I feel like I have aged 30 years in the last 3 months.
My Partner (39) has, for many years now, described himself as being “in my very late twenties”. I am the opposite, and frequently refer to myself as being 100 years old (despite having only accomplished 35 trips around the sun to date).
Like a lot of millennials, I’ve always felt out of sync with my age and the typical markers for adulthood. I own a house and a car. I hold a senior role at work. But I don’t have pets or children. I never intended to get married. I still, despite constant reminders from my Mum, do not have a will.
I used to feel like an adult, but a junior adult. Capable in some spaces, but very unsure and naïve in so many others.
But when your soul-mate is given 18 months to live, you don’t have a choice any more. You have to grow up fast.
My parents (and his) had updated their own wills at the start of the year, getting ready for retirement. Then came their Lasting Power of Attorney. And funeral instructions (my Mum’s funeral will be approximately 200 hours long just to get through all the songs she wants on her playlist). A little morbid, but practical and necessary. A smart thing to do at that stage in their life. A terrifying prospect when you’re supposed to be just settling into your life.
‘Get your affairs in order’ is about so much more than just the paperwork (and there is so much paperwork). You have to go through all your assets, list them out on paper, and allocate them. You have to figure out how to distribute all the tangible parts of your life that will be left behind. The sum of almost four decades of life doesn’t go far in cold hard cash.
Being able to see the end of the runway (or at least, being hyper-aware of the exit sign coming up ahead) does give you a new perspective on what matters though. Not always in the best ways. Am I going to spend two minutes comparing loaves of bread to see which gives me the best price? No – I’m going to buy whatever sounds most delicious, and ignore the nutritional info. Am I going to push my partner to stop smoking and drinking? No – I’m going to let him live out his life exactly as he wants. Train’s busy? Seatfrog upgrade. Film’s boring? Leave.
We can’t live like this forever, of course. But I can’t pretend it hasn’t been both enlightening and liberating to be able to focus on what really matters to us both.
I still don’t feel qualified for all the decisions. We switched to telephone appointments with the Oncologist. He wants to talk to me because I know my partner best, and I’m the one that will spot changes and issues and report back what is needed.
The imposter syndrome is intense.
Is he grumpy because he’s tired? Or because his brain is swelling? Or just because grumpy is his default state and he’s coming back to himself? It’s that last one, definitely – but am I really sure?
And managing our joint finances in this very uncertain world makes me question everything.
We have two cars and only one of us is allowed to drive these days (spoiler: it’s me). Logically, we should keep his newer car and sell mine for some quick cash. But my car has is fully paid off. My car is known and safe and familiar. He has a name. And I still have to think beyond two years. We kept my car.
And what about savings? Investments? Pay the mortgage off faster? Or have more cash right now? All these decisions that everyone in their 60s has advice for – but that don’t take into account that we are still in our 30s and playing with a completely different set of cards.
And then the most difficult part of growing up – realising that the ‘adults’ in your life are not infallible. That they are scared and flawed and selfish, just like you. That your parents are always your parents and you are always their child. Even when you’re 35 and running a command centre on WhatsApp from the floor of a hospital ward.
We thought we had decades ahead of us. A whole life to meander through together. Watching siblings and niblings grow up. Supporting parents in their later years. Accumulating things and memories and legacies to leave behind.
Now we have a much shorter runway. Fewer years to cram in everything we want to do and say and be. So let’s speedrun a decade in a year and see how bright we can burn.
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