As a child, excited to be an adult one day, I decided that it was 23 when anyone became an adult. There wasn’t any objective reasoning to it. Well, not for the world.
You see people turn into adults at different ages in their life. More than age, it is the combination of experiences that helps you grow and mature.
But, for my 8-year-old mind, it seemed the right age. You were just twenty when you were a twenty-something navigating college — still not a proper adult. 23 seemed to be the right age. All 23-year old I knew of then seemed capable of making decisions in their life. They were all doing well for themselves, at least on the pedestal that I had put them on. They knew what was right and what wasn’t. Most of all, when they spoke, people valued their opinions.
Therefore, it seemed only right (and slightly ironic) that life chose my twenty-third birthday to kick me into accepting the end of childhood. It sprung heavy decisions on me and made me see the value of health — mine and the people who I loved or cared for. It made me deal with rejection and curse upon life’s unfairness, never the less made me value it more. Because, the opposite of life, I realised wasn’t death. It was nothing.
So, while I felt grateful for all the people who choose to remember me and wish me, I was ever more grateful to a few people who could bear me crying. And who didn’t try to make it right, but let me do it and understood that is what I needed.
23 was the year of unlearning, and it is as much adult-y as it could get.
The first thing I unlearnt was the need to say yes all the time. I understood I had to ask for space when I needed it. It also made me see why I needed boundaries. I had to do it for my sake. I couldn’t feel more guilty for not taking up calls, but I was drained.
Of the other things I learnt, one of the crucial ones was to not let my introverted-ness dry up my communication. I told myself over and over again, trying to convince myself, that I had good ideas and thoughts and I needed to let the people around me know when I was stuck. I did that. It has helped me in more ways than I thought it could.
Also, I have been trying to let go of the conditioning that my school forged on me. Taking a break isn’t a lack of productivity. It is not laziness either.
I learnt if I can’t agree with my parents on everything. How will society evolve if I was the same person as my parents? I needed to let go of what they would think if I did something they did not approve of.
But, I needed to make my own decisions and learn to live with the consequences. Because, if I never took decisions because I will have to live with the results, how would I ever believe in myself?
I travelled because it was too convenient for me to stay at home. I travelled because it caused dishevelling on my behalf. I got out to meet new people. I am grateful for all they have taught me.
I have learnt to live with what my friends decide for themselves. They will learn to live with it.
I have let go of the need to be in control all the time. I have accepted that sometimes I would be at the steering wheel, sometimes I’d get a lift, and other times I would be using public transport. If I can’t control what direction to change, I can simply get down and choose a different means. But, I need a combination of everything to not overwhelm myself.
This year, I unlearnt birthdays. I’ve forgotten to wish so many people this year.
I am also starting to accept that hard work is not the way I want to do things. I want to put in the effort, but I also am willing to take help.
That single fact has been the biggest obstacle I put forth for myself.
I’ve accepted not to take people on their word. I don’t think badly of them afterwards, either. It helps to balance my expectations.
I accept that I value friendships greatly.
Though, the greatest discovery is finding the weight of freedom and fear encompassed in a word: independence. I didn’t know of independence before. Not truly. I was trying to fit in.
Having made decisions for myself made me see how fiercely and proudly careless I’ve become of what people think of me. I want things for myself and I want to achieve those because I am capable. It isn’t to make my family proud or prove something to society. Of course, I’d love it if my family would happy with what I do. But, it isn’t the ultimate aim.
I also don’t know the aim. It is partly to create an impact. Even a small one would do. But also to be happy along the way. To enjoy the process a bit.
Along the way, I have learnt to take care of myself too. I understand self-care better now. While sometimes it may mean indulging in unhealthy ideas or food or routines, it isn’t mostly that. It is to take care of myself. This would involve keeping my body — physically and mentally — healthy. It is also consuming the right things — food and ideas.
Life, now I know is a competition. Not with others, but with my own younger self. I have to try to be better than what I was a day before in small and big ways.
After all, as “the whole is greater than the sum of its parts”, so is life. It is more than the sum of all days I live.
