Of IDs and Email Drafts
Well, according to the government here and the laws in our country, I have been officially an adult since I turned 18 years of age and they even gave me an identity card to go with it. To prove that I was now an adult. And I was very eager to get this card. I remember that I finished high school or secondary education – if that’s what you prefer – a year short of getting my ID. And it sucked.
I wanted it so bad. The proof that I was now an adult, that I did not really pay much consideration to what that really meant. Or rather, I had a romanticised idea about what adulthood was all about. An idea that is falling apart day by day as I learn what it really is. And realise that I have to do it properly.
There are the big markers and moments that make me realise just how deep into this I am. Like paying bills on time, filing my tax returns, parenting a young girl while still being my mother’s child.
That’s the big stuff. The obligatory, non- fun stuff if you like. And I do them, even when I’d rather not. I cannot say that I feel particularly great about the whole set up, but here we are. And they don’t make me feel any more adult than the next person.
Nothing about these bring the realization of adulthood.
It is the small daily choices that make me realize that I am officially an adult.
Every time I refrain from replying to an e-mail in caps highlighting that I do not quite understand how an adult would reason like that. Or why they would think that copying my boss was necessary in a follow -up email. Or worse still, that they are trying to ‘report’ me somehow. I mean, we do not really have to go down that road Susan.
And that’s not all. That I respond calmly, and end with a Thank you, not counting the ‘Dear colleague’ at the beginning of the e-mail, despite the fact that I am probably raging with anger from this side of the computer.
This is also means, that I was adult enough to show up for work – on time. Despite the daily desire to just close shop and move away to a place where nobody knows me, rear a few chickens, and have a few friendly neighbours with cows, home school my dear daughter and get off social media. This is still a plan, though. I just know (like the adult that I am) that it has to be planned, saved up for, and ensure that it is a workable plan.
See that, the fact that I am able to put into consideration that there’s a future to worry about. Are other moments of realization for me. That I can willingly put off any crazy, spontaneous, decisions and probably ‘harmful’ decisions, in favour for a future I am building towards, is another realization. Avoiding coffee in the evenings—or staying completely off it—because I want to have productive days, maintaining a work out routine. And oh, preparing my clothes the night before are my major wins.
Whether I am doing the adulting properly, or not, is definitely up for debate. But one thing’s for sure: I am adult enough to know there are levels to this. And for now, surviving Susan, skipping the evening coffee, and keeping the chicken farm in the draft folder is victory enough.
NdukuOutLoud 
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