5 life lessons that helped me embrace adulthood

Have you ever looked at adults and thought, “How do they know what they’re doing?” Spoiler alert: Most of them are still figuring it out.

Adulting isn't some secret code you unlock. It's just...handling your stuff instead of pretending it doesn't exist. And honestly? It's lowkey way more doable than it seems.

Here are some real skills that helped make adulting easier (stuff about money, relationships, how to ask for help, and how to fail). As someone who's been there and hasn't lost it in a grocery store aisle yet, I can assure you that adulthood isn't as hard as it looks.

When I turned 18, I moved to a new country alone, studied in a different language, worked jobs, paid rent, dealt with roommate drama, and figured things out as I went. Not in a cinematic way — more like daily side quests.

Here's what those daily side quests taught me: responsibility sounds scary, but it actually means something good. It means you have the ability to make things happen. And this is the key to “adulting”. Even small choices can change how things turn out.

For example, at my first job, I kept messing up because I didn't fully understand the instructions. I could've kept struggling silently, but I asked my manager to walk me through it one more time. One vulnerable ask, and suddenly it clicked.

Why this matters: When you own your choices — the wins and the L's (losses) — you actually see what works and what doesn't, and can steer in the direction you want.

So start small. Think of something that's been getting to you.

Ask yourself: What's one thing I can actually do about it? Do that. That's responsibility.

This is probably the most important thing I'm gonna tell you: reaching out isn't a weakness. It's actually the smartest move you can make.

For example, when I graduated and started job hunting in Canada, I realized I didn't understand how networking actually worked here. It was a different culture from what I'd known.

So I reached out to a friend who'd already landed a job a year earlier. I told them honestly: I need help figuring this out.

I told them honestly: I need help figuring this out. My friend explained how LinkedIn worked, suggested I post regularly, and challenged me to reach out to two people in my field.

It was uncomfortable sending those messages to strangers. But I did it anyway. One of those connections led directly to my first job.

So here is how to start:

1. Pick one person — they don't need to be mentors or super close friends, just people who've navigated what you're facing now.

2. Ask one honest question about something they've figured out that you're struggling with ("How did you figure out [specific thing] when you first [situation]?").

3. Try what they suggest, then come back with your next question.

You'd be shocked by how many people are happy to help if you just ask.

Money feels complicated because no one explains it early. But it's simple: you need to know how much is coming in, where it's going, and what's left at the end. That’s really it.

Here's what worked for me:

1. Track your spending. Write down everything you spend for two weeks. Every Stanley cup, every DoorDash order, rent, subscriptions — all of it.

2. Figure out what is essential and what isn't. Essentials are rent, food, and stuff you need to survive. Everything else is extra. That's where you actually have control.

3. Evaluate your findings. Once you separate those two, money will stop feeling like this mysterious thing and start feeling like...math. And math you can do.

The 50/30/20 rule is your spending cheat sheet! It's a budget formula that actually works:

• 50% goes to stuff you actually need (rent, food, bills)

• 30% is for things you want (going out, shopping, whatever makes you happy)

• 20% is for saving or paying off debt

Try this calculator to see how your numbers actually stack up based on your income.

Photo by Vitaly Gariev on Unsplash

Relationships are one of the hardest and most rewarding parts of being an adult.

The people around you shape your future, but not every relationship will be mutually beneficial. Some relationships are worth investing in. Some aren't. That's okay — figuring out which is which matters.

The #1 thing that kills relationships? Bad communication!

I've watched friendships fall apart because someone got hurt and just... stopped communicating. I've seen people stay in toxic situations because they were too scared to say anything.

The pattern is always the same: silence -> resentment builds -> the relationship ends. The saddest thing is that things could've played out differently.

Here's how to actually fix it:

• Step 1: Notice when the energy shifts. If you're dreading texts or conversations feel awkward, pay attention. Don't pretend it's fine.

• Step 2: Get clear on what's bothering you. "When you [specific thing], it made me feel [specific feeling]" hits different than vague complaints.

• Step 3: Have an honest conversation and listen to their side. They might not have known how their actions affected you. Listen first, react second.

• Step 4: Decide what comes next. How people respond to feedback shows you compatibility and whether a relationship feels sustainable — some engage thoughtfully and adjust, others become defensive.

Why this matters: The people around you affect your well-being and growth. Relationships that feel give-and-take and energizing are usually worth keeping, while ones that consistently drain you might not be. Having real conversations helps you see if someone actually listens and cares. That's what makes a relationship worth holding onto.

I spent years being afraid to fail. I thought if I tried something and messed up, it would be proof that something was wrong with me — that I was somehow broken or a failure — and I wouldn't be able to handle it.

In my mid-twenties, I spent years avoiding applying to schools, even though I wanted to change careers. What if I couldn't balance work and school? What if I wasn't good enough for the program? The fear kept me stuck and unhappy.

Here's what changed: I reframed what failure actually means.

I told myself that failure isn't evidence that I'm broken — it's information that tells me what to adjust. If things didn't work out, I could transfer to part-time, switch programs, pivot my approach. I won't know unless I try, and I can trust myself to adapt.

That reframe — treating it as feedback, not failure — made me brave enough to apply. And now? I'm in a program I actually love, and I figured out how to balance it all. The fear was real. But so was my ability to handle it and move forward.

Now you know you're going to be okay. Here's where to start: