Child-Adult

I am 30 years old. I am supposed to be an adult. But I don't feel like one. I feel more like a child trapped in an adult's body. I am a child-adult. I still live at home with my parents. In the same house I've lived in since I was 18 months old.

I sleep in the same bedroom, in the same single bed that I've slept in since I was a toddler. The only difference is my bed is no longer part of bunk beds. The same mint green walls. The same  pastel chequered curtains which have never been good at keeping light out.

There are no grown-up fancy arty pictures on my walls. Instead my walls are covered in Doctor Who posters. There are boxes of American comics under my bed and plastic action figures on my shelves instead of books.

My parents provide me with food, heating and electricity as well as comfort and support. I don't understand mortgages, council tax or water rates. The only bill I have to worry about is my monthly mobile phone charge. Every Friday evening I will be asked what food I will want for my lunches next week so they can make sure I've got food to eat.

I don't iron clothes as I can't be trusted with hot objects and in the past when I've tried to use the iron I've burnt other people's clothes. I hardly ever put the washing on as I easily get confused separating clothes in into piles of dark and light colours. When I attempt to hang clothes on the washing line I apparently hang them up the wrong way.

When I am home alone I'm not a happy bunny. I feel lonely and restless. I often call my dad up when he's at work. To let him know I'm how I'm doing, what I'm doing or if I'm needing some tlc. I always seem to call him when I need to make a decision whether it’s big or small. I don't feel capable of making decisions on my own.

I hardly ever feel confident enough to use the oven on my own if I'm home alone. I can't cook meals from scratch as recipes and ingredients confuse me. On rare occasions when I am full of false hope I try to bake something for my parents, but I will keep checking that I've turned the oven hobs off for the next hour or so. I don't trust myself as I've caused a fire before when I forgot to turn the grill off after I cooked some sausages.

If the home phone rings when I am home alone I don't answer it 99% of the time. If I open the front door to cold callers the always seem to ask if my mum or dad are in before I can even tell them I'm not the owner of the house.

I always go to bed before my parents and make sure I say 'night night', and I get woken up by my mum for breakfast every day.

I wonder whether I will always be like Peter Pan or one day shall I be grown-up like Wendy?