I moved into the apartment I live in now about two months ago. I was excited to adorn my bookshelf with a few books as well as the stand alone space-takers that create aesthetic. I’d gotten a desk and a printer and was re-purposing my comforter to fit the style of the girls that were already living there. I’d sorted my shoes and sent my winter clothes home when realized I had no where to put my pants. They were making my normal clothes-on-the-floor mound larger than normal, so we (I and my pants) declared an intervention.
The weekend had come, the dresser had been bought, and I naively started construction around 7 thinking I’d be tucked in bed around 11.
*cue buzzer noise from Family Fued*
Y’all, my pants stayed on the floor for another THREE DAYS because this was something terrible and in between IKEA dressers and real furniture store dressers-not yet assembled but still not easy to assemble either. So here I am, on the floor with my pile of pants and the 79 pieces of dresser across my bedroom floor, forcing my poor roommates to step between possible splinter situations, trying to put this thing together. About 2/3 of the way in I realized I used the wrong black screws in place of the other black screws, I then proceeded to unscrew and reassemble.This dresser was a journey. But I was determined, and after about a half season of How To Get Away With Murder, it was BUILT.
I felt slightly like a child had been born, my labor of love was created. I’ll be honest, the third drawer rubs against the sides a little more than it should….and there are 100% a few scratches on the front that it didn’t come with-but she works. And now, my pants have a home (yay).
This day I had ‘adulted’. I hear this word adulting a lot, mostly in the context of going to work or the gym or planting an herb garden. And while it is all those things, there might be more to it.
The question I found myself asking was, “Have I made a false equivalency between adulting and maturity? Did I trade what only comes with work for the inevitable?”
Adulthood technically will come to most of us, at least legally. At some point we will likely all make it to 18, to college, to rent payments, these things come, unprovoked, whether you’re ready or not. And I’m thinking that maybe in the (appropriate) excitement that often comes with those things I thought that maturity would just come stapled to the side like a booklet of instructions…but it doesn’t.
What could be worse is that the ‘adult things’ make me feel really busy and productive and successful, and then if seeking maturity was once a thought, it’s easily forgotten after that.
There’s a Proverb that says, seek wisdom, get understanding. Broken down it means, Wisdom is supreme; therefore, get it.
This meaning it’s not just coming to me, no mater how much I want it.
So really, adulting isn’t having the dresser, but is more like building the dresser. Laboring over the dresser. Because the relationships will come, but the maturity to forgive and understand someone else is something to be labored over. The job will come, but the discipline to optimize your work and increase you leadership is something to be sought. The succulent garden probably at this point has to come, but hey, it needs water too.
*cover photo for this post from Squared.one