THURSDAY,JUNE17,2010.BYALLIE.

“ThisiswhyIwillneverbeanadult.”

Ihaverepeatedlydiscoveredthatitisimportantformenottosurpassmycapacityforresponsibility. Overtheyears, this capacity has grown, but the results ofexceedingithavenotchanged.

Normally, my capacity is exceeded gradually, throughtheaccumula@onofsimple,dailytasks....

Butafew@mesayear,IspontaneouslydecidethatI'mreadytobearealadult.Idon'tknowwhyIdecidethis;italwaysendsterriblyforme. ButIdoitanyway. Isitmyself down and tell myself how I'm going to startcleaning the house every day and paying my bills on@me and replying to emails before my inbox reachesquadrupledigits. SchedulesaredraGed. Day‐plannersare purchased. I stock up on fancy food because I'malso planning on morphing into a master chef andactuallycookinginsteadofjustea@ngnachosfordinnereverynight. Iprepareformynewlifeasanadultlikesomepeoplepreparefortheapocalypse.

Thefirstdayortwoofmyplansusuallygoesokay.

For a liMle while, I actually feel grown‐up andresponsible. I strut around withmy head held high,looking the other responsible people in the eye withthat knowing glance that says "I understand. I'mresponsiblenowtoo.Justlookatmygroceries."

Thisisamistake.

IbegintofeellikeI'veaccomplishedmygoals.It'slikeIthink that adulthood is something that can beearnedlike a trophy in one monumental burst of effort andthenadmiredandcovetedfortherestofone'slife.

What usually ends up happening is that I completelywear myself out. Thinking that I've earned it, I givemyselfpermission to slackoff forawhileand recover.Since I've exceeded my capacity for responsibility insuchadrama@cfashion,Iendupneedingtotakemorerecovery@methanusual.

Thisiswhentheguilt‐spiralstarts.

ThelongerIprocras@nateonreturningphonecallsandemails,themoreguilty I feel about it. Theguilt I feelcausesmetoavoid the issuefurther,whichonly leadstomoreguiltandmoreprocras@na@on. Itgets tothepoint where I don't email someone for fear ofreminding themthat theyemailedmeandthusgivingthemareasontobedisappointedinme.

Then the guilt frommy ignored responsibili@es growsso large that merely carrying it aroundwithme feelslikeahugeresponsibility. Ittakesupasizablepor@onof my capacity, leavingme almost completely uselessforanythingotherthanconsumingnachosandsurfingtheinternetlikeanaMen@on‐deficientsquirrelonPCP.

At somepoint in this endlessly spiralingdisaster, I amforced to throw all ofmy energy into trying to be anadult again, just todigmyselfoutof thepit I've falleninto. The problem is that I enter this round ofaMempted adulthood already burnt out from the lastround.

Ican'tnotfail...

Italwaysendsthesameway.

Slumpedandhaggard.

Icontemplatetheseeminglyendlesstasksaheadofme.

AndthenIrebel.

Mysimple,dailytasks...