A field guide to growing up without growing apart
As 20somethings we’re no strangers to failure, often finding ourselves paralyzed by indecision or blinded by ambition. We cringe daily at what we didn’t do and what we haven’t become, what we said and what we believed and yet, as much as we stumble we […]
The idea of a Bucket list has never really appealed to me. It seems like making a list of things to do before you die is so definitive and constricting. What happens if you die without completing it? What happens if you complete it and […]
I’ve been working on a Master’s in Teaching for the past 18 months, and the end is in sight. The last thing I need to do to accomplish this goal is complete 16 weeks of student teaching, and that pursuit has led me halfway around the world to my hometown, where I am now interning at my former high school. It’s a great opportunity, but it comes with a price—exchanging my husband for my parents and younger brother for the next four months.
I’ve now been living at home for two weeks, which equals or exceeds the number of consecutive days I’ve spent in this house in the last several years. Obviously I’m grateful to my parents for having me: the free food is awesome, and I’ve commandeered one of their cars, too. But do the perks of living at home outweigh the annoyance?
My brother, Tweedle-Dum, plays video games all day since he is unemployed until he joins the Navy in a few months. The first day we spent together drove me up the wall—it was maddening to watch him waste away the hours sitting on the couch while I ran around doing productive things. Then there are my parents. Where to begin…
It’s a funny thing I’ve noticed about becoming an adult: suddenly, I am hyper-aware of my parents’ shortcomings. Things that never bothered me growing up are suddenly HUGE pet peeves. For example, their housekeeping. My parents have never had a clean or organized home, and since I am not a neat freak, this never bugged me too much. Of course, back then my brothers and I were a big part of the problem, since we were pretty lazy and were always trying to find ways to get out of doing chores. But since then I must have matured, or something, because suddenly the endless clutter and mountains of dirty dishes are atrocious eyesores I can’t stand to be around. I’ve been visiting the kitchen compulsively, not to snack but to tidy up, throw away random trash left on the counter, or check on the status of the dishwasher.
I think I’ve become accustomed to a different lifestyle, since after moving abroad I haven’t been able to accumulate that much STUFF, at least not nearly as much as my parents have in their twenty-something years of marriage. I like things simple. I like there to be space around me, not piles of Christmas decorations and stacks of unfolded laundry. I like to be able to walk through my garage without needing parkour moves. Is that really so much to ask?
I feel a little bit better, though, knowing that it isn’t just my parents who are hoarding slobs. Today I was having coffee with a good friend who also recently returned home for a while. As we described the headaches of living at home it was like we were telling the same story; apparently she, too, is frequently overcome by the urge to have a massive garage sale while her parents aren’t home and clear out all their crap. The only problem is, I know it would all accumulate again in no time. Even my in-laws show the same symptoms—they have multiple properties filled to the brim with boxes that haven’t been touched in years!
Though the clutter is my main beef with my family right now, there are other things too: the way they cook, their habit of buying way, way too much food, the fact that my dad comes home from work and turns on Fox News…But the thing about these idiosyncrasies that I find fascinating is how we twenty-somethings come to separate ourselves from our parents. Even two or three years ago, I don’t think my family’s dirty kitchen would have bothered me too much, but now it does. It really, really does. How does that happen? Our families shape our values so much, so why is it that I find myself wanting to abandon things that have been standard in my home for as long as I can remember? What other influences in my life have made me the adult that I am today, and what determines where that outside influence diverges from my upbringing?
Of course, I love my family and appreciate much of what they have taught me. But living at home again has made me realize more and more that I am my own person, and that will probably continue to develop for decades to come, until the day when I’m annoying my own grown children by being set in my ways.
So this whole working for my dad thing is complicated. The major things are great. We get along ridiculously well and when we get home we don’t bolt to opposite corners of the house. My mom isn’t too jealous of the time we spend together […]
Why hello there dearest friends, long time no see! I know it’s only been two weeks but doesn’t it feel like more? It’s like I don’t even know you anymore! So much has changed! Dare I say we live in a Whole New World?! Okay, […]
Hello! This week’s post is going to be short and sweet (a rarity for me…), since I’m fresh off a fantastic weekend with our favorite Merskank and I’m flat out exhausted. It was WONDERFUL to have a fellow princess come stay (especially one who suggests cross country ski mountain adventures) and I can’t begin to explain how nice it was to have another 20-something in the house.
As much as I love my parents and my recent quilting endeavor, it was good to be reminded how essential it is to be around good friends. The last time I saw any of the Naughty Princesses in person was Snow Whore’s wedding in September. It was a bitter sweet time, wishing my friend the best of luck with her prince and then watching the four of us jet off to our 4 different corners of the world. Seeing Merskank again brought up all those old mannerisms, college memories and Trivial Pursuit board games that just can’t really happen over Skype, the phone or Facebook.
I have friends here in Utah. Best friends. People I’ve known since high school, middle school and even before elementary. But ever since I’ve been back it has felt a little bit like work to see them. Once we’re together we always have fun, but getting out the door is harder than I’d like it to be. I’ve been telling myself it’s because this time in my life is a break, a time to regroup and figure out what I want and who I want to be. But I know I could do that and still meet people I love at a bar on Friday night. So why do I do the bare minimum to maintain friendships that I would never forgive myself for losing?
Maybe it’s because I’m afraid of everything. I’m afraid to make the transition from long-distance friends to in-person ones. I’m afraid I’ll drift away from my Seattle life or that I’ll get too attached to Utah life. I’m afraid that I’ll miss out on this chance to spend real time with my family, or that my job will get to be too time consuming. I’m afraid that these renewed in-person friendships with long-distance friends won’t actually be as good as before; I’m afraid that I’ll meet more people who I’ll have to miss if I go.
But I don’t want to be afraid. Seeing Merskank reminded me of what I had in Seattle, close friends who were effortless to be around and always up for an adventure. Wandering with her around my new, old home, she showed me that I can have all that in-person friendship here too, albeit with different people. So as of today (well maybe tomorrow. SLEEP.) I’m going to really work on letting go of fear. Just because I might move in the next 6 months doesn’t mean I can’t make some really good memories in the meantime. Now is the best moment of my life and I know relationships are worth eventually having to say goodbye.
If you haven’t gotten the point by now; I’m loving living at home. There are tons of expected perks (free food, rent, an endless supply of craft supplies) but there have been even more unexpected ones too, like my mother waking up early to hug […]
I’m just going to come right out and say it. I was my parents’ DD last night. Yup, you read that right, DD as in Designated Driver (Sober Soldier, Chaste Chauffeur, Timid Transporter, Glum Guide, Boring Betsy… did I just get carried away?) I, a […]
I can’t remember who I was talking to. Maybe she was talking about her lazy son or he was talking about his useless niece, but either way, I listened as she said how ungrateful and incapable the current 30-something generation is. I heard that they didn’t know what hard work was and that their pathetic idea of living is staying in to catch up on the latest season on Netflix. How dare they waste time, raise a generation even worse and feel entitled to more than they’ve earned?
This kind of victimizing talk isn’t new, and we’ve all heard much worse, but that doesn’t make it alright. Even without the beastly generalizations we’re dealing with, why do we always think that we’re the only ones that have it right? Is this ageism some distorted version of the grass is always greener on the other side? Are we just perpetuating the same cycle that had been applied to us?
I know the comment wasn’t directed at me, after all-I’m only 20-something, but it stuck with me enough to garner a little research, and it turns out it hits closer to home than I thought.
There used to be only one generation every 20 years, one name to describe everyone. The 1900’s started with the Lost Generation, continuing on to the Greatest Generation, the Silent Generation, and eventually the Baby Boomers. But once Generation X hit in the 1960’s, things were changing fast and suddenly people weren’t satisfied with only one title or even a few.
Apparently I am a Millennial, part of Generation Y, an 80’s baby. They call me a New Boomer, an Echo Boomer, Generation Next and Generation Net. I hear I am a ‘post emotional’ Trophy Child who is expected to win at competitive sports and ace college exams. I’m told I believe older generations had better morals and I’m much closer to my parents than they were with theirs. They’re right when they say my helicopter parents raised me as part of the Global Generation and that my narcissism requires both my home and my work life to be meaningful. I’ve even been dubbed the Peter Pan Generation, because I never want to grow up and I’ll likely move home like the Boomerang Generation predicts. And all the experts agree; Generation Me exhibits an abnormally high sense of entitlement.
I’m not sure how to feel about all of this. I admit much of it is dead on, but why do I feel like it’s something I have to admit? I get the sense that I should be justifying myself, explaining how living at home is only temporary and how I could have done without all my sports trophies. Why, when I read those descriptions, do I feel guilty, like I’ve let someone down by being a Millennial? Is my birth something I have to overcome?
It gets worse for the next generation. I read that Generation Z (for walking like Zombies while holding their phones out) is just about to graduate from high school and is expected to flounder once they hit reality. Generation Text and Generation Always On knows that the economy isn’t in the best shape, but this high maintenance iGeneration NEEDS the latest gadgets and isn’t prepared to settle. I knew a few years without YouTube and my phone isn’t clued to my thumbs so I can’t be classified as one of these Digital Natives, but, like everyone else my age, I’m glad. I can’t help but look down on these kids, mourning their dependence on technology and worrying about their in depth social profiles. But why do I worry? I’m really not that different, I like the internet, I’m post-graduation floundering, I think Zombies are cool; this Pluralist generation is very close to mine, why then do I feel so superior?
I know this judgment isn’t something reserved for generations; my brother still remembers the class below him with distain. He calls them the 4th graders, because when he was in 5th grade they didn’t show the proper respect for the grades above them, namely his. And he heard the 3rd graders were even worse. We’ve all agreed with the “kids these days” statement at one point or another, do we really all believe our world really been getting progressively worse?
And what about being a 20-something? I know most people hate to remember their teen years, and worry about crossing 30, but I routinely still feel like a teenager, and many times I wish I could feel some of the same things I felt then. Why do spend so much time differentiating myself when I’m really not that different?
So I guess leaves me back where I started, confused about what being part of a generation means. I hope I don’t really believe that kids these days are getting worse and I definitely don’t believe that we necessarily get it right as we age. Things change with time, and I’m okay with that, though admittedly a little afraid. So yes, I am part of the entitlement generation, and it can mean whatever I want it to. It means I’m vain enough to miss my old self as I grow up and that I’m afraid to take a wrong a turn somewhere and miss my path to the awesomeness I know I’m capable of. It means I will work to get things I want and that my greatness can inspire others to do the same. Generation Me means I choose happiness and I will never stop trying to find more. What does your generation mean to you?
P.S. when I was 12 I sang along to this song as Generation X, not Generation Next. I didn’t understand generations then either… But I’ll always love GIRL POWER!
Alright, I’m just going to lay it all out there. I moved back in with my parents and am an unemployed college graduate with no plan. There. Now you know. A few weeks ago I would have stretched the truth and told you that I […]