adult supervision

will you come over and watch me wash the dishes?

It’s midnight here in Spain and I’m writing this essay because I’m jet-lagged and scared. 

Don’t panic, I’m not SCARED scared. I’m just ambiently scared, not by anything in particular. This is the first time I’ve lived alone and I’ve become a jumpy person. Even four months in, I sit in my 3 bedroom flat in Barcelona and I’m a little spooked. 

It has nothing to do with the apartment, and everything to do with the fact that I’ve never lived on my own. Not that I haven’t wanted to live alone, but because I couldn’t afford to. An apartment just for me in New York City? As if.

Wen I moved to Spain, there was no doubt in my mind that I was going to live by myself. Among my friends in New York, it was our dream to live alone. We’d complain about the roommate who left their dishes in the sink and wax poetic about the day we’d have a whole sink to ourselves. 

For the most part, I do enjoy living alone. Except sometimes, I can’t find the motivation to do anything. I’ve gotten into the habit of inviting my friends over to hang out when I need to pack or do the dishes. I’m not enlisting them to help me, they sit on their computer in the other room and we shout to each other while I carry out my task. 

“Adult supervision,” I jokingly call it. “Don’t tell Tim Ferriss about this life hack.”

Many of my friends from Europe and Latin America live with their siblings and parents. Sometimes their grandparents too. It’s normal here. 

Not so much in the US. Yes, Covid brought more people to live at home for some extra comfort and savings for a short period of time. But largely, living with your parents and multi-generational family isn’t the norm. 

Specifically in my hometown, it was expected that you’d leave the house as soon as you graduated high school, go to college far away, and then settle down even farther away. I scoffed at the people who returned back to my hometown. How could they do that?

I followed the formula, fleeing Michigan as soon as I graduated. I didn’t come home more than once in a calendar year because of my demands at work. I remember being so proud of how busy and important my job felt. 

Now that I’m away from New York, I’m able to see more clearly how individualism and achievement drove my life. With this perspective, I’m starting to question what I valued and why.

It’s not just with my family relationships that were run by hyper-independence. It bled into my romantic relationships too. 

Some time ago, I read an article about Warren Buffett saying that the biggest decision of your life will be who you choose to marry. At the time, I scoffed. Singularly focused on my career, I didn’t have time to date. Success required no distractions. More than that, I didn’t want to expose myself to relying on someone other than myself.  

My view on this has completely reversed.  Right now, I’m seeing how a healthy relationship can have an exponentially positive impact. I’m seeing how being cared for and supported has transformed my creativity, joy, and well-being. I can’t do everything alone. Nor do I want to. 

Here’s an example. 

Two weeks ago, I had the crazy experience of over-scheduling myself 8 times over. Meaning, in one block of time, I had confirmed eight (8!!!!) different things I was supposed to do. Obviously, I panicked. 

My boyfriend, an incredible project manager, sensed my anxiety from across the room. He walked through each option with me. Together we canceled things one by one. 

This is a micro example, but generally, it has been an otherworldly experience to feel like I have someone in my corner. To know that we can do so much more together than I could ever do alone. 

More than anything, these past months have led me to question my default beliefs about what a “good life” means. Is success really a big empty house and a lot of money? Is “making it” really worth it if you had to do it by yourself?

With this in mind, I look back at my years in New York and grimace at how I prioritized working over spending time with my family. Maybe my American dream wasn’t that at all. I’m here in the apartment that I thought would be the pinnacle of “making it” and honestly, I wish my brothers and parents lived upstairs or down the block. 

The lucky thing here is that I have the autonomy to make changes. As I set myself up today for my next five, ten, fifty years, I’m grateful to be able to re-chart the course of my life. It’s clear to me now that no job or achievement is more important than treasuring significant relationships and making time for them.

My boyfriend is coming to visit tomorrow and I’m counting down the seconds. I’m booking flights home for Thanksgiving so I can hug my grandparents. I’m going to ask a friend to come over and sit at my kitchen table so I can finally unpack my suitcase.

This big, hard world is too much to go it alone. My life has opened up for me once I let myself ask for and enjoy comfort, care, and company. 

Now more than ever I’m grateful for a bit of adult supervision.