I have spent a lot of my adult life half-expecting that hand on the shoulder and a wise and venerable voice telling me, 'We've got it from here.'
I mean... I'm not an adult. The fact that I turn 39 this year, am married with a mortgage, two kids and a job is by-the-by. I don't feel like my mind has fully evolved into adultness - whatever that actually is!
The proper grown-ups know what to do. They keep calm in a crisis. They have the answers. They don't spend most of their days in swirly whirlpool mode trying not to show that they haven't got a scooby about anything.
Lockdown has made me feel this sensation even more. Soon, someone is going to come along with a broom and sweep it all up, give us a brisk telling off and ask us what we have learnt. Right?
One of the biggest hurdles in overcoming the concept that you are the grown-up in this or any scenario is the realisation that you are the wise and venerable voice. At least you are to your children, possibly your husband, maybe some of your friends and more than likely a few people at work. They are looking to you to tell them that everything is alright.
I struggle with questions I can't answer. For example what is your favourite book is a mind blank, mouth open, heart pounding answer stopper because I haven't read all the books yet so how can I possibly tell you what my favourite is? And yes I realise the impossibility of that statement but it's how I feel when you ask me those kinds of questions.
So I can't tell you with any degree of certainty that everything is going to be alright and it scares the wotsits out of me. And covering that up convincingly seems to be what being an adult is all about.
Claire Buss is a multi-genre author and poet, completely addicted to cake. Find all her books on Amazon. Join the discussion in her Facebook group Buss's Book Stop.
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