There seems to be a general lack of consensus about what generation I belong to. As far as I can tell I am technically a Millennial, but I fall right around this gray borderland where it’s not quite clear.
And maybe it’s just the way my brain works, or maybe it’s a byproduct of being in that weird borderland, but I find myself both defending and disparaging Millennials. As is true for any generalizations of any generation, there are trends of flaws and trends of strengths. It’s not all one or the other.
But there is one oft repeated phrase that I only hear Millennials use that I cannot handle. I mean, I honestly cannot stand it. (Ok, there is more than one. But this is just a single post).
Adulting is hard. Or worse yet, #adultingishard.
Just typing it makes my brain want to explode.
Part of it is what feels like a total butchering of a language I love. But even more than that, I usually see it applied to things like doing laundry, cleaning bathrooms, or showing up to work on time. And yes, in all honesty, these tasks can be overwhelming and challenging. I can’t pretend that the sheer volume and constancy of laundry in my home doesn’t raise my blood pressure on a weekly basis.
But I think that what truly bothers me is that I have seen so closely how hard life really can be, and the flippant hashtagging just doesn’t sit well with me.
I realize that this is a bit of an overreaction, but those are kind of my specialty.
I have sat with people walking through the deepest, darkest griefs. I have heard people working to process through and try and make sense of things that are truly awful and senseless. I’ve watched people wrestle through the hardest, most impossible decisions.
I’ve heard enough trauma, loss, pain, and anger to have seen that life really, truly is hard. I’ve seen it in the lives of my clients, my friends, my family. I’ve seen it in my own life. Life really, truly is hard.
Once upon a time I believed that once we got past this particular struggle, whatever struggle it was, the hard part would be over and life would feel easy. Don’t get me wrong, there are some seasons of ease. But overall, I’ve seen that lots of life is hard, and most days have at least some degree of challenge to them.
This doesn’t sound very uplifting, does it? But here’s the thing. Life isn’t all good, but it isn’t all bad either. There is beauty, there is goodness, and there is hope, even in the midst of the hardest and heaviest seasons
And once we stop feeling the pressure to “get through,” the struggle, we can see all that there really is in the season. Once we stop believing everything has to be perfect for it to be good, we can celebrate the beauty that lives right there with the struggle. Once we acknowledge and accept that life is hard, we can see that it is more than just hard. And once we accept that it’s hard, not just for us but for everybody, we can release our expectations that it be any different. And we can live with a whole lot more compassion and grace for ourselves and each other.
So yes, adulting is hard. Not flippantly or dismissively hard, but really truly hard. Not hard like unloading the dishwasher, but hard like facing pain and loss and unwanted change. And it doesn’t ever stop being hard.
And. And. And.
Life is also full of joy and hope and beauty and goodness. And once we allow ourselves to acknowledge the first, we can be so much more fully alive to the second.