This adulting thing

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A friend asked me how I am today. I said fine. They said am I sure? I said yes. They said I don’t sound fine, that they really care and want to know what is going on. There is a kind of care that makes you think deep and search wide for issues, just because you don’t want the care to go to waste. I mean, in this world where people have default selfish settings from the womb and would rarely give a care unless it is for unsolicited advice like what to post on your social media page and how your one child is still like childlessness and so you must have seven more, finding that kind of genuine care is really hard. Well, me, I didn’t have to think. I knew what was going on, and I told my friend. Adulting. That was it. In all its glorious stressfulness and merciless responsibilities. In this whole world, ‘adulting’ is my most pressing concern.

Nothing prepares you for this adulting of a thing. It just creeps up on you like Ojuju Calabar, and next thing, you’re in an office, working your adulting life away. You don’t realize ten years has gone until you stumble upon that stray grey hair at the left side of your head. In weeks it has summoned its brothers, and has now become a patch of whites, demanding rights of residence. Heck, they even have a national anthem and are mostly polygamous, reproducing and taking over the black population with vigour. You almost want to cry.

This adulting thing requires making some hard fearful choices. It requires deep thought, weighing stuff on a scale of ‘what matters most to me?’ and comparing the winning weights on the scale of ‘will it bring money?’. See, those guys you think have it all figured out are sometimes as scared as you are. It is the hard truth I am starting to realize. I mean, hey, God is in control. Still, you worry sometimes if your adulting choices are the right ones. Isn’t that why you pray? For guidance?

While I cannot claim to be chief adult myself (hehehe…for where? Some mornings I just wake up and want to cry out for my Mommy. Sometimes, all I want is a tutu and pom-poms and colored ribbons in my hair and a mosquito-less, stressless sleep on the couch, the type that truncates on a bed you magically appear on), I think one lesson to keep handy is acting in the face of fear, doing it anyway, whatever ‘it’ means. Job interviews scare me shitless. Lagos, the mere thought of it, bothers my tummy and gives me goosebumps. In-laws are one big bridge I will cross; the fact that they must like you for you to succeed in this life (okay, I’m kidding. I?), and childbirth? I’ve started confessing my easy delivery since secondary school sha, so no shaking.

These are issues, and there are tons more. But people are doing them and doing them successfully. Some are doing them over and over and getting thick skins and several brands of odeshi, conquering and winning. So why not you? Why not me? The way forward would be committing my ways into God’s hands and acting in the face of fear. This is what the caring friend said. This is what I am saying to you too, oh ye ‘adulter’. Go, and do.

Ife Olujuyigbe