by Jeanette R. Harrison, MPH
I’m 54 years old. Yet, people like to act as if I need to "grow up" when I ask anyone for help.
I want to explain — calmly, clearly, and honestly — why that comment isn’t just wrong, but deeply disrespectful.
I have been a grown-up since I was a child.
I entered foster care when I was three or four years old. That is not a childhood filled with safety, ease, or protection. From a very young age, I had to take care of myself and help care for my younger sister. Survival requires responsibility. Responsibility forces maturity long before a child should ever need it.
Since I was 18, I have been on my own. I have paid my own bills. I have supported myself. There has never been anyone quietly handling things behind the scenes for me.
I paid my way through college. I worked for my education. I lived on my own in New York City. I survived homelessness. None of those experiences are possible without discipline, problem-solving, and resilience.
Later, I returned to school while working full-time and attending college full-time. I did both at once. That is not immaturity. That is endurance.
Five years after surviving homelessness, I earned a master’s degree from a top-tier university and found myself sitting in the boardroom at a billion-dollar healthcare organization. That didn’t happen by accident. It happened because I kept showing up and doing the work, even when it was hard.
After ten straight years of education and training, I didn’t have a job immediately. One year later, that single year became enough for people to label me a loser, to mock me, to tell me I should work at Walmart.
Still, I kept going.
When I did secure work, the criticism didn’t stop. Wherever I worked, the same people found ways to judge, undermine, and comment — all while insisting I was the one who needed to “grow up.”
Later, I moved in with my now-ex, who was an immigrant. I helped him become a U.S. citizen. I helped raise his son. I worked, contributed, and showed up the way women in committed relationships do every day.
When my stepson’s biological mother didn’t pay the bills, I stepped in. I wasn't just a stepmom. I was the step-up mom. I paid for school lunches. I made his bed. I cooked his meals. I did his laundry. I handled responsibilities because a child depended on me.
That work was invisible to outsiders. It usually is.
Then my ex came home one night and told me he was openly dating someone else. I was forced out of my home during a pandemic. When everyone else was hiding, I moved to Idaho with nothing and had to rebuild my life — again. And even then, people felt entitled to tell me to “grow up.”
As if rebuilding a life should take five minutes.
As if adulthood means never laughing, never going out, never being human.
The people saying these things are not here to help me. They are not paying my bills. They are not showing up on holidays. I have spent Christmases alone. Thanksgivings alone. I have done what needed to be done because there was no one else to do it. The choice was simple: do it, or don’t survive.
Friends loaned me money to buy my first car, and I paid them back out of my $5.50 an hour paycheck. So, technically, I bought my first car with my own money. I helped buy a house by working 12-hour days to make the down payment. My parents didn’t give me that money. No one handed me anything.
I do 99% of it myself.
So when someone says, “I helped you,” and then uses that as permission to talk down to me — to treat me like a child — I have a problem with that. Help does not create ownership. Help does not erase decades of self-sufficiency. And help does not entitle anyone to disrespect.
I was originally trying to write a post about gratitude — about being grateful for people. And the truth is, gratitude becomes complicated when people are cruel, dismissive, or hateful under the guise of concern.
I am grateful for the people who treat me with dignity. I am grateful for those who respect my history, my effort, and my humanity.
But I will no longer accept the narrative that I need to “grow up.”
I already did.
A long time ago.
Three People I’m Grateful for Today
1. X
A person who has witnessed my struggles firsthand. They know I’m not exaggerating. When they hear false statements about me, they correct them — even when I’m not around. That matters.
2. Y
A person who offers a helping hand without judgment. She listens — truly listens — and tries to understand a life very different from her own. Compassion without condescension is a rare gift.
3. Z
The person who repeatedly checked in on me when I lived alone in New York. I never told many people how scared and lonely I was, but they knew. They listened through tears, uncertainty, graduate school stress, and job fears — offering empathy instead of lectures.
The Best Thing That Happened Today
A friend I loved spending time with in my 20s reached out today and showed up for me in a small but meaningful way when I needed it.
Ten Things I Am Grateful for Today
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Waking up this morning.
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A warm place to be on a cold, windy day.
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My dog snuggled next to me.
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The ham and bean soup I made turning out delicious.
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Food in my cupboard.
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A heater that keeps me warm.
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A reminder that I’ve only been without a job for a week and a half.
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My crocheted blanket that feels like home — because I made it.
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Holiday movies I’ve been watching each night.
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Online meditations that help me stay centered and calm.
Inspired by The Magic by Rhonda Byrne, this gratitude practice has been adapted into a self-paced 28 Days of Gratitude course for readers who want a simple structure without pressure. An optional guided journal, Bragging About You, is available for deeper reflection.
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