy, I indulge my sweet tooth just like I did as a child. Candy is still my guilty pleasure, regardless of my adult status.
- I regret not recognizing my own potential in my twenties. Only now do I realize the influence I could have had as a younger woman in the media industry, which often favors youth. I spent too much time feeling insecure and overly polite when I should have embraced my power.
- Snoring has become my new reality. My grandmother snored like a freight train, and I thought I was immune to that fate thanks to my healthy lifestyle. But now, my husband has woken me multiple times for being too loud in my slumber. It’s official—I’ve become that person.
In summary, while adulthood brings stability and achievements, it also brings a wave of nostalgia and some uncomfortable truths. If you’re navigating the complexities of adult life, check out resources like Healthline for valuable insights on pregnancy, and don’t forget to explore Make a Mom for tips on fertility supplements or the BabyMaker at Home Insemination Kit for those looking to start a family.
Keyphrase: adulting struggles
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