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Good Adulting Day
Do you ever have a good adulting day? A day when you feel confident, content, and capable of executing your responsibilities? They come around every once in a while for me, and last week I had one of those days. Nothing remarkable happened; it was an ordinary day by any other standard. But at the end of it, I realized how much like an adult I felt.
At 38, I’m very much aware I’ve been an adult for two decades. I’ve gotten married, birthed two people, kept multiple dogs alive, purchased and sold real estate twice over, paid taxes, traveled solo. But sometimes, I still feel like a kid playing dress up. Like the wizard behind the curtain, convincing people I’m more than what I am. More colloquially known as imposter syndrome.
So when I’m able to recognize the fuzzy feeling of accomplishment and know in my bones that I earned that self-confidence, I take note. It’s something I started doing in the throes of postpartum depression. On bad days, it helps remind myself mental illness is a liar. The good days are who I am at my core. In the immortal words of Taylor Swift, “They said, ‘Babe you got to fake it til you make it’ and I did.” (Honestly, that song has become my anxiety and depression anthem this year.)
Set Up For Success
The fact that I felt so sure of myself was all the more surprising given my lack of sleep the night before and my early morning antics. I had to set the alarm earlier than usual to make a 7 a.m. appointment with my physical therapist. (No worries, it’s just “joint weakness” in my big toe – getting older physically sucks but is mentally awesome.) Creeping out of the house before the rest of the family woke up was a feat in and of itself because I swear my children don’t sleep. My PT and I noticed progress, another accomplishment considering the 12-mile run Katie and I completed over the weekend. It’s a wonder just my toe is rebelling.
To celebrate my PT progress and the perfect summer weather in Chicago, I took a 30-minute recovery run outside. Only to return home at 9 a.m. and have my children think I was still in bed the whole time. It was a cruel reminder of how many mornings I’ve spent in bed due to depression over the course of their childhood. But there was no judgment in my sons voices – just my inner one.
After a quick rinse to feel refreshed, I threw on an outfit I was excited to wear ushering in the transitional summer-autumn weather: chambray shorts and a Fisherman sweater. Then the kids and I made our way over to Sky Zone (a trampoline park that’s become a godsend for my rambunctious boys) so they could play with friends. And it was there, dear reader, that I felt myself start to shine.
No Small Talk Here
As a highly sensitive introvert, it takes significant effort for me to engage with other people sometimes. Especially if I don’t know the other person well. And that was going to be the case with this playdate, because the mother of my sons’ friends was someone I’d met a couple times – we were room parents together a couple years ago – but didn’t know well outside the school setting. So I had mentally prepared and resigned myself for small talk for a couple hours.
Here was this beautiful woman who seemingly had it all together: a full-time job in a competitive academic field while raising three boys, including a newborn. She was even telling me about volunteering over the summer with the PTA. I was gobsmacked and impressed. When she turned the conversation on me to ask what was going on lately, I stumbled. I’m just a stay-at-home mom with two older kids who’s trying to keep her brain chemistry balanced and as far away from the PTA as possible.
I couldn’t think of anything to say that would qualify as polite conversation with an acquaintance (at best). So I took a risk and just told her the truth. I skipped the small talk and told her about Dave’s suicide, how it really took my anxiety and depression on a whirlwind this summer and that I was just starting to feel like myself again thanks to some medication tinkering. She graciously shared she struggles with those mental illnesses too. And with that, we were off to the races. We bonded over our childhoods, being eldest daughters, raising boys after growing up in all-girl households. All while she balanced caring for her newborn.
Full-Circle Moment
It reminded me of a moment when I was a new mom, struggling with my toddler and newborn, and felt seen by a fellow mom. I was at Target on the verge of a panic attack, desperate for adult connection, while my colicky baby and active toddler demanded my attention. A local business owner who I knew only by frequenting her store recognized me at checkout. We exchanged pleasantries before I broke down and asked her for a hug (if you know me, you know I’m not a big hugger).
She felt safe to me, and I was right. We talked openly about postpartum depression and medication; she gave me her number and made sure I was okay before I went home with my boys. It was a gesture of kindness I will never forget and one that reminded me that motherhood is a tribe like no other.
And now here I was, paying it forward. Listening to another new mom describe the challenges she faced, bearing witness to her isolation and overwhelm. Recognizing and affirming how hard it is to be a parent, let alone one who struggles with her own mental health. In that Sky Zone, with children running amok and screaming gleefully, we connected over our stigmas and helped each other feel less alone. And dare I say, I think we became friends!
Living the Good Life
The rest of my day continued hitting high notes. On our way home, we picked up the son of my close friend Emily, reminding me that I’ve cultivated friendships akin to family. The kids happily played at our house the rest of the afternoon. While Arthur managed the boys at home, I took further advantage of the weather by bringing the dogs to drop off a due library book. The simple act of walking around our neighborhood, taking in the beauty of each block and the sun-dappled sidewalks, noticing the diversity of people walking or biking to their next destination, filled me with an appreciation for loving where I live (which if you ask my husband, doesn’t happen often enough).
Once Emily picked up her son and I started making dinner, I realized what a simple yet satisfying day I had. My kids were socialized, exercised, and fed. I had gotten household tasks done during the playdate and successfully socialized, exercised, and fed myself throughout the day. After my family enjoyed our meal and I began washing my face, I asked Arthur to commemorate this good feeling with a picture. I was an adult and felt like I nailed it that day. Life was good.
My husband kindly took a photo of me in all my giddy glory. Proof for future me that I am an adult and can feel like one sometimes, even on simple days. Life is good.
2 comments on “Good Adulting Day”
Love this and you, Charli – thanks for being my friend that is family!
♥️