This Is What Growing Up Really Looks Like

You wake up one day and realize you’re the adult now. And yet, nobody hands you a manual on how to be a grown-up. You’re just expected to figure it out as you go.

One day you’re choosing between snacks, and the next you’re comparing interest rates, navigating breakups, or trying to decide if that feeling in your chest is burnout or just indigestion. All of the sudden, you are that person. You have a calendar and a tax folder. You remember people’s birthdays. You make dinner while your laundry runs.

You’re technically doing it. But there’s this hum in the background that sounds a lot like: Am I doing it right? And it’s not that you’re doing it wrong. It’s that no one told you the truth: being an adult doesn’t mean you stop feeling lost. It just means you learn how to live inside the questions a little better.

So this is an essay for the you who’s doing your best. Who’s building a life while quietly questioning it. Who’s feeling too much or nothing at all. Who’s still figuring it out.

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The inheritance we didn’t ask for

Growing up comes with bills and responsibilities, yes. But also emotional baggage. Expectations. Assumptions. Generational narratives. Quiet stories we inherited without consent.

You might carry your older sibling’s fear of rest. Your classmate’s definition of success. Your culture’s idea of what it means to be “on track.” These quiet inheritances become rules you follow until one day, you realize: none of this actually fits.

You’re replaying old stories about success, love, or worthiness that someone else wrote. And you don’t even like the plot. It’s time to question the script.

Who told you you had to have it figured out by 30?
Who told you stability meant being exhausted all the time?
Who said your value came from how productive or likable you were?

Write down all the roles you’ve been playing lately (friend, fixer, overachiever, peacekeeper). Ask yourself: Do I want this? Does this bring me closer to the kind of life I actually want?

You’re not selfish for letting something go. You’re wise.

The grief of growing

Growing up, the real kind, often begins with grief, but no one teaches you how to mourn the life you thought you’d have. The dream that didn’t happen. The relationship that felt like forever. The version of you that seemed so sure.

We just get told to move on. But grief doesn’t vanish because we’re “supposed” to be over it. It sits quietly in our routines, in the songs we skip, in the way we hesitate to want something new again. Let yourself feel the loss. And then let yourself imagine again.

Think of a version of yourself you’ve outgrown. Thank them. Tell them what you’re choosing now. Let them go with love. Let yourself feel the loss. That’s the beginning of making space for something new.

The kid inside you isn’t gone

The world told us growing up meant becoming serious. Responsible. Logical. But what if the most grown-up thing you could do was remember who you were before the world told you who to be?

The part of you who made art just because. Who believed in magic. Who danced without needing choreography.

That kid inside you? Still here. Still full of wonder, curiosity, and deep instincts about what feels true.

Try this: Do something this week just for play. Something you used to love. Something that doesn’t need to be good or useful. And don’t forget to ask your inner kid what they need. Seriously. You’ll be surprised what they say.

The Sappy Medium

Most of us are swinging between two extremes: feeling everything or feeling nothing. That middle space, the sappy medium, is where emotional steadiness lives.

Feeling too much? You spiral, overanalyze, wear yourself out.
Feeling nothing? You shut down, go numb, disconnect.

The goal isn’t to fix either. It’s to build a middle ground where feelings are safe, not scary. Where you can name what’s real, without letting it drown you.

Sappy Medium: The Rough Draft book by JB Copeland is a collection of short writings, letters, and honest thoughts about growing through what you go through. It's the story of learning how to feel again and how to heal in the mess. If you’re stuck between feeling too much and not enough, this book is for you.

How to grow up, the Rough Draft guide

Let’s be honest: growing up is weird. There is no check list or final exam. You just stumble through and hope for the best. But maybe it’s less about being fully formed and more about forming yourself, on purpose?

Here's how:

• Ask better questions. Instead of “What should I do with my life?” try “What feels true for me right now?”
• Feel your feelings. Not everything needs to be fixed. Some things just need to be felt.
• Let go of timelines. Milestones don’t measure your worth.
• Say no more often. Not as a rebellion—but as a way to say yes to your real self.
• Make room for joy. Schedule it. Protect it. Laugh for no reason.
• Keep the kid alive. Dance, daydream, doodle. That’s not immaturity—it’s magic.

You don’t become a grown-up by shutting down who you were. You grow up by integrating every version of you, including the one who still needs wonder and softness to survive.

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I have a question for you. Have you ever looked at your family and seen the real them? Not the role, like mom, dad, grandma, caretaker, but the human. The kid inside the adult suit, still figuring it out, just like you. It’s a disorienting moment and a clarifying one. Because it reminds you that no one really has it all figured out. We’re all just doing our best with what we’ve got.

So, this is what growing up really looks like:

You stop chasing the version of success that exhausts you and start creating one that fits. You forgive yourself for not knowing sooner. You stop waiting for the “real version” of your life to begin and realize it already has.

Some days, you’ll feel like a kid in adult clothes. Some days, like an ancient soul in a grocery store. But every day, you get to meet yourself again: with honesty, with curiosity, with a willingness to keep revising that rough draft.

If you feel like you’re late to your own life, remember this:

• You’re not too behind. Everyone’s faking it a little. Everyone’s winging it.
• You’re not too messy. Feelings don’t make you weak. They make you aware.
• You’re not too much. The world told you to shrink, but you’re here to take up space.

Keep showing up. Keep writing. Keep becoming.