Here’s a quote from celebrated author Margaret Atwood that many writers and creative types can probably relate to:
“I believe that everyone my age is an adult, whereas I am merely in disguise.”
After all, does being grown up mean being responsible, taking charge, and forgetting all that childish stuff like dunking our cookies in our milk, cuddling up with a blankie for an afternoon nap, letting someone we love cuddle us and reassure us that everything will be all right when it looks like everything is all wrong?
No longer feeling that we can occasionally let someone else take charge of everything when we feel we just can’t anymore?
How about that childish thing of being happy, just because?
And playing with imaginary friends, wouldn’t that be the death of fun? How could we write, or paint, or create when we must be practical and sensible? Being an adult in the accepted sense of the word surely prevents us from experimenting with art, with words, with story telling – with life.
I’m not saying that we just stop being adult, stop doing all the things that we should do as grown ups, like cleaning the toilet and cooking supper (not at the same time!), showing up for work on time, or being there for friends and loved ones in need.
Or all the myriad things that grownups are supposed to do. The valuable things. Life has to go on and somebody has to do the grocery shopping, right?
But let’s keep the fun, the experimentation, the what if?, the occasional goofing off, in our lives.
Our loved ones, our friends, our creative work, and our inner selves will thank us for it.