Summary

The article "When Will I Grow Up?" reflects on the personal struggle of embracing maturity while holding onto youthful spontaneity and joy.

Abstract

In a candid exploration of personal growth and maturity, the author of "When Will I Grow Up?" questions when they will adopt more responsible habits, such as tidiness, punctuality, and financial organization. Simultaneously, the author expresses a desire to maintain a playful and carefree spirit, enjoying life's simple pleasures like late-night snacks, Netflix binges, and the occasional lie-in. The narrative oscillates between the aspiration to be a more reliable and self-disciplined individual and the fear of losing the essence of their youthful, vibrant self. The author concludes that while certain adult responsibilities are inevitable, it is equally important to preserve the inner child's sassiness, fun, and sense of wonder.

Opinions

The author acknowledges the need to improve habits such as managing emails, maintaining a clean space, and being punctual.
There is a reluctance to fully embrace adulthood, as it is associated with losing the charm and playfulness of youth.
The author values close relationships, showing love and appreciation through actions rather than material gifts.
A disdain for unsolicited advice, particularly regarding car maintenance, is implied, suggesting a resistance to societal pressures of perfection.
The author recognizes the importance of self-love and self-esteem, emphasizing inner qualities over external appearances.
There is a recognition of the need to balance discipline with the joy of life, advocating for moderation rather than strict adherence to adult norms.
The author expresses a longing to recapture the fearless and loving spirit of their childhood self.

When Will I Grow Up?

Because I really don’t want to…

When will I stop leaving dirty laundry on the floor? Dirty dishes in the sink? When will I have a clean kitchen most of the time or not be embarrassed to have an unexpected visitor because there are panties crumpled on the floor in the bathroom?

When will I stop staying up past midnight because I didn’t get all my work done? Stop hitting the snooze button? Stop wishing I could lie in a bed for another hour?

When will I stop snacking at ten o’clock at night? Stop eating lunch at two in the afternoon because I got too distracted by my work? Stop sneaking one extra piece of chocolate?

When will I answer my emails on time? Stop putting off the assignments I don’t want to work on? Avoiding my text messages and voicemail?

When will I stop bingeing on Netflix shows? Avoiding bedtime reading that might help me prepare for sleep and keep my mind sharp? Scrolling through Instagram instead of stretching, getting a glass of water, or finishing my chores?

When will I get the oil changed in my car on time? When will I stop being five minutes late to every appointment? When will I stop forgetting to pay the electric bill before it’s due?

When will I be a more reliable friend, calling regularly, texting often, sending birthday cards on time? When will I make enough money to buy my nieces and nephews exciting trips or to create college funds for them? When will I be generous enough to help my father without resentment?

When will I love what I see in the mirror? When will I decide to have solid self-esteem, to negotiate with employers, to embrace only relationships in which I am treated well? When will I learn to stand up for myself?

Don’t let me lose my playfulness that refuses to adhere to my chore schedule. Don’t let me become too organized, too good at cleaning up after myself. Isn’t part of my charm that there’s always at least one pair of dirty underwear on my floor?

Don’t let me lose my love of the night, the energy that surges through me after dinner and makes me want to stay up past midnight so I can work on my novels. Don’t let me get so serious that I have to get up at five every day, or that I stop wishing for just ten more minutes of sleep.

Don’t let me lose my appetite for life or food. Don’t let me become so strict that I never eat after a certain hour. Let me relish the little snacks I sneak after dinner and laugh at myself when I find crumbs on my shirt when I change into my pajamas. And please don’t let me lose my sweet tooth. Nothing charms me more than looking in the mirror and finding a smear of chocolate on my face.

Don’t let me lock myself to my computer, even in order to answer personal emails. My friends are so damn punctual, they’ll just email back within hours and I’ll end up right back where I began — with a dozen emails to answer. Don’t let me become so efficient and focused that I always finish my work early and make more time for more work. I’m attached to my phone enough — give me a pass on those forgotten texts and voicemails.

Maybe we can work on the Netflix bingeing. I really need to read more. But don’t let me get too hard on myself with the TV-watching. And Instagram…well, I’m hardly ever on Facebook anymore. Maybe I’ll pull back from Instagram on my own.

You know I hate getting the oil changed on my car. I can’t stand it when the male attendants start sentences with, “You know, you really should…” And do I really want to be one of those annoying people who schedules oil changes ahead of time and sets calendar reminders for it? Ugh.

As for punctuality, I was 10 minutes early for everything until I got into my 40s. I think it’s time I can be the flustered, late person now, who always forgets everything. That seems fair, right?

I’m probably as good a friend as I’m ever going to be. Let’s face it. But my friends love me anyway and I send them lots of silly GIFs to show them how much I appreciate them.

I spend time with my nieces and nephews — I talk with them, play with them, send them mail through Owl Post, apply their makeup on Halloween, smell their feet and pretend to be disgusted, read to them, take them on hikes, and cuddle them when they’re sad. They probably don’t mind that I’ve never taken them to London and probably will be happier that I gave them attention and love rather than money for college.

And my dad…well, he appreciates my efforts and I’m learning (slowly) to enjoy this time with him instead of feeling anger about the situation.

Each day, I’m trying more and more to see what’s on my inside, rather than what’s on my outside. It’s only going to go downhill from here, after all. This shell doesn’t matter. I’m learning to love myself, one tiny step at a time, even when it feels like it’ll take the rest of my life to accomplish this task.

I don’t really want to grow up. I’d rather go backwards and become the little girl I used to be — sassy, fun, outrageous, brave, loving, and filled with wonder.

Let me learn how to be her again. Dirty underwear on the floor, chocolate on her face, and a smile that could light up the world.

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Because I really don’t want to…

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