Oh, Grow Up. (I'm Talking To Myself.)
On personal authority, permanent adolescence, and the inconvenient timing of finally getting your act together
If you're also only just now figuring out what growing up actually means, you're in good company.
I said “oh, grow up, for f*ck’s sake” to my eighteen year old the other day. One of those parenting moments where you drop the nice mom act and hope a blunt phrase will magically transform your teenager into a functional adult.
Spoiler: it doesn’t work.
I was also, secretly, saying it to myself.
The Uncomfortable Truth
It’s weird to realize you’re only beginning to actually grow up at 48, almost 49, when you assumed it would happen around 30. But I think this is genuinely when most people finally start to get their act together.
Some don’t.
A lot more than I realized don’t.
It’s depressing as hell.
Look around. So many people just let greed, ego, and dopamine hits run their entire existence. I’m not talking about politics. I’m talking about actual humans everywhere, including some of my own friends, stuck in permanent adolescence with zero signs of evolution.
And it means I have to let them go.
I’m trying not to be dramatic about this. I’m failing. Being dramatic is literally my job description. I’m a musical theater actress. I see life in this heightened way where normal conversations should probably burst into song at any moment. To some people that’s annoying. To others it’s magical. I have made my peace with this.
What Growing Up Actually Requires
At 49 I feel this pull toward real ownership of myself in ways I’ve been quietly avoiding. Personal authority. The actual grown up kind. The kind where you stop letting other people’s opinions run the whole operation.
My grown up self knows what I’m here to do. Take everyday experiences of growth and self-discovery and turn them into art through dialogue, song, and people dancing their feelings. That’s it. That’s the whole thing.
But my inner child, worrier, fame monster keeps trying to pull me back. Make me smaller. More timid. Obsessed with what everyone thinks. I have to remind myself constantly to choose growth over stagnation.
So if I actually commit to being the author of my own life, what do I let go of? Do I reclaim the rights to my show sitting in a publisher’s catalog? Do I leave my acting union that limits me more than it helps, even though it gives me industry credibility? Complicated.
Life is just a series of experiments and pivots while you fumble toward yourself.
At 49 I’ve finally grasped something that should have been obvious years ago: this is my one precious life. And I’m about to shrink it because of what YOU think? What my kids think? What car I drive? What people who have never once taken a single risk think of me?
No thanks.
I’ve decided to grow up.
It’s not ideal timing, given that the world is basically on fire.
But we need more grown ups.
Obviously.
Substack runs on ♥️’s. Did you know that something like 99% of people never click it? So if this landed for you, be the 1%. Hit the heart. Share it with a human you like. Or subscribe and never miss a post. It genuinely helps more people find this little corner of the internet. I’ll be here either way.
The less “years” you have ahead of you (rather THINK you have) the more precious each moment becomes. And the less shit you are willing to deal with from others. Your sense of what’s REALLY important is a lot smaller, and a lot more focused. ❤️ Love your writing.