Sable Monroe

Extended Adolescence Is for the Fortunate

There is a version of young adulthood that sounds wonderful.

You turn eighteen.

Maybe you go to college.

You don’t know exactly what you want to do yet.

You change your major twice.

You work some bullshit job.

You spend too much money.

You move back home for a while.

Your parents complain that you need to get your shit together, but there’s still food in the refrigerator.

Your old bedroom is still there.

If your car breaks down, somebody might help you.

If you don’t understand health insurance, somebody explains it.

If you’re short on your security deposit, somebody might float you a few hundred dollars.

You are technically an adult, but you are still becoming one.

That’s extended adolescence.

And I have some unfortunate news for some of you.

That shit is for fortunate people.

If you are growing up in an abusive, controlling, chaotic or otherwise dysfunctional household and you already know that getting out is going to be necessary for your survival, you may not have the luxury of waiting until eighteen to start learning how adulthood works.

You shouldn’t have to become an adult at thirteen.

But thirteen may be when you need to start studying adulthood.

There is a difference.

Eighteen Cannot Be the Day You Start Learning

If eighteen is the day you plan to leave, eighteen cannot also be the day you first ask:

How do I open a bank account?

What is credit?

What documents do I need?

How much does an apartment cost?

What is a security deposit?

How do taxes work?

What happens when I get a paycheck?

How do I get health insurance?

How much does food actually cost?

How do utilities work?

What does a lease mean?

What do I need to get a job?

How do I get around if I don’t have a car?

How much money do I need before I leave?

You don’t need to know everything.

Nobody knows everything.

I’m almost fifty and adulthood still occasionally sends me some bullshit I’ve never seen before.

But if you know you’re going to be largely responsible for yourself at eighteen, you cannot afford to meet adulthood for the first time at eighteen.

Other people might be able to.

They have backup.

You may not.

Some People Get to Learn Adulthood With Training Wheels

This is something we don’t talk about enough when we compare young adults.

Two eighteen-year-olds can technically be the same age while standing at completely different starting lines.

One has parents who say:

Stay here while you save.

We’ll teach you how credit works.

We’ll help you buy your first car.

You’re still on our insurance.

Come home during college breaks.

We’ll help you with your FAFSA.

Don’t worry about groceries this month.

The other eighteen-year-old may be leaving a house where the adults are controlling their money, interfering with their education, sabotaging relationships, withholding documents, threatening to throw them out, monitoring their movements or telling them they’ll never survive without the family.

We’ll cosign the apartment.

You fucked up? Okay. Let’s figure it out.

Those two young adults do not have the same runway.

One is learning to fly with somebody standing underneath them.

The other one may have to jump.

Dysfunctional Families Charge a Delay Tax

This is what I call the delay tax.

Every additional year you remain dependent on a dysfunctional household can potentially cost you something.

Maybe you couldn’t take a better job because somebody controlled your transportation.

Maybe you couldn’t save because somebody expected access to your money.

Maybe you couldn’t concentrate in school because there was always some fucking crisis happening.

Maybe you couldn’t build normal friendships because your movements were monitored.

Maybe you couldn’t date without interrogation, sabotage or humiliation.

Maybe nobody taught you financial skills because keeping you dependent made you easier to control.

Maybe you spent so much energy surviving the household that you had very little left for building a future.

Then you finally leave.

And now you have to learn everything while exhausted.

That’s the delay tax.

You don’t just lose time.

Sometimes you lose money.

Opportunities.

Education.

Confidence.

Relationships.

Work experience.

Financial progress.

Years you could have spent building something.

That doesn’t mean everybody should run out the door the second they turn eighteen.

It means remaining dependent has a price too, and that price deserves to be included when you’re calculating what staying is costing you.

I Started Preparing Long Before I Left

I knew young that I wanted out.

I started thinking about leaving when I was around twelve.

By the time I was sixteen, I stopped telling myself I had two years left.

Two years sounded like forever.

I told myself:

Twenty-four months.

Then I started subtracting.

Twenty-three.

Twenty-two.

Twenty-one.

It gave the situation an end.

I wasn’t just enduring childhood indefinitely.

I was serving time toward a release date.

I left at eighteen.

Was I perfectly prepared?

Hell no.

There were things I didn’t know.

There were things I couldn’t solve.

My immigration situation wasn’t even resolved.

At some point I had to accept:

Whatever isn’t finished, I’ll finish outside this house.

Because preparation can become another trap if you convince yourself you aren’t allowed to leave until everything is perfect.

Nothing was going to be perfect.

I just needed to be prepared enough to survive the next step.

Start Studying Adulthood Early

If you’re thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen or seventeen and you already know home is not somewhere you’re going to be able to remain safely or sanely into adulthood, start learning.

Quietly.

You don’t need to announce:

I’m preparing to leave all of you motherfuckers.

Please don’t.

Read.

Research.

Pay attention.

Learn what adults around you are doing.

Ask safe people questions.

Use the internet.

Learn how money moves.

Learn how people get jobs.

Learn what your labor is worth.

Learn how banking works.

Learn what credit is before somebody teaches you by fucking yours up.

Learn what documents belong to you and how replacements work.

Learn what rent costs where you want to live.

Learn what transportation costs.

Learn basic cooking.

Learn laundry.

Learn basic cleaning.

Learn how to schedule an appointment.

Learn how prescriptions work if you use them.

Learn how insurance works.

Learn how to recognize a scam.

Learn what taxes are.

Learn how to read something before signing your name to it.

Learn how to make a budget.

Learn how much life actually costs.

You have something I did not have.

The fucking internet.

Use it.

I Had to Figure This Shit Out Before Google Could Raise Me

I came of age before TikTok.

Before Reddit communities where thousands of strangers could compare experiences.

Before YouTube tutorials for every mundane adult task imaginable.

Before you could type an embarrassing question into Google at two in the morning and quietly learn something nobody at home was willing to teach you.

I had to figure out an enormous amount of shit myself.

And somehow, I did.

I made mistakes.

I got lucky.

I learned things later than I should have.

But I got out.

When I think about young people in similar situations now, this is one place where you have an advantage I would have killed for.

Information is everywhere.

Your parents may control the house.

They may control the car.

They may control the money.

They may control whether you’re allowed to go somewhere tonight.

But they do not control all the information anymore.

Learn.

Do Not Confuse Preparation With Parentification

I want to make one distinction because it matters.

I’m not telling a thirteen-year-old to become a forty-year-old.

I’m not telling you to raise your siblings.

I’m not telling you to pay household bills.

I’m not telling you to become your mother’s therapist or your father’s emotional support animal.

I’m not telling you that you shouldn’t get to be young.

You should.

I’m saying that if your circumstances have already told you that you may not have a soft landing, learning how adulthood works is an act of preparation.

There is a difference between being forced to carry adult responsibilities and voluntarily acquiring adult knowledge.

Knowledge makes you harder to trap.

Loving Parents Can Afford to Let Their Kids Be Clueless

This may piss somebody off.

So be it.

Extended adolescence works beautifully when there is somebody underneath it.

A nineteen-year-old can afford to be somewhat clueless when Dad will explain the car insurance.

A twenty-year-old can experiment with careers when Mom isn’t threatening homelessness.

A twenty-two-year-old can move home after a breakup when home is safe.

A college graduate can spend six months finding the right job when somebody else is covering groceries.

There is nothing wrong with any of that.

That’s what family support is supposed to do.

I actually think it’s wonderful.

But stop pretending everybody has access to it.

Some young people are not launching from a nest.

They’re escaping a cage.

The advice has to be different.

Staying Can Cost You Too

People talk endlessly about the risks of leaving.

And there are risks.

Money.

Housing.

Safety.

Employment.

Transportation.

Loneliness.

All real.

But sometimes people forget to calculate the risks of staying.

Another year under somebody’s control.

Another year unable to save.

Another year having your education interfered with.

Another year being told you’re incapable.

Another year of your confidence being dismantled.

Another year where somebody else gets veto power over opportunities that could have moved you forward.

Another year in the eye of the storm.

Sometimes leaving too early can set you back.

Sometimes leaving too late can too.

That calculation is personal.

But make the whole calculation.

You Don’t Need to Be Completely Ready

This is where I don’t want preparation to become perfectionism.

You can spend forever saying:

I need more money.

I need a better job.

I need a car.

I need better credit.

I need to finish school.

I need another certification.

I need six months of expenses.

I need everything perfectly lined up.

Meanwhile, another year passes.

Prepare as much as you realistically can.

Then recognize that at some point, you may have to finish becoming independent while already independent.

I did.

Lots of people do.

The goal isn’t to leave knowing everything.

The goal is to leave knowing enough that the first ordinary adult problem doesn’t automatically send you crawling back to the people you escaped.

There Is an Outside

If you’re reading this at fifteen from a bedroom in a house you hate, eighteen might feel impossibly far away.

I understand.

When you’ve only been alive fifteen years, three years is a huge percentage of your entire existence.

So don’t just stare at the calendar.

Prepare.

Every useful thing you learn gives that time a purpose.

Every dollar you’re legally able to save.

Every document you understand.

Every skill you acquire.

Every safe relationship you build.

Every piece of information you collect.

Every practical problem you learn how to solve.

You’re building something.

You are learning how to exist outside the storm before you ever step outside it.

You shouldn’t have to do this so young.

Somebody else may get to spend eighteen figuring out what they want for dinner while their parents pay the electric bill.

That’s their life.

Don’t waste energy resenting their runway.

Build yours.

Because if nobody is coming to rescue you at eighteen, don’t let eighteen catch you by surprise.

You don’t have to become an adult at thirteen.

But you can start studying adulthood.

And when your day finally comes, you don’t need to know everything.

You just need enough knowledge, enough preparation and enough belief in your own competence to take the next step.

Then another.

Then another.

Until one day you look around and realize something that once seemed impossible:

You’re outside.

And everything you still don’t know?

You can learn it out here.

Every skill you learn before you leave is one less thing you’ll have to learn while you’re bleeding.