Rediscovered

Dear Wednesday,

No one grows up voluntarily.

Most of us are dragged kicking and screaming into adulthood— we resist and rebel, until we discover that it’s probably in our best interest to behave in a way that doesn’t completely alienate us, since we need jobs and roofs and sandwiches and fleece jackets and someone to warm our bed.

We learn to like power in whatever form we can wield it, the breathlessness of intimacy, and the indescribable joy when a challenge is met and overcome. We learn the contentment of ceding to biology and brushing our hair until it shines, throwing our body over our child to protect it, and lusting with purpose and deliberation.

Our young selves never disappear though, do they? They hang around inside us like a dinner guest that has outstayed their welcome, maybe wanting one more coffee or a glass of wine and another piece of cake. Needy, sometimes. Reckless, other times. And sometimes, our inner young self is the guest who brings up that humiliating moment we’d rather stayed hidden and suppressed.

While our young inner self lives in hope of having long unfulfilled needs met, our adult self lives in hope that everything will make sense someday; that insight slowly creeping into our consciousness like liquid spilling through floorboards, that the purpose of life is not success, children, power, love, god— but to somehow, sometime, make sense of it all.

Related to the theme of growing up, may I present a few of my favourite cartoons?

cartoon good or slut