There are many milestones people consider to be the mark of adulthood: turning 18, getting your first job, moving away from home. But I’ve done all those things — heck, I even graduated college this past year — and yet I still feel like the same me as always. That said, I don’t think I’ll be feeling this way for long. This fall, I’m heading to Northwestern University for my master’s degree in journalism, and it feels like the milestone that will finally turn me into a proper adult.
Even my four years of undergrad didn’t feel like “real” adulthood to me. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it and wouldn’t change it, but I felt overwhelmingly protected from impending adulthood. For the most part, the people around me were (almost) in the same situation as myself; I spent the majority of my week attending classes or working on homework; I ate at designated dining halls and slept in designated dormitories — essentially, it felt like a few extra years of high school, except more legal drinking and a bit less parental supervision. So, when the idea of grad school popped into my head, I not only felt like it would be a good step in my future career, but also a chance to truly grow up.
I have the responsibility of a whole apartment on my shoulders. Me. Just me!
This time around, after four years of roommates, I’ll be on my own. And that is, above all, what gives me that little heart-stopping moment of “oh, this is really happening.” I think I’m a pretty independent person, but I have lived (almost) every day of my life surrounded by other people, all under the same roof. Soon, I will have a space that is entirely my own to fill with furniture and appliances I will slowly accumulate. And this time around, I will be fully accountable for all of the grocery shopping and cleaning. That may seem small; I mean, yes, I have been grocery shopping before, and I did the majority of the cleaning in my college apartment. But it just feels different. I have the responsibility of a whole apartment on my shoulders. Me. Just me!
On top of that, I have classes that are practically going to be like a 9-5. My days will consist of multi-hour classes, each delving deeply into the core aspects of journalism and further developing my portfolio. Sure, I’ll be learning, but it’ll be a lot more like working than studying. The stakes feel much higher.
And then there’s the social aspect. I mean, why is making friends post-grad so difficult? Moving to a new city, I am starting all over again — just like I did for undergrad, except this time, there aren’t as many “getting to know you” icebreakers or dorm common rooms to bring people together.
I feel like the youngest 22-year-old ever.
All of this makes me feel like I have finished my trial run, and I am launching directly into the middle of adulthood — and I feel like the youngest 22-year-old ever.
I occasionally wonder if I am truly prepared for this next step and find myself retracing my steps to see where I could have gone wrong. Would I feel more mature if I had tried living alone earlier? What if I double-majored or took on a more rigorous undergrad course load? Should I have gone to more parties? It’s never out of a place of regret, but out of curiosity, that maybe one thing going differently could have made the adult switch flip in my brain.
But I can’t get caught up on the “what ifs.” I mean, I’ve already paid the deposit for school and have my moving date set — this is happening, whether or not I feel ready for it. I see forging my path as a lone woman in Chicago not as a test, but as adulthood in action. Or, at least, what a 22-year-old thinks adulthood is.