When Did I Grow Up?

Experience counts more than the reading of many books. Some of the things learned gets into basic life assumptions, affecting a person for the rest of his/her life, unless examined closely. They are the graffiti on life’s wall.

I grew up:

When I watched the butterflies and knew I was happy, at age 5.
When I gave 35 cents to my Dad, thinking it would help with the bills, at age six, which he appreciated but clearly it was not my place to do that, then.
When I watched the neighbors slaughter their hog and cow or chickens, age seven or eight, and I understood that life eats life.
When a man groped me at age 11, so I took care that wouldn’t happen again.
When being smart in school put the boys to shame, which was against some rules I did not understand then, at age 12. I chose to be competitive anyway.
When silly high school girls around were miserable over some stupid boy and I refused to sympathize or be miserable with them over some stupid boy. I chose to be happy.
When my Father died, making me my own boss at 21.
When my first child was born, and I knew he was another whole person.
When I had no friends at age 32, that I had a problem with being judgmental!
When I clearly understood the effects of addiction, that my husband was addicted and it had colored everything. My strengths were feeding his weaknesses.
When my mother died, making me the family matriarch, although I was only 52, and that it was an important position of authority and responsibility to the end.

“Growing up” is not really about how old you are, but what you’ve learned, decided, and acted upon. Some people never ‘grow up’ in that sense. They want someone to still parent them.





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