I was told by my boss today that I have really matured in the three years I’ve been working there. I was pretty taken aback!

The catalyst for her statement was actually a tweet I posted yesterday about making corned beef and cabbage  for St. Patrick’s Day dinner. In her words, it was “a very grown-up thing to do.”

I’ve never really given much thought to my own maturity. On the one hand, I grew up very mature mentally for my age, often taking more comfort in conversations with adults rather than with my peers. Even today, this feeling lingers, though perhaps that’s just my ego talking.

But when it comes to the things that seem to define “adulthood” – going to work, paying bills, doing laundry, etc. – I haven’t really taken stock. I mean, here I am: 22 years old with a Bachelors degree, a job, my own apartment, and a diet that does not consist entirely of fast food. Just three years ago, I was unemployed, attending the local community college, living with my mom, and completely reliant on whatever food or money she provided. And now I’m preparing full-course holiday meals?!

I have absolutely no idea how this happened.