This November has been a month of firsts for me. I voted for the first time, I attended my first concert, I tried French food for the first time (safe to say Ratatouille kinda over-hyped it for me), and finally, I turned eighteen for the first time. Yes, I know that last one sticks out like a sore thumb. Of course I turned eighteen for the first time, but let me be more specific, I had my first weird birthday. For the first time, I wasn’t all that thrilled to celebrate my personal lap around the sun, instead feeling a mix of excitement and terror all at once. So what is it about eighteen or getting older that makes me and others- I’m not alone in this one–feel this way?
In the United States, you unlock a plethora of perks when you turn eighteen. These include the ability to vote, play the lottery, buy stocks, and get married. But you’re also now legally considered an adult. If you’re a bit like me, then the idea of being in the same social category as your parents (no harm intended) might just throw you for a loop. What was so different about seventeen and eighteen? And what exactly is an adult? Well for starters, there’s not much difference between seventeen and eighteen, not that you can tell overnight anyway. But what is an adult? According to the Merriam Webster Dictionary, an adult is someone who is “fully developed and mature,” in essence, the exact opposite of me.
I might have exaggerated a bit in that last part, I’m definitely not completely immature, and the fact that I no longer act like I did in middle school (thank goodness), reminds me that brain development is an ongoing process until you’re 25. But this doesn’t erase the fact that I don’t feel like what I think an adult should be, that is, someone with their life figured out. But I guess that’s the key part, I don’t feel like how I define being an adult. Becoming an adult is a personal process that can’t be defined by a few words or other people’s terms. To some, it might be a time when they can finally move out, file their own taxes, and parallel park (anyone?). Either way, it’s totally okay to feel a little out of place. After all, it’s growing, and if you’ve ever tried growing a plant, you know it takes time, each at their own pace.
It’s okay to be a little scared of getting older, and it’s not just limited to young people. FoGo, or fear of getting older is something we may all experience at some point in our lives. But why are we scared? Maybe it’s because of how our society negatively treats people as they get older, the overwhelming doom of climate change, preconceived notions of what it means to be old, or the exclusion of age in beauty standards. Although we can’t change these things overnight, I think we can change the way we think about age. We should focus on the beauty of age, both internally and externally. Consider the wisdom and strength that comes with each passing year, and focus on the joy of every stage in life. I don’t mean to get too sappy there, but it’s important to remember that you get to define what kind of person you want to be as you get older, and not society.
Well, I’ve been eighteen for about a month now and I don’t feel all that different. My only complaint so far would be the lack of songs about being eighteen (I really miss being able to relate to Dancing Queen), so if you’re in the songwriting business, that’s a personal request of mine. And in terms of adulting and planning ahead, I’ve already started planning my 50th birthday. Hopefully by then, I’ll have a great knitwear collection, because November on a yacht sounds really nice.