Mark: Alright Michelle, I'm going to say a TV show, you tell me the first 'adulting' lesson that comes to mind. Ready? Schitt's Creek. Michelle: Easy. Do the opposite of whatever the Roses do in season one. Especially the part about folding in the cheese. Mark: Perfect. And that's surprisingly close to the heart of the book we're talking about today. The author even quotes David from the show saying, "You just watch a season of Girls and do the opposite of what they do." It’s about learning from messes, even fictional ones. Michelle: I love that. It’s so much more honest than pretending anyone has a perfect manual for life. What's the book? Mark: We are diving into Your Turn: How to Be an Adult by Julie Lythcott-Haims. Michelle: And she's the perfect person to write this, right? She was the Dean of Freshmen at Stanford for years, so she had a front-row seat to thousands of young people wrestling with this exact question of how to grow up. Mark: Exactly. She saw firsthand how the old rules just don't apply anymore, which led her to write this incredibly frank and compassionate guide. It’s been widely praised for that very reason, for meeting young adults where they are, without judgment. Michelle: Which is a huge relief, because I think a lot of us feel like we're failing a test we never got the study guide for. Mark: Well, her central argument is that we've all been given the wrong study guide. The test itself has changed.

Michelle: Okay, so what was on the old study guide? What’s this outdated map you’re talking about? Mark: For most of the 20th century, psychologists had a very neat, five-step checklist for becoming an adult. Step one: finish your education. Step two: get a job. Three: leave home. Four: get married. And five: have children. Check all those boxes, and congratulations, you've unlocked the 'Adult' achievement. Michelle: Wow. Hearing that list laid out so starkly, it sounds completely alien to how most people I know live their lives. It’s so linear, so rigid. Mark: Precisely. Lythcott-Haims argues that this model is not just outdated, it's harmful. It creates this immense pressure to follow a script that doesn't reflect modern reality. She says real adulting is something else entirely. It’s a state of mind. And she illustrates this with a story from her own life that is just unforgettable. Michelle: I’m ready. Hit me with it. Mark: It's August 1994. She's just graduated from Harvard Law School. She and her husband, Dan, are moving from Massachusetts to California to start their new life. They pack everything they own—all their books, their wedding gifts, their memories—into a moving truck and send it off across the country. Michelle: The classic cross-country move. Full of hope and possibility. Mark: Exactly. They take a little detour to visit her parents on Martha's Vineyard before flying out to the West Coast. They're at her parents' house, about to have dinner, when the phone rings. It's the moving company. Michelle: Oh no. I have a very bad feeling about this. Mark: The man on the phone says their truck caught fire near the border of Texas and Oklahoma. He tells her, "It's a total loss." Everything they owned, just gone. Incinerated on the side of a highway. Michelle: That is my worst nightmare. I mean, what do you even do? Do you scream? Do you cry? Do you just collapse? Mark: This is the crucial part of the story. She describes her reaction. She just tightened her lips, raised her eyebrows, and had this internal thought: Well, that’s the way it is. She said she wanted so badly to act brave, to not seem like this was, in her words, "scary as fuck." Michelle: She was trying to perform adulthood. To look like she had it all under control even when her world was literally on fire. Mark: Yes. Her husband Dan comes over with the same look on his face. They hug, really tight, but brief. Her parents hug them. And then… her mom starts serving dinner. And in that moment, watching her parents, she has this profound realization. This problem? This is not their problem to solve. It's hers and Dan's. Michelle: That’s the shift. It’s the moment you realize your parents aren't the emergency contact anymore. You are. Mark: That’s it exactly. She says that was her first real adulting moment. It wasn't getting the law degree or getting married. It was the moment she knew, deep in her bones, that it was on her to handle it. And while it was terrifying, she also felt this flicker of… empowerment. She knew they could figure it out. Michelle: So the 'adulting' moment wasn't when they packed the truck, but when they got the call and realized, 'This is on us'? It’s not about the action, it’s about the acceptance of responsibility. Mark: Precisely. It’s a shift from a child’s mindset, which is 'Who will fix this for me?', to an adult’s mindset, which is 'I have to fix this, and I can at least try.' That’s the core of the book. Adulting isn't a checklist; it's the internal switch that flips when you realize it’s your turn.

Michelle: That fire is such a dramatic, sudden moment. A real trial by fire, literally. But for a lot of people, isn't it more of a slow realization? Like you just wake up one day and feel… 'underbaked'? Mark: Absolutely. And Lythcott-Haims addresses this beautifully. The crisis model is one way, but there's also the gradual awakening. She was inspired to write this book by a letter she received from a 20-year-old student named Kristine. Michelle: What did Kristine say? Mark: Kristine wrote that she felt 'underbaked' and that her mother was still overparenting her and her 16-year-old brother. The example she gave was that her mom wouldn't even let her brother cut his own salami. She was worried because her mom never taught her to cook, and she saw her brother not learning these basic life skills. Michelle: Oh, I know that feeling. It’s not a crisis, but it’s this nagging sense that you’re missing some fundamental software. It’s the small things, like not knowing how to properly address an envelope or what to do when your car makes a weird noise. Mark: Exactly. But Kristine started to develop what she called an 'adult awareness.' She started noticing little changes in herself. She began making presentations at work. She started packing her own lunch. It wasn't a single event, but a series of small, conscious choices to take on more responsibility. Michelle: What was the turning point for her? Mark: The big breakthrough was when she convinced her mom to pass on one household chore: cleaning the toilets. And she saw it as a victory. It was her taking ownership of a small piece of her world. That’s the 'fending for yourself' muscle in action. It starts small. Michelle: I love that. It’s so much more relatable than the truck fire. It’s the small wins, like finally figuring out your own health insurance or successfully assembling IKEA furniture, that make you feel like you're getting it. Mark: And this idea of 'fending' goes even deeper. The book includes some really powerful stories of young people who had to fend for themselves out of pure necessity, not just for personal growth. There's a young man named Kyle from Appalachia, whose father died and whose mother struggled with addiction. He was bagging groceries, doing construction, mowing lawns—all to keep his family afloat while he was still a teenager. Michelle: Wow. That puts the 'salami-cutting' issue into perspective. For him, fending wasn't about empowerment, it was about survival. Mark: It was. But the outcome is what's so incredible. He didn't just survive; he decided to go to college and is now the founder of a nonprofit to help other kids in his region. His circumstances forced him to build that fending muscle to an extraordinary degree, and he turned it into a force for good. Michelle: That’s a crucial point. The book isn't just for privileged kids feeling 'underbaked.' It acknowledges that for many, adulting is a high-stakes reality from a very young age. Mark: It does. It’s about recognizing that no matter your starting point, the path forward involves taking charge of what you can control. Whether it’s cleaning a toilet, handling a crisis, or supporting your entire family, the underlying principle is the same: it’s your turn.

Mark: So whether it's a sudden crisis like a moving truck on fire, or a slow dawning realization that you need to learn to cut your own salami, the destination is the same. Michelle: It’s about taking charge. It’s that fundamental shift from being a passenger in your own life to getting behind the wheel. Mark: Exactly. It's moving from a life where things happen to you, to a life where you happen to things. You become the person who is in charge. And the author makes a point to say that this isn't about cutting off your parents. It's about developing what she calls a 'horizontal' relationship with them—one of equals, where they're no longer primarily responsible for you. Michelle: That sounds like the goal. It's about building that 'fending' muscle. And a key part of the book's message, which I find so reassuring, is that you don't have to be perfect at it. The goal isn't flawlessness. Mark: Not at all. The author is huge on this. She says perfectionism is a trap that leads to misery. The point is just to be willing to try, to make mistakes, and to learn from them. The 'doing' is what forges your adult self. Michelle: And ultimately, what is all this 'doing' for? What’s the prize at the end of the adulting rainbow? Mark: This might be the most profound insight in the whole book. After all this talk about responsibility and fending for yourself, she says the real key to a happy life isn't the career, or the house, or any of those old checklist items. Research proves it, and life proves it. Michelle: What is it? Mark: It’s finding a small set of humans who know the real you, who love and support you no matter what, and whom you love and support in return. That's it. That's the endgame. All the fending and responsibility is what makes you a person capable of building and maintaining those deep, authentic connections. Michelle: That’s a beautiful way to tie it all together. It makes you wonder, what was your 'moving truck fire' moment? Maybe it wasn't a fire, but a moment you knew, deep down, 'Okay, this is my turn.' Mark: A powerful question to leave on. Michelle: This is Aibrary, signing off.