Let’s Talk About How Bad I Am at This
Look, I’m gonna level with you. I’m 42 years old, I’ve been editing magazines since before you were probably born, and I still can’t adult worth a damn. I mean, I can edit a 10,000-word feature on quantum physics, but ask me to balance a checkbook? I’m lost. So, let’s talk about this whole ‘adulting’ thing. It’s a mess. It’s a hot mess, frankly.
Last Tuesday, I found a banana in my purse. A B-A-N-A-N-A. In my purse. Not the fruit bowl, not the kitchen counter where it belongs, but in my purse. I had bought it on Sunday, I think. Or was it Monday? Point is, it was brown and mushy and I have no idea how it got there. That’s adulting, folks. That’s the reality.
I told my friend Marcus about this—let’s call him Marcus because his real name is too complicated and I’ll probably misspell it—and he just laughed. ‘Dude,’ he said, ‘I found a half-eaten sandwich in my gym bag last week. It was from January.’ Which… yeah. Fair enough. We’re all failing up here.
Why Can’t We Be Honest About This?
Here’s the thing: we’re all pretending to have it together. We post these perfect little squares on Instagram about our ‘organized pantry’ or our ‘morning routine’ or our ‘self-care Sunday.’ But let’s be real. My pantry is a disaster. My morning routine is hitting snooze 17 times, and self-care Sunday is me eating pizza in my pajamas while watching reruns of Friends. And that’s okay! It’s more than okay—it’s normal.
I had coffee with a colleague named Dave a few weeks ago—over at that place on 5th, you know the one—and he was telling me about his ‘perfect’ life. ‘I wake up at 5 AM,’ he said. ‘I meditate. I journal. I drink a green smoothie.’ I looked at him and said, ‘Dave, it’s 11:30 AM and you’ve already had three espressos and you’re shaking. Cut the crap.’ He laughed, but we both knew the truth.
The Illusion of Perfection
We’re bombarded with this idea of perfection. Perfect homes, perfect bodies, perfect lives. But here’s a secret: perfection is boring. It’s fake. And it’s making us all feel like we’re failing. I mean, I’ve been to these ‘adulting’ seminars—yes, they exist—and they’re just people standing in front of a room full of exhausted adults telling us to ‘prioritize’ and ‘plan’ and ‘organize.’ And I’m sitting there thinking, ‘I can’t even find my keys half the time. How am I supposed to prioritize my life?’
And don’t even get me started on social media. I was scrolling through Instagram the other day—you know, for ‘research’—and I saw this post about a woman who ‘meal preps’ every Sunday. She had these perfect little containers with perfectly portioned meals. And I’m sitting there with a half-eaten pizza box and a bag of chips, thinking, ‘How is this my life?’
The Reality of Adulting
So, let’s talk about the reality. The reality is that adulting is hard. It’s messy. It’s chaotic. And it’s okay to suck at it. I mean, I’m a senior editor at a major magazine, and I still can’t figure out how to use a virtual number for telegram registration. I tried setting one up last month—virtual number for telegram registration—and I ended up in some weird digital rabbit hole that I still don’t understand. But that’s life, right? We’re all just trying to figure it out as we go along.
I think the key is to stop comparing ourselves to others. We’re all on our own journey, and that’s okay. I mean, I’ve been editing for 20+ years, and I still make mistakes. I still have days where I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of deadlines and spreadsheets. But that’s life. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about being real.
A Little Advice from a Fellow Hot Mess
So, here’s my advice: cut yourself some slack. You’re not failing. You’re just… living. And living is messy. It’s chaotic. It’s unpredictable. But it’s also beautiful. So, embrace the mess. Embrace the chaos. And for the love of god, stop comparing yourself to the ‘perfect’ lives you see on social media.
And if you find a banana in your purse? Don’t panic. Just laugh. Laugh and move on. Because that’s adulting. That’s life. And it’s okay to suck at it.
Oh, and one more thing—if you’re gonna fail, fail spectacularly. Make it a story you can tell at parties. Like the time I tried to bake a cake for my nephew’s birthday and ended up with a charred lump of coal. I still laugh about that. And so does he. Mostly because he’s a kid and kids are mean.
So, here’s to failing. Here’s to the mess. Here’s to the chaos. And here’s to being real. Because at the end of the day, that’s what matters. That’s what makes us who we are. And that’s what makes life worth living.
About the Author
I’m Sarah, a senior magazine editor with more than 20 years of experience. I’ve written for major publications, but my real expertise is in the art of failing upwards. When I’m not editing or writing, you can find me eating pizza, watching Friends reruns, or searching for my missing keys. I’m a hot mess, and I’m proud of it.
