‘AdulTHING’
When I was a child, I used to dream about wanting to grow up. I’d tell my playmates, “When I grow up, I’ll have my own place, I’ll have a decent stable job that will enable me to earn lots of money, I’ll buy all the snacks I want.”
I thought being an adult meant total freedom. No curfews, no homework, no more asking permission. Just independence, success, and maybe a coffee machine in the kitchen. Legit.
Fast forward to today: I’m 26. Graduated at 22. Passed the Customs Broker Licensure Examination right after. Got my first job at 23. Been working for almost three years now. You’d think with all the milestones checked off the list, I’d be feeling like I made it, right?
Plot twist: Not quite.
Instead, I’m out here drowning in bills, replying to emails at ungodly hours, and wondering if eating instant noodles for the third night in a row is considered a cry for help or just part of the process. This, I realize, is the real face of “adulting.”
Growing up, we all had a Pinterest board of what adulthood would look like: cozy condo, dream job, weekend travels, a fridge that’s actually stocked with food, and enough money to finally buy the expensive perfume.
What we didn’t pin on that board were the things we’re now dealing with: taxes, rent, life insurance, burnt-out Sundays, and existential dread over what’s next in life.
No one told us that adulthood is basically just googling how to do things while pretending you’ve got it all under control.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. I have a job. I’m licensed in my profession, though I’m not practicing it—yet. I get to contribute to my family and save a bit for the future. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel overwhelmed sometimes.
There’s this weird pressure to have everything figured out by a certain age. At 25, you’re supposed to be thriving. At 26, you should be investing. At 27, engaged. At 30? A CEO?
But most of us are just trying to survive one day at a time. We’re not lost—we’re just learning. Slowly, awkwardly, and sometimes with a mild breakdown at 2 a.m., maybe at 3.
What no one tells you about adulthood is that it gets lonely sometimes. There are days when you feel stuck. There are nights when you question if you’re doing enough. There are moments when you miss the simplicity of being a kid, when your biggest problem was finishing your homework before “Wansapanataym” aired on TV.
I catch myself thinking, “How did my parents do this?” I really admire how my parents raised five diverse children, managed a household, showed up to work everyday, paid bills, and even had time for family dinners.
I wonder if they had some sort of secret manual to navigate this crazy adulthood life. But now, I believe they were just figuring things out too, just like we are now.
If you’re in your 20s, 30s, 40s, or even 60s, and still trying to navigate this chaotic world, you’re not alone.
If you’re still studying, enjoy the ride. Learn all you can, but don’t rush to grow up. Adulthood isn’t a finish line, it’s a journey (with a lot of paperwork and waiting in line at government offices).
If you’re working hard everyday, give yourself a break. You’re doing better than you think. Rest can be productive, too.
If you’re lost, unsure, or feeling behind, remember: timelines are personal. Life is not a race, and there’s no shame in taking the scenic route.
And if you’re older and have somehow mastered the balancing act of life, may I request to please drop the life hacks?
After many times of contemplation, observing people who are way more beyond my years, I realized, no one is really prepared to be an adult. Adulthood is not about having everything figured out.
The definition of adulthood may vary based on person’s perspective and experience. But for me, at this moment, adulthood is about doing what you can with what you have. It’s about showing up even when tired, unsure, but still moving forward.
It’s about small wins: paying your bills on time, cooking a decent meal, remembering to water your plants (even if they still die anyway), and making it through another week.
It’s okay to laugh at the chaos, to cry when it’s too much, and to ask for help when you need it.
And most of all, it’s okay to admit: I’m still learning. And that’s enough.
So here’s to us—the confused, the tired, the hopeful. The ones figuring it out day by day. Maybe we don’t have the answers, but at least we have each other.
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John Andrew N. Sapallo, 26, is a licensed customs broker from Oriental Mindoro and working in a private company.
