Adults Will Sort It Out

 Let's get two things straight:

Firstly, I'm a privileged young white citizen of the European Union who has never had to deal with 'real life problems'. Yes, I've had a few episodes where my mental health issues have got a bit out of hand, but otherwise I'm fine. I have friends, I get on well with my family, we're comfortable with money, I have the opportunity to study what I want and I've never had anyone really close to me die.

And secondly, I am not an adult. Hang on, let me explain. I technically and formally am a citizen of age in most countries, I am turning twenty-one this year afterall. I've voted several times and I may be physically developed, so biologically (although my flat chest begs to differ) I'm an adult too. But for good karma's sake, I. Am. NOT. An. Adult. I have no idea how to pay my taxes, if I have a problem with the bank, my computer, a leak in the bathroom or any kind of paperwork (or if there's a big scary spider on the wall, to be honest) I call my dad. If I have health issues, I call my mum to tell me what to do, which doctors to go to, etc.

Last year, in my law course, we learnt that when you become a parent, you become legally emancipated in a way, which means that you can take out loans etc. without your parents' permission even if you're underage. I was twenty at the time and I thought to myself, jokingly of course, that I should have a child so that I could buy a flat (no bank in its right mind would give me a loan, of course).

My dad once told me that even adults fake their way through life, they pretend to know what they're doing. Good for them, as long as they're helping me (not an adult), I don't mind.

All my life I've had the feeling that adults will sort it out. I still do. When my great-grandma had a stroke, my dad, red-eyed called me and my sister - I was six and my sister nine at the time - to the kitchen to tell us that his grandma is in the hospital and it's not looking well. My sister, always emotional, burst out crying. I said: "okay". Because I was just sure that the adults would sort it out. I mean, nothing had gone so wrong in the six years of my life that adults couldn't fix it. When my great-grandmother died a few days later, I was shocked. I should have learnt my lesson then. Spoiler: I didn't.

A few years later, when I was about twelve, my sister and I found a baby bird with a broken wing, flapping around in pain. We fed it, named it Tweety and took it to the vet who specialised in birds. The vet told us she would examine Tweety, but it didn't look good. My sister burst out crying. I said: "It's going to be OK," and I really meant it because adults always sort things out. We returned about an hour later and were told that the bird had to be put down as it was the most humane thing to do. I was shocked and couldn't stop crying. I should have learnt my lesson by then. Spoiler: I didn't.

Fast forward a few years. I was sixteen and my dad had just told us - me and my sister again - that he might lose his job. My sister - you guessed it - burst out crying. I said: "OK, but I'm sure you'll find a way". When my dad told me about a month later that he had lost his job, I was speechless. How could this happen out of the blue? Weren't adults supposed to sort things out? You'd think I'd learnt my lesson this time, wouldn't you? Spoiler: I didn't.

And finally, when we took our cat to the vet yesterday, I was sure he'd be fine. And even when they called to tell us he needed an operation and there was a chance he might die, I didn't cry. I didn't think for a minute that he would have to be put down. I said: "OK, open him up and see what's wrong. He'll be fine". Fortunately he is fine, still a bit drugged from the anaesthetic but recovering well. But I feel like I'm taking it for granted, like it's normal for adults to sort things out.