What is Maturity?

Where are all the adults in the room? That is a question currently being asked on both sides of the aisle politically and in many situations in everyday life. Why has this become an issue?

I currently contribute to a "male mentorship" group that does its best to navigate this challenging atmosphere of the most effective way to be masculine in modern society. A question came around that I never realized how important it was until it was asked:

"Although this is relative, at what point in your life did you firmly believe that you have matured as a person? And what changed that? Was it travel? Reaching goals? X amount of relationships? Career advancement? I'm hitting 34 soon but I feel like I'm still 25 at heart."

I found this to be an incredibly interesting question, notably because it is a very nuanced answer. In today's American society, there is no "initiation" or "ceremony" when you irrefutably become "mature." I also do not believe that this is something that pointedly happens; I think this is a steady shift over time. But what is maturity? How do you know you have achieved an adequate level of maturity? Though I am most certainly not the final say on what it is to be mature, as someone who feels they have grown in this area, I will try to provide insight on what this felt like with my experiences.

The thought of leaving college frightened me. On the campus of UMass Amherst in the mid-2000's I was consistently told — "these will be the best times of your life, do not take them for granted." My college years were a fantastic time, but what happens when they are over? Am I supposed to just accept that the rest of my life in terms of experiences are to be on a downward trajectory? That is tough to tell a kid at 21 as most of his life is ahead of him, not behind.

I graduated with a degree in Computer Science, but in reality, leaving school, I was depressed. I bought into the idea that my life's best days were behind me, and from this point forward was thrust into this boring, monotonous "adulthood." In time, I tried to rebel against this idea, refusing to accept this claimed inevitability. To start, I was lost. I had no concept of what it meant to become an adult. I had no clue what kind of man I wanted to be.

I then spent most of my 20s on an endless search of what it meant to be happy. What was a satisfying and gratifying life? How were those achievable? This search brought me to many places worldwide, viewing and integrating with many cultures and unique ways of thinking. It also brought me through many books as I tried to untangle my own personal development. During this time, I remember vividly soaking everything up like a sponge. I found many mentors from around the globe and was always anxious to hear their next insight. If I had to sum up this period, I would say it was my time of exploration. I was truly and utterly exploring all that I could to try and understand what it was that was meant for me.

As I forayed into my 30s, especially looking back on it now, there was a slow and steady shift out of this "exploration" phase. There was not necessarily one particular catalyst, but more of an ever-growing desire to contribute rather than the continual excitement of exploration. What changed?

I believe this steady shift occurred because of my growing confidence in myself. As experience and knowledge pile up, there eventually comes a time when you are knowledgeable enough to be capable of being in the conversation. I remember going from listening to my mentors' podcasts and ingesting all ideas with the fervor of an eager child, to, more often than not, being annoyed that I could not challenge them on some of their views. I felt capable of being in the debates rather than sitting on the sidelines.

I remember hearing this quote from Jordan Peterson:

"Aim to be the person at your father's funeral that everyone, in their grief and misery, can rely on."

This concept struck me as a perfect overarching paradigm to this abstract shift toward the ever ambiguous "maturity." Though you can replace "father" with anyone you see as an influential role model, the sentiment is clear.

In my early 20s, this idea frightened me. How could I ever be okay when the person, who has been so influential in forming who I am, leaves me? However, it's more than that, you not only have to be okay, but you have to be composed enough so that every devastated loved one around you can feel that everything will eventually be okay too.

Gradually over time, I remember as my independence and confidence in myself grew, there was something about this idea that did not intimidate me as much. When an unexpected tragedy did occur, a family member diagnosed with cancer, I remember obviously feeling sad, but recall feeling that was not going to help anything. Though at the time I did grieve and thank god they are currently okay, I remember allowing myself to still feel "in control" of the situation. In control, for everyone else, so they did not have to be. I wanted to be strong for them. This was when I realized I had become that person that intimidated me previously. Not only is that person myself, but I can't envision another in that role as I am the best fit for it.

This is how I now view "maturity." Though continual growth, life experiences, and personal development are inevitable and should be encouraged, I am totally in control of my life. I am in control of my career, emotions, relationships, and health — anything that I can control I generally feel in control of. There is now much less need to "explore" as I know who I am and how I would like to affect the world. Everything that I have "soaked up" will now contribute to all that I will do.

Maturity is not a list to check off, nor is it a destination to arrive at. It is a state of mind and a way to approach life. I will be that person everyone can rely on at my father's funeral. I will be the one to make a difference. I will not sit on the sidelines and let life pass by without a say. We, too often in today's climate, want to shy away from leadership or responsibility for the fear that it is too difficult. We also often want to blame others for why life is not working out a certain way. We regularly wish others would solve our problems for us. Though there are undoubtedly some differences in starting points, the acceptance of personal responsibility in your life for the way it turns out is the ultimate sign of maturity.

In my opinion, that is why "adults" seem to be missing. A whole generation views personal responsibility as something to avoid; that other's will "handle" or "solve" the problems for us. The issue there is real change only happens in your life when you are the one responsible for addressing it. Real change only occurs for a society when critical thinking, mature adults can come together and solve problems. Only once you are firmly in control of your life should you ever consider addressing more significant, worldly issues. How can you expect to create positive change in the world when you cannot even do that for yourself? This starts small, but as we grow, we need to be seeking out responsibility and subsequent leadership opportunities once we are capable, not shying away from them. Bit by bit as the responsibility we take on grows in scope; our confidence will rise, expanding the next levels we can then reach. This happens to everyone in their own time, but eventually, no one should sit on the sidelines. We need to be ready when our name is called.

I no longer view "adulthood" as this monotonous, tedious experience that I must go through. I am now eager to be this way because that is how I can make a difference as I am capable. So, where are all the adults in the room? They are in each one of us as soon as we realize we are able.