As I continue to adult for over three decades, I have come to the conclusion that adulting is no fun. Unfortunately and realistically, I have been adulting since I was fourteen or fifteen years old. When one is poor one does not have the luxury of being a child for long. My parents were not good with money, so at a very early age I started working, primarily teaching younger kids for money. I was more financially responsible than both my parents, so I was given the job of managing household budget. When I think back on it, I realize how stressful it was, trying to balance our expenses including repaying debts that we had incurred to maintain our household and our status in society as middle class.

Once I fell in love, adulting became much more exciting. The stolen glances, the holding hands, the gorgeous smile of my boyfriend directed at me made my heart flutter. Marriage was an adventure. Parenthood was the busiest, most challenging, and most rewarding part of my adulthood. But then came financial decisions, savings, planning for future, what to do for our retirements, health concerns, aging parents who lived far away. Adulting became a lot more work. I don’t have a head for numbers. IRAs, Roth IRAs, CDs, 403Bs sound like harsh, alien words. I want to shut my ears. Truly. Yet, we have to make decisions 🙄.  Save for our old age, pay for college, look for our last home. The worst part of adulting (mature adulting?) is losing our parents and other loved ones. We have reached that age where the generation who used to be our roof is slowly fading out. We are moving up to the roof – cycle of life.

But here is the best part. For me, the routine in our house growing up was something like this. Wake up, clean up and then study. My mother believed in the discipline of doing school work in freshly rested mind. Unless it was Durga puja or my birthday, there was no exception to this rule. After final examination though I was allowed to wake up and crack open a story book and read for pleasure. Ma still believed that if not school work, I should read when I wake up to continue the habit of reading/studying during break between classes. I still remember how I cherished those mornings. Honest confession? I was one of those kids who hid story books inside text books and read with unwavering attention. My mother beamed at my concentration as she passed by. This morning, as I opened my book to read with my morning coffee, I realized that this is the best part of being an adult. I know my responsibilities and make my own decisions. No more hiding books within text books. Of course, I have to go to work, I have to finish a few chores before I go. But nobody can stop me from indulging in my reading in the morning, or whenever I want. And nobody (but my conscience and glucose level) to frown upon me as I eat a chocolate bar that pair beautifully with a good book.

Adulting is not all bad.