For me, the most surprising thing about this life stage called ‘adulthood’ is how totally not on top of it I feel myself to be. I’m not sure what I expected when I was younger, but I definitely harboured a vague sense that, somewhere into my 40s, I would arrive at a sort of psychological precipice where, looking down and observing the vista of my life experiences, I would go, ‘Yes! Now I get it!’ What I definitely didn’t anticipate was to get to this age and for things to be as unclear and bewildering as they have ever been, only I’m responsible for a whole lot more and expected to know stuff I don’t. And it makes me wonder if anyone out there really feels like they’re on top of things.
When I’m asked to do adult-y stuff like deliver a lecture or talk on the radio I want to say, ‘Sure, but you guys know I’m seven years old, right?’ It sounds funny, but the truth is that I regularly feel out of my depth, and I’ve discovered that few things we’re called on to do in this lifetime are more grown-up than having kids of our own. I remember distinctly taking my first, newborn baby to meet her Danish family. The second my sister-in-law took her she started yelling and, understandably, was handed back in a hurry. It was all I could do to stop myself from saying, ‘Are you mad? Don’t give her to me; find a real mother!’ But apparently I was one, so I had to try to figure out what she needed. Now that she’s a tween whose behaviour, on bad days, verges on psychotic, I find myself trying to figure out what she needs even more while keeping up some sort of façade of maturity and expertise.
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I suppose, to a large extent, what defines adulthood is our ability to bluff convincingly. As long as we’re fooling those around us, they’ll never discover that we have no clue what we’re doing. I think someone coined the term ‘imposter complex’, which surely must mean I’m not the only one who thinks she’s going to get found out any second. When I encounter people who do seriously scary things like perform brain surgery or defend people in public court hearings I wonder if they sneak to the loo and lock themselves in a cubicle and go, ‘Holy crap, I can’t believe they’re letting me do this.’ And I think of the generation before us who were even more obliged to fake their way through life’s challenges and pretend they knew what they were doing. Men like my dad, who were born in the 1930s were under even more pressure to perform. Imagine a man of that cigarette-smoking, super-capable, tough-guy ilk admitting that he was scared or sad or feeling overwhelmed. It must have been really hard for them.
It’s so great that, for the most part, girl and boy children are being raised to express what they think and feel and I see, in my own kids, a definite link between having their emotions affirmed and the intrinsically self-confident way they navigate their worlds. When you’re told it’s okay to feel stuff you’re being told it’s okay to be you. So, of the very few things I think I’ve learnt, one is that it’s okay to be honest about where we are and to show our vulnerability from time to time. When I stand in front of that lecture hall and go, ‘Wow, guys, this is scary!’ my admission is invariably greeted with warmth and acceptance. In fact, I’ve never had anything but kindness come my way when I’ve been brave enough to tell it like it is. It seems to give people licence to exhale and be less than perfect too. And a world where we’re allowed to be who we are and where that thing is enough is so much nicer a place to live.
Susan Hayden is the voice behind the popular blog Disco Pants & A Mountain
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