So far in our series we’ve heard from readers who felt they reached adulthood through a variety of significant emotional events: abandoned by parents at an early age, getting busted by the cops, barely averting the wrath of a communist regime, losing a comrade in combat, getting properly diagnosed with autism, and coming out of the closet. Our latest reader experienced a far more common event:
I became an adult after my first marriage ended. Up until that point, I was living my life in service to and at the direction of my husband, my father, my mother, and every other figure of authority that moved through my world. When my marriage ended I was faced with the reality that those to whom I had I trusted my life had not actually agreed to accept that responsibility.
It took another year and a half to fully grasp what this meant. January 4, 2010. The day I broke. This is also the day that I found my bootstraps, grew up, and moved into adulthood. Today I have designed a lovely life that looks and feels and sounds and behaves exactly like me.
From a woman in her early 30s:
I was always a tiny adult from a young age—an only child of an only child, with a single mother who herself was the daughter of a single mother. I related better to adults than children and couldn’t wait to grow up. I knew what all the signifiers were, and I was on track to attain them all.