On growing up

“If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up! Not me!” – Peter Pan

Peter Pan has always been one of my favourite stories. Creative, more than a little dark, and ever so resonant - anyone who has ever fought against the pull of time, or longed to grow up and felt the frustration of a friend not maturing alongside you, can find something familiar in its pages. I was never one for climbing trees, but I can still sympathise with Peter in his desire to cling on to childhood.

I have reached that stage in my life where the prospect of growing up – becoming a proper adult – is not just nipping at my heels, but is rather violently dragging me forwards. I’m technically supposed to be a grown-up already, right? 26 going on 27, gradually approaching my late twenties…this is the point at which you are supposed to be a grown-up. My parents were probably grown-ups at this point in their lives. My grandparents definitely were.

Certain things in my life are beginning to make this impetus to grow up all the more present. In a few months, for example, I will no longer be an official “young person”, according to National Rail. I will be forced to surrender that particular badge and, with it, the ability to travel around the country without completely bankrupting myself. Equally, I have attended two friends’ weddings now. Weddings have moved away from being events that I attended out of familial obligation - a bit dull, a bit too long, and a bit above my head - to occasions where my friends suddenly morph into real adults who are probably going to be starting families soon.

…FAMILIES.

That, alongside the ever-encroaching fear brought on by successful friends who are on real “career trajectories” (lawyers, teachers, editors, entrepreneurs), is making me feel like there’s a calendar somewhere with “grow up” written on it in big letters, and the number of days to cross off between now and then is reducing by the minute.

Now, I am not saying that I am a complete child. I have a proper full-time job. I pay bills, and rent, and other extortionate costs associated with living in London. I have a certain level of maturity about life, relationships, and the way in which I put myself out there. I have learnt when to stop drinking in order to avoid hellish hangovers, and am past the point where I can go clubbing without feeling like a bit of a fraud (though, to be fair, this has always kind of been the case). But…BUT…my life is nowhere near being sorted. I don’t know where I’ll be this time next year, or what I’ll be doing. Shouldn’t adults be sure of that kind of information?

Growing up, of course, is rarely something that we’re aware of doing. Maturity sneaks up on you, and before you know it...one day you'll be looking in the mirror, or will catch yourself in the middle of a thought, and you'll realise that you've changed. That you're not the uncertain, “taking each day as it comes” person you were before. Without noticing it happen, your life has fallen into a sort of orderliness around you. That is - I believe - how it generally happens.

Then again, perhaps that's not quite the same thing as "growing up". Perhaps we never really consider ourselves to be “grown up”. It does sort of imply a finality that jars with the way we live our lives, doesn’t it? As if you reach a stage and then stop developing, stop learning, and become stuck with what you have. A scary thought indeed. Maybe we’d all be better off if we strove never to be grown up. To be forever “in development”. Sounds like much more of an adventure to me.