Rethinking Adulthood Anxious Times New Definitions

It’s weird to think about milestones these days. Like, everyone talks about buying a house, or having kids, but those things feel… distant. Not impossible, exactly, just like something that belongs to a different era than this one. When my mom tells me I should be “settled” by now, I smile and nod, even though “settled” has become such an abstract concept. It used to mean something specific—a stable job, a mortgage, maybe a little garden. Now? It’s just… a vague aspiration.

I remember when Jacobs Pavilion was packed for the show last month. The energy was intense, but there was this undertone of collective restlessness too. Everyone so focused on *making* things – music, art, businesses—but what happens *after* that making? There's pressure to create a life as impressive as the work you put out into the world. And if that life doesn’t fit the mold, what does it mean?

My dad keeps sending me links for “financial literacy” courses. He means well, I know he does. It comes from a place of genuine concern and wanting me to be secure. But sometimes, those emails feel like another little reminder of how far off-track things might seem compared to what was expected. Saving feels less like an investment in the future and more like trying to bail out a sinking boat with a teaspoon. And I know that’s not unique to my experience.

I've been thinking about skill acquisition, too. Not just the technical skills – coding, graphic design (things you can learn from YouTube, ostensibly) - but the *life* stuff. How do you navigate complex negotiations at work? How do you build a credit score when your income is inconsistent? How do you even figure out what “negotiating” looks like in a rental agreement? These things aren’t taught in school. There are so many practical gaps, and finding someone to explain them without judgment feels… difficult.

It's easy to get caught up in the comparison game online. Seeing everyone else’s curated lives – the travel photos, the perfectly decorated apartments – can be paralyzing. It’s not that I envy those things, necessarily. More than anything, it reinforces this feeling that I’m lagging behind some invisible timeline. The whole concept of "adulting" itself feels performative.

My blog is… something. Just a place where I write down what I'm observing. Sometimes people read it, which is strange and validating in small doses. Mostly, it's just an outlet. That little burst of twenty-seven readers the other night? It felt significant because I finally wrote something that genuinely resonated with me – an observation about how we’re all trying to figure this out together, even if we look like we have our lives completely under control.

There’s a quiet anxiety that comes with realizing you don't have all the answers. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe "adulting" isn't about having it all figured out, but about learning to be comfortable with the ambiguity. It's finding joy in the process of skill-building, even when you fail spectacularly along the way.

Ultimately, I think the definition of adulthood is changing. The old markers—marriage, homeownership, career stability—aren’t necessarily reflecting reality anymore. And maybe that's not a bad thing. It creates space for new definitions, for individualized pathways to success and happiness. Even if my version looks a little different from everyone else’s.