Maturity is a weird concept.
I suppose I always thought that I would hit a certain point and I would just be mature. People who knew me would be like “who her, yeah she is a complete and total adult, nothing childlike about her”.
That’s the thing though; maturity isn’t something that happens over night. It’s one of those hard-earned gifts that we get over time and experience. Yet I feel like I should be more responsible, more grown up than I actually am. Perhaps I naively thought that as soon as I turned thirty I would shed all the bad decision making of my twenties, and step into a more settled down version of myself.
Who knows, maybe I am more mature than I was this time last year. And I know that I have a greater insight into myself than I ever had. I guess the changes, the maturity, the growth; it’s all just very incremental. It didn’t happen in one big swoop as I thought it would, but rather it has been slowly creeping up on me.
That’s harder to see though isn’t it?
Perhaps maturity is not instantly being able to make the right decisions all the time. Perhaps it’s the ability to stop making the really stupid ones a little less.
At least that’s what I am going in order to sleep at night.
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