This Thing Called Adulthood

Guys, I’ve been on a streak of bad luck lately. My phone fell from my daughter’s cot and quite literally decided it’s done with life. Normally, I’d respect that decision—except it’s my phone, and I need it. It’s got everything on there.

Maybe I should start a series called Keeping Up with Ntswaki (or Tess—take your pick. I write as Ntswaki, but otherwise, I’m Tess). I could keep you all updated on my chaotic life instead of starting blogs like this. What do you think?

Right, let’s get into it, shall we? And yes, read that in a British accent, please.

So, I’ve been sitting with this thought for a while, debating whether I even wanted to say it out loud. Mainly because I’ve realized some people—whether it’s from my blogs, statuses, or random musings—like to make shoes fit when they were never even in the store. People have reached a level of internalizing generalizations that’s honestly wild.

Let me make this clear: I am... not thinking about you like that. At least, not to the point where I’m throwing subliminals in my posts. If I’m talking about someone, even indirectly, trust me—they know it’s about them.

That said, I’ve been hearing things about myself that just aren’t true. Naturally, I’m confused because I’m not out here living a life of mystery. I’m not a confrontational person by nature, but I hate when someone speaks on my name with lies. Especially if we’re close or related and you have an open line of communication with me.

One thing about me—one thing everyone close to me knows—I cannot stand lies.

Yoh. Yoh. Yohhhh.

Do not lie to me. Especially if you have no reason to. And don’t lie about me. Because on what grounds are you even doing that? Don’t bore me.

Which brings me to my main question: What is an adult, really?

As a concept, sure, it works. But in reality? Age is just a number because grown people acting grown is apparently an endangered trait.

For example, last year I was told to “be the bigger person” when I had an issue with my adoptive mother. And I’m like… but why? Why am I expected to be the bigger person when the older one in this parent-child dynamic should already be the adult? It’s a recurring thing in African culture—children being told to maintain the relationship, to do the work, to respect elders even when there’s nothing to respect about their actions or how they treat people.

Let me be clear: I’m one of those people who believe respect is earned. It’s a two-way street. If you think you can treat me any kind of way because you feel it’s your turn to perpetuate the cycles you once complained about… Tuh.

Good luck, Charlie.

But I digress. My point is there’s an overwhelming amount of emotional immaturity in people I wouldn’t expect it from. If you’re ten, fifteen, or twenty years older than me and have an issue with me but are waiting for me to bring it up? It’s not happening. You’re too old for that. I want better for you.

There was a time when I’d chase after people who didn’t like me, asking what I did wrong, trying to fix it. But I’ve laid that sword down. That war is over.

I can’t make you love me. I can’t make you like me. And that’s fine. If we don’t gel, we don’t gel.

I didn’t realize I had people-pleasing tendencies until I saw how desperate I was to be liked. That’s the little girl in me, craving validation, guarded by the angry teenager in me who’s tired of rejection. But this year, I finally accepted that I have no business overestimating my role in people’s lives.

I’ve mourned so many relationships because I thought I’d done something wrong, but when I stopped reaching out, the silence told me everything I needed to know. I was out here talking to myself in those chats. It gets embarrassing. Turns out, the success of many of those relationships was based on my effort alone. Without it, I wasn’t much more than a convenience—a fair-weather friend. Someone to call when they needed something.

I didn’t mean to get all emotional, but pregnancy rewired my brain in ways I wasn’t ready for. Now, I cry when I’m sad—can you believe it? 

Here’s the thing: I don’t think I’ve got it all figured out. I once read a quote somewhere that said we never stop growing, we never stop learning. Basically, there’s no point in adulthood where you reach the final level and stop evolving. I know that. But I also know not everyone does. Not everyone wants to do that work.

And honestly? How people live their lives is their business. Whether it’s to their own detriment or not, it’s not my place to intervene and decide what’s wrong or right. Unless you’re infringing on basic human rights—then we’ve got a problem. I'll end with this: at what point is giving grace enough? The argument that “it’s so-and-so’s first time living” or “they tried their best” is tired. Because guess what? It’s my first time living this life too. It’s my first time on this planet too. 

So what now?