There’s a special kind of horror reserved for growing up. As a child, you imagine adulthood as a shimmering utopia of independence, late-night ice cream, and inexplicably large throw pillows. But then you grow up, and instead of utopia, you find bills, back pain, and the sudden realisation that nobody really knows how taxes work.
For me, growing up meant getting married, owning a house with my husband, raising a child, and living in Croatia. That sounds like the final level of a life-simulation game where you’re juggling family, home maintenance, and the occasional crisis involving a mysteriously broken appliance that is constantly on repair. Oh, and did I mention the bills? You don’t just pay for your home—you fund its never-ending list of complaints. There’s always something dripping, creaking, or flat-out rebelling against the laws of physics.
Life is Expensive
First, there’s the fear of responsibility. Remember that giddy thrill you used to get playing Monopoly? Well, congratulations, you’re now living it—except instead of landing on properties and building hotels, you’re just trying to afford groceries without taking out a loan. Every trip to the store is a reminder that inflation is apparently the universe’s way of testing your optimism. Eggs cost as much as minor electronics, and don’t even get me started on the price of cheese. You used to beg your parents for a few coins to buy candy; now you’re strategically plotting which kidney to sell for a full cart of groceries.
And then there’s the job market, a twisted version of musical chairs where the music stops, and somehow, you’re left fighting five other people for the same wobbly folding chair that only pays in exposure and free coffee. They tell you to follow your dreams, but they forget to mention that dreams apparently come with subscription fees and two-factor authentication. Your LinkedIn page becomes a digital shrine of your “achievements,” which mainly include remembering your email password and once attending a webinar without immediately logging off.
But There is Also Freedom
Let’s not forget about relationships. Ah yes, the Shakespearean drama of adult socialising. As a kid, making friends was as simple as sharing a crayon. Now, it’s an Olympic event involving LinkedIn endorsements, Instagram validations, and the occasional networking brunch where everyone pretends to like sparkling water. Dating is a separate horror anthology altogether. It’s like window shopping for humans, but half of them are mannequins and the other half are just looking for someone to split a streaming service with. I’m really happy that I found my better half, now almost ten years ago. Nowadays I would probably be single and backpacking through Europe in a desperate need of a sponsor.
But amidst the existential dread and creeping realisation that you are now the person who buys their own toilet paper, there is freedom—glorious, chaotic freedom. Yes, you’re terrified of mortgages and mildly convinced you’re failing somehow, but you also get to make the rules. Dinner can be Cheese and wine. You can adopt a cat or move to a city where no one knows you still watch cartoons. You can quit that job you hate, start a band that never makes money, or write a satirical article about how growing up is the ultimate horror show.
Good Luck, Champ
Because at the end of the day, adulthood is both terrifying and liberating. It’s a haunted house with a key to the front door and a note that says, “Good luck, champ.” And maybe, just maybe, that’s not so bad. Now if only someone would explain why we all own so many throw pillows.
Maybe it’s the messy beauty of learning as you go, of understanding that nobody has it all figured out and that the best moments are often the unscripted ones. You learn to find joy in small victories: a quiet morning coffee, a child’s laughter, or finally fixing that leaking faucet without calling your dad. So here’s to growing up—the horror show that’s also the best show in town.
Erika Matic is a writer and satirical observer of life’s chaotic twists. Based in Croatia, she navigates the joys and absurdities of adulthood with her husband, child, and a determination to make sense of it all—one witty article at a time. Her work captures the hilarity and heartbreak of modern living, all while secretly wondering why every sofa is drowning in throw pillows.
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