Being An Old Adult

Jamie Hewlett

Yes, there’s a fuckton of shit that’s awful and stupid about being on the backside of adulthood BUT there ARE some finer, more fun bits too.

Such as?, you may be pessimistically asking. Well, lemme just lay it out for you.

*   If I’m of a mind to lay in bed reading back issues of comics like Tank Girl and Silver Surfer all day, I can do that. Who’s gonna stop me? Ten, Jen, Kevin and Oni? Cake, Skitter, and Walter? Oh pleazzze. They’re more apt to grab snacks and bevs and join me.

*   If some troll-ass miscreant is annoying me on social media I can make them disappear. Blockety, Block, Block. This isn’t high school with teachers, fellow students, and coaches ignoring the bullies abusing me (or being the bullies themselves). My mother’s not around to fluff me off with bullshit advice (ignore them and they’ll go away; they pick on you because they like you; they’ll get bored and stop—they did but not until the ringleader got knocked up in our senior year). AND Mother’s not gonna tell me to be nicer to the brother who threw me across rooms, broke my bones, and brought home his friends who’d threatened to kill me.It's nearly 50 years on and I'm still thrilled down to the atomic level that home is a safe place.

*   While not quite as accomplished as Cake, Sktter or Walter, I've learned how to relax withOUT having had a martini or two first.

*   Being retired means that I don’t need to be painfully diplomatic to rude, idiotic coworkers. I only mention it but diplomacy is mega important and I’m sincerely glad I got the hang of it (eventually but better late than not at all). Still, for me anyway, being diplomatic’s some wicked heavy fucking work.

*   Being a not-young-at-all woman means that I’m more or less invisible to most men on the planet. I don’t miss the unsolicited dick pics and other unwanted cringe-tastic attention AT ALL.

*   I don’t feel guilty for having boundaries. Mother raised me to be a servant, a nursemaid, a caregiver to everyone who isn’t me. Daddy, on the other hand, told me to be myself and NEVER be a doormat. Yeah, it was confusing as hell. I always felt like I was the center of a tug of war. Luckily, I’m more like my father.  

*   I’ve got a hell of a lot more self-confidence now than I did at 25, 35 or 45. I like myself. Yeah, I still have regrets and continue to do boneheaded things (like endlessly, needlessly putting off finishing my tax prep) BUT, on the whole, I’m more accepting and forgiving of myself than I used to be.

*   I can see some, if not all, of my finer qualities. Such as?  

• Without being a doormat, I can be kind and caring. If I’ve got the dosh, time, and/or energy to spare to help someone out, I will.

• I don’t see the world through a monochrome filter (which is NOT the same as bothsidesism. NO, there is NOTHING worthwhile about Trump’s nazis/MAGAts. They’re a waste of air). 

• Like the Chumbawamba song proclaims:

     I get knocked down
     But I get up again
     You're never gonna keep me down

• I’m an angry old bee BUT I’ve learned to evaluate, measure, and direct my rage and act accordingly. That is, I haven’t killed anyone for their entitled, penis-brained, coldhearted inanity.

Yet.