Being an adult scares the shit out of me. I can’t stop it either, which makes it worse. The word “grown” is tossed around like a salad at Sweetgreen and quite frankly, I’m fucking sick of it. Trust me, you don’t want to rush growing up because once you’re there, you can’t leave. You can’t turn off life.

There was nothing sexy, glamorous or attractive about the road I’m paving into adulthood, but shit is getting done and that’s what’s important. After graduating in December 2016, I had not a single job, fellowship, apprenticeship or McDonalds offer. I was too experience for entry level and not experienced enough for a junior level.

My journey into adulthood officially started in March 2017 when I made a life-changing deal with my mother about finding a job back home in New York. With no money and no plan, I waged my then-living situation in North Carolina exchange for moving to New York to live with my grandma as a result of finding a job in a week. I made every call, sent every email and prayed every prayer I could because I knew in my spirit that Durham was not for me. Fast forward a week later, I was offered my first job as an assistant…

Lesson Learned: Know your worth, then add tax.

How I Learned: I knew I was being taken advantage of as a personal assistant and wasn’t gaining anything from working long hours and not even being compensated for lunch or a MetroCard. After quitting my first job, I realized that it’s okay to speak up about what you deserve and it’s okay to walk away from any situation that will not help you get to where you’re going in any aspect of life. Deuces, nigga.

During this time I was struggling to make ends meet at my job as a Payless assistant, I was living with my grandmother who had a terrible case of bed bugs. I was embarrassed, mortified, disgusted, all of the above…

Lesson Learned: Don’t cry over spilled milk. Grab some paper towels, throw your shirt in the wash, and be more careful next time.

How I Learned: When I got bed bugs, the first thing I did was call my parents. My mom all the way in North Carolina and my dad all the way in Virginia. I cried, I weeped, all of that. Hundreds of miles away without any type of communication between the two managed to tell me the exact same thing – pick up your shit and change the situation. With that in mind, I knew the bedbugs couldn’t be taken care of overnight, but I could change my situation. My cousins thankfully took me in, I had to spend my final $200 on a few clothes from the Rainbow up the block and still manage to get up and smile every single day because I knew each one would be better than the next.

My mother had funded me the money to get myself a new bed, and we had split the cost for new furniture. While I was staying at my grandmother’s house, I was able to realize that some situations are out of your control, but you can control how you control the situation. Luckily, I thought I had a “man” to support me through all of this…

Lesson Learned: A nigga’s only going to do what you allow.

How I Learned: During all of this, I was in a “situationship” with a young man who shall not be named for the purpose of respect and privacy. He and I were going back and forth about the pros and cons of being in an official relationship and I found myself in a position compromising what I want and what I deserved. We hung out, we had relations, I met his friends and this went on for about a good year and some change, but yet and still I was the “shorty” or the “mami”. Like Brittany Snow said in John Tucker Must Die, he was always about an unspoken bond, but never a relationship.

I had come to the realization that my “man” was not my boyfriend, but I was doing stuff for him as though he was my husband. I was complacent and all I wanted was him, but that was the problem. All I wanted was HIM – not a relationship, not commitment, just him. Sorry, Ashanti, but I’m not satisfied even if he’s not just mine. That’s for the birds, sis. I never really stood up for myself in the relationship and everytime I would break up with him, I would crawl back to him because all I wanted was him and said fuck a title. I knew I was worth being more than wifey or shorty or bae. Nah, son, call me “Shonda,” or “your girlfriend”. Either of those will do just fine, or don’t call me at all.

Please keep in mind that this was all happening during just the first six months of my time back in Brooklyn, but I wanted to be completely transparent about these small little tidbits of bullshit that I experienced during my first half of a year as a 21-year-old. Being grown isn’t about staying out as late as you want or being with the perfect man, it’s about grinding i the fuck out when things get tough and knowing what you deserve.