The Tweets I Never Posted (pt. 1)
When it comes to being an adult, I often feel like I’m a guy with two left feet and no rhythm at a hip-hop karaoke bar, awkwardly trying to break it down on the dance floor while holding the mic. I’m rapping off-beat and the crowd could swear that I’m tone-deaf as my chosen key is just wrong. I’ve forgotten the lyrics and my vision is kind of blurred because I forgot to put on my glasses, but I still hype myself up as I confidently writhe and wiggle like a snake on fire, a little out of sync with the soundtrack, but catching up nonetheless. The crowd cheers me on, and I intentionally ignore the few boos erupting from the group at the back. I finish a few seconds after the beat has stopped, but I don’t mind, because all the sweat on my forehead and in my armpits tells me I’ve done well. The tipsy audience cheers and claps their hands - some even “whoop”. A huge smile spreads across my face and I head to the bar for a well-deserved shot of tequila. I may have finished late, but I still finished. Success! Speaking of success, whose measure of success are you using, anyway? What does success even look like for you personally?
Can I be open and honest for a second? I’m really struggling with how to “adult”. The past two years of my life have felt like a whirlwind, tossing me here and there, spinning me around and throwing me out all dusty and rugged like a plastic bag. Yes, a plastic bag. The same item many governments and pressure groups across the world are shunning and discouraging the use of. Speaking of pressure, boy, am I under so much self-imposed pressure?!
Listen, adulting is so hard. I’m struggling to adjust and find a balance. I’ve got it together, but at the same time, I don’t. My relationships with people are constantly changing and getting more and more complex, and I ask myself, “What happened to our childhood friendships where the only worry we had was whether or not our parents would let us out to play?” Now it’s much more complicated than that. The world is too small, I feel like I’m suffocating. A fake smile here, a genuine smile there, both masking untold pain, disappointment, secret crushes, secret resentment, yearnings, hope.
Adulting is realising that not all aspects of your life will be going well simultaneously. It’s wanting to cry because you’ve just found out your dad has cancer, while also wanting to celebrate landing a placement with one of the Big Four firms on the same day. It’s eating clean but gaining weight, dieting and then stress-eating. It’s craving a glass of wine but postponing it because your state of mind isn’t the greatest and you feel like that glass would do more harm than good.
Adulting is also acknowledging that sometimes you’ll mean very little to people who mean so much to you, and that’s a tough pill to swallow but you’ll swallow it regardless. It’s having to figure out where you stand, taking your position there and burying your roots deep.
Adulting is healing from a traumatic experience and moving on, only for your antagonist to resurface out of the woodworks years later, undoing all the “healing” you were sure you’d done, leaving you to pick up the pieces alone all over again. It’s being torn between “being the bigger person”, but also wanting to protect yourself, your peace and your sanity.
Adulting is acknowledging that you cannot be good at everything and that intelligence is not the same as wisdom. It’s failing for the first time and wondering if all your life you’ve been a fraud, simply winging it. It’s being invited to speak at an event but chickening out because of the imposter syndrome.
Adulting is seeking adventure but also yearning for stability - a routine of sorts. It’s wanting to travel the world for months on end, while also wanting to establish your very hands-on business and buy a house before 30. It’s watching those around you seemingly getting their act together while you’re stuck in rewind or pause. But, PAUSE: This is not a competition, darling. Social media is a colourful, heavily curated and edited version of people’s dull and mundane realities, a tiny fragment of the true nature of their lives. It’s nothing personal though - this is business. How can one sell without convincing you that you’re lacking something? If you knew the truth, the whole truth, would you buy into it?
Adulting is second-guessing yourself, losing yourself in the sauce sometimes by allowing others to influence how you view yourself, almost always negatively, and then immediately trying to unlearn all that and learning to love yourself for who you are.
Adulting is realising that the world does not stop for you to lick your wounds; you’ve got to get up, painstakingly piece your life back together and catch up again. It’s dropping that mic with fervour, wiping the sweat off your brows and patting yourself on the back because you may not have finished when society expected you to, but you flipping finished regardless!
I say all this to say, growing up can be difficult, but show yourself a little compassion. Have these conversations with peers, and you’ll soon realise that actually, you’re not alone on this ship to Neverland. A lot of us aren’t growing up the way we hoped we would. Ndaiti ndikasvitsa 25, ndaigaya ndenge ndane better life. KaJaguar paDen nekaNice… We carry a lot of unwritten stories, unpublished books, unsung songs, unfulfilled dreams and uninspired career trajectories. Heavy is the load, but weak are the bones that carry it all. Our hearts are weary and torn from the trending heart-break Olympics where savagery gets the highest score and the recklessness with which our governments are destroying our futures and robbing us of the same opportunities our parents had when they were younger. A lot of us are waking up and figuring it out as we go, (but also remembering to take a break and breathe). A lot of us are remembering we have the “real adults” around us for a reason - so we tap into their wisdom based on lived experiences to make our lives slightly less complex. A conversation with the “real adults” will reveal that beyond Neverland lies the “real world” where “resilience” is the buzzword, and you will constantly have to pick yourself up again. A world where people eat disappointment for breakfast and floss with their dying dreams, BUT they wash it down with a bit of hope and tenacity. It’s a tough world, but we’ve got to adapt or go extinct. A Luta continua. Will I fight or will I flee? We shall see…