There’s an old saying that goes, “Youth is wasted on the youth.” I used to totally agree with that statement.

When you’re young, you believe you’re invincible. You can hustle, party, go to school, and still have unlimited amounts of energy.

I remember when I attended Howard University. I would work twelve-hour shifts at this hood Olive Garden, walk across the street to my apartment to where my roommates were throwing a party, get my drink on till the wee hours of the morning (I was totally a drunk and hot girl), and then get right back up for another twelve hours of slinging breadsticks.

After college, but still in my twenties, I had an insatiable amount of energy toward the hustle of making it in New York.

The kind of energy where it didn’t matter that I slept on my homeboy’s couch as I interned at O, The Oprah Magazine. I had the kind of “I was going to make it in NYC” energy that could rival the infectious intro to Jay Z’s “Empire State of Mind.” It was this “I’mma eat these cup of noodles, drank a 4 Loko, and intern at a badass magazine, while figuring out my life” energy that clearly summed up my twenties.

Fast forward to my 32nd birthday that passed at the beginning of May; I don’t know if I truly agree with the aforementioned quote. I wouldn’t trade my worldly sophistication for my young and wild days at all.

And I can’t relate to my Facebook friends who lament that “adulting is hard.”

While all my facial products have now become anti-aging washes and cleansers and toners, the real sweet tea about being an adult is that we have the fortitude to not crack under pressure.

There is something to be said about being grown and in control of your emotions.

I think about how overwhelmed I would get when I was younger. Back then, my water bottle could spill in my purse and my iPod could be destroyed by water damage and my whole day would be shot. I would tweet “FML”, then text my boyfriend, and then whine to my parents and plead about how I needed a new one cause I couldn’t study without my music.

The same incident happened to me two weeks ago, this time with my iPad, and I was so chill about it. I prayed over it, called Sprint to make sure I had insurance, and a few hours later my iPad started to work again.

I definitely need to make sure I screw the top on my water bottle tighter. But knowing that my life isn’t over and not worrying about it, only comes from growth.

The growth that only happens as you age.

There is peace in knowing that I’m grown. And sexy. I still have that hustle in me, but now I hustle smarter and not harder.

Adulting becomes hard when you’re an adult and you realize that you aren’t walking into your purpose, you hate your job, you’re still dealing with lames, and you’re probably bored. You’re only young for a short period of time, and if you’re blessed, you’re older for a longer period of time. And that’s where the magic happens.

When you are so unbothered by others.

When you realize what really makes you happy.

When you have just a touch of petty, but for the most part you’ve come to the realization that what others do and say has nothing to do with you.

When you own who you are, unapologetically.

When you realize you are multifaceted; you can listen to trap and love God.

I think what I love about being a Black woman is my strength.

It’s cultivated when you’re young and once you realize your strength as you get older. That’s #blackqueenmagic.

From growing spiritual to getting to my happy- which took me way too long to get to, the slayage is real in your thirties. And after searching Nia Long’s skincare secrets, I go to bed oily so this Black really ain’t cracking.

How to Adult the Fly Girl Way:

  1. Get right with God.
  2. Stop limiting yourself.
  3. Start it now (whatever you’re it is).
  4. Try to be as calm, cool and collected as possible.
  5. Laugh more.
  6. Love more.
  7. Do you.

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