Rules were the killer of my younger self. That is, my life was driven by rules. That I couldn’t cross the line. That I couldn’t go to the bathroom when I wanted to go. That I couldn’t just eat dessert for dinner.
When given freedom in college, I was shocked by all the freedom. That I didn’t have to go to class. That I didn’t have to eat greenery. That I could actually go to the bathroom during class (and not get scolded)! That I could sleep in, eat whatever I wanted, and let my room degrade into messiness.
And yet. Perhaps that’s the bane of being an adult. The rules that I learned as a child were made for an ideal, organized life. And if I wanted to live a healthy life, I know how to do so. And yet what about those people who don’t even have that kind of knowledge—that their entire life has been filled with filth, unhealthy food, and general bad habits.
Are they adult? But perhaps in better terms, they never knew better. That it’s okay to flake on someone. That it’s okay to cross the light when it’s not green. That it’s okay to live among dirty takeout containers. That it’s okay to eat unhealthy food all the time.
I always relish being an adult. To have the power to make choices. At least in the world where I live (with privilege). If there’s something I paid for, I can just demand my money back and walk away. If there’s something that i don’t like, I can say so.
But what about those who don’t have that privilege?