Working Wives & Bachelorettes: The End of Innocence

There are many instances in life that make you feel as though you have finally grown up. When you are young, you think it is a number—18 or 21. Once you have passed that milestone, you assume it is your first job or first apartment. As time goes on, you think once you are married or when you have children. Those instances come and go and you still find situations where you are undeveloped and not so grown up. And truth be told, you’ve spent the last 10-20 years trying so hard to be an adult that once you finally get close, you don’t want it so badly. Your mother warned you this day would come. Dammit!

I grew up in a small northeastern town. I walked every day to my small high school where everyone knew everyone. I couldn’t wait to get out and grow up! My escape was Penn State. When I finally landed there, I felt at home. It was so comfortable. I had some friends from high school there. It was close to home. Whenever I needed money, mom and dad weren't far away. We walked everywhere. It was similar enough to my hometown, but grown up enough for me to call it my own. It was safe. And even though it was large, it was so familiar and comfortable. This beautiful place I got to call my own for four years. Happy Valley was truly happy.

By the end of four years, I was ready to get out. I had gotten from the town and institution what I needed. Some great friends, a wonderful education and memories. Amazing memories. It’s funny that as memories wear on, they change and morph into something they may never have truly been. I didn’t always get along with my roommates. I didn’t always do my best. I made some stupid mistakes, but if you ask me, it was all great. I love that place. What it stood for. What it made me into.

I remember when my boys were babies (only 21 months apart in age). My life was a blur. Everyone said to cherish it, love every minute because it would be over. I couldn’t wait for the teething and tantrums to end. Now that my children are growing up, I truly do miss that. My memories seem to show themselves through rose-colored lenses—something they probably weren’t but I can’t go back, so I remember it as I wish maybe it would have been.

As a child, most of us have this romantic version of our parents. Mom is the prettiest lady. Dad, the smartest man. The same holds true for teachers, mentors, coaches. They are almost super heroes, super human. I’ve felt like this about most of the influential adults in my life. The ones who set such a stellar example that I chose my college major because of them, questioned my own decisions based on their past influences, remembered guiding words and notable encounters. When someone like that falls, it breaks you.

This entire situation with Penn State has me confused, upset, bewildered. I’ve lost faith in a lot of things, lost trust and question judgment. I so want to believe that people do the right thing for the right reasons and the wrong things are usually a mistake, but the truth is humans are humans. Some are good, some are not. Some make good choices, some do not. We are all guided by the same moral code and we either abide by it or disregard it.

The realizations of adulthood. The taking off of those rose-colored glasses and seeing things for what they truly are is tough, but it is a part of growing up and it still sucks. At 33, I’m still not grown up. I’m not sure I’m ever gonna get there. And how it feels sometimes, I’m not sure I ever really want to.

~ Kel