There’s been a lot of discourse about performative men, but I wanna introduce a new topic: a performative adult. I used to think being an adult meant knowing the answers to everything—cooking a balanced meal, having the dream job, doing my taxes (every year I’m more confused than the last), the perfect relationship (envisioning meeting them by 21, dating for 3 years, a long engagement, then the perfect wedding with golden hour pics and Pinterest-board decor). Well, I don’t think any of that has happened at the ripe age of 23.
Instead, adulthood has felt like replying to rejection emails with “thank you for your time” and then crying into my pillow. Like buying healthy dinner ingredients only to order Taco Bell because I’m too burnt out. Like watching something end but choosing not to ask one more question. Turns out adulthood isn’t about having all the answers; it’s about learning how to stand back up without them.
And this year, I’ve been practicing a lot.
I recently landed an amazing offer at my dream company. A few weeks ago, I received an email saying that I could no longer continue due to being an international student. It stung. I read it three times just to see if I misunderstood the words. I didn’t. Teary-eyed, I replied politely, “Thank you for the opportunity regardless.” I meant it (not really). Then I closed my laptop, recalibrating the version of the future I had already started imagining. I updated my resume the next day and applied to 20 new jobs. Apparently adulthood looks like refreshing LinkedIn Jobs while my eyes are still puffy from the tears. And sometimes, rejections don’t always come in a neatly formatted email with clear reasons.
Relationships (even situationships) are funny like that. This kind of rejection doesn’t announce itself; it comes quietly, hovering until it’s over. I used to think adulthood meant clarity. That if something mattered, it would define itself. That if someone cared, it would be obvious. Instead, I’ve learned that ambiguity can be just as real as certainty. And that you can still show up to your life while carrying questions you never got to ask. There’s something humbling about realizing that not everything gets a closing scene. Sometimes there is no final conversation. No goodbye hug. Just a shift. Just the quiet understanding that no amount of closure will change the ending. It’s funny how something undefined can still leave a very defined feeling. Adulthood isn’t about being chosen every time; it’s about choosing yourself even when things feel unfinished.
I used to think emotional composure only mattered in relationships, but then I realized I was rehearsing it everywhere. As a senior engineering student, on paper I have a great GPA and I’ve never failed a class, but in reality, pulling all-nighters only to get a 70 on an exam, then bed rotting the rest of the day, is my forte. It’s a miracle if I only consume one coffee a day, and most of the time I’m submitting assignments right before the deadline. I’m beginning to learn that having a great transcript and struggling through the process can indeed co-exist.
I also thought the key to adulthood was having everything balanced perfectly. The perfect grades, working and leading Her Campus to success. But in reality, most of the time it feels like juggling, and sometimes one of the balls drops. Not because I’m incapable, but because I only have two hands. I have to stop being hard on myself when I need to cancel a work shift to study for an exam or being disappointed when an event doesn’t go perfectly because I was consumed with optimization processes and circuits the night before. Adulthood isn’t about never dropping anything, but picking it up without calling it a failure.
I used to think adulthood would feel like certainty, like a pinterest board finally coming to life. Instead, it feels like recalculating. Like adjusting. Like replying “Best regards” and meaning it even when the week didn’t go as planned. Some days I look put together. Some days I’m assembling myself back together after the script I had in my head didn’t go as planned. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe adulthood isn’t about knowing exactly what you’re doing. Maybe it’s about showing up anyway, even when the garlic burns, the situation isn’t fair, or the closure never arrives.