As I write this, Iām facing a countdown to getting my wisdom teeth removed. Less than 24 hours, and Iāll have finished with another of those procedures, woes, and rites of passage that plague adolescence.
The removal of wisdom teeth seems particularly paradoxical, if taken with that oh-so-convenient joke about wisdom teeth and actual wisdom. Iāve been gradually abandoning those aforementioned adolescent rites of passage, what with growinā up, movinā out, and takinā on more of those adult responsibilities that nobody likes. Even as I get older though, and assumedly wiser, any alleged wisdom will always be curbed by my youth.
Iāll be staying at my parentsā for the first time since I moved out while I recover from surgery, and the prospect of returning to my parentsā for this procedure which is so closely associated with youth is emphasizing how both young and not-young I am now. I live on my own, work full-time, go to school full-time, and my life decisions donāt always require my parentsā approval anymore; conversely, I will continue to need my parents for financial support (especially for pricy medical procedures, like the looming orthodontic ordeal), and Iāll always need their emotional support and advice.
Itās a bizarre tension between moving away from childhood and remaining squarely in juvenescence, and itās a tension I expect Iāll stay in for years to come. As just one example, Millennialsā financial prospects are uncertain at best: weāre slowly edging out Baby Boomers; gradually paying off debt accrued through studying for degrees that are supposed to hook us high-paying jobs but which, in all likelihood, wonāt present tangible reward anytime soon; and facing down market insecurity created by Baby Boomersā financial shenanigans. This should go great, right?
Itās why weāre living with our parents, putting off getting married or having kids, and staying in school as long as possible to avoid entering the āreal world.ā We inhabit the nebulous territory of adults with adult obligations, who canāt quite function without someone propping us up in the right direction.
Unsurprisingly, existing in tension can be uncomfortable and off-putting at times. Grateful as I am that I can accept my parentsā generosity, Iām looking forward to the day when I can be more or less financially independent. The freedom of having my parents to fall back on if I need to is great, but having moved out I feel less and less like I should take advantage of their help. As much as I know theyāre always there for me, part of growing up is having those awful, horrendous responsibilities that nobody wants. I donāt especially want to grow up and start worrying about silly adult concernsādid I use too much hydro this month?ābut I also donāt want to be a perpetual Peter Pan.
Staying with my parents, while delightful, emphasizes for me how much I appreciate living on my own. Donāt get me wrong, theyāre wonderful and lovely, and they coddle me just right when Iām recovering from surgery; but my home isnāt with them anymore. Iāve forged a home thatās with my roommate and his cat, and our rotating door of couch-crashers following an evening of hookah and snacks. My life is different from what it was when I lived with my parents.
Every time I see my mom, she double-checks in her maternally protective way if Iām doing ok: āAre you alright? Do you need anything?ā I do miss my brother and parents, living relatively close to them in the Lower Mainland but far enough away that coming out for family dinners can be a trek; on the whole though, moving out was among the best things I could have done for myself. Itās pushed me to grow up, in a way that I wouldnāt have if Iād stayed with my parents. While I relish in visiting my family and being cared for as only parents can, Iāll revel in returning home.
Hello gorgeous,
Natalie Serafini
