Being young and terrified

A couple of weeks ago, I went up for prayer at the altar in my church. The lady who prayed for me, a leader in the church, was very nice as well as mature in years. Before she began, she asked me what I needed prayer for and I told her that I was scared. I said that I had recently graduated college and that I now want to teach English, but I don't know where to teach or even exactly how to go about it. The lady, about 60 years old, then gave me this knowing (and possibly amused) smile--I would've almost thought it patronizing if I didn't already know her to be a sincere and kind person--and began to pray. After she briefly asked God for discernment and courage for me, she patted me on the cheek and said, "You're sweet."

I had a several-tiered reaction to that time at the altar, trying to compare my youth with her experience and get a "perspective win" by thinking things like, "I'll get through this anxiety. This church leader has likely gotten through similar anxiety and toooooons more, new anxiety since then." Unfortunately, this comparison exercise didn't yield much fruit because (obv.) I was only operating with half the knowledge in this thought activity. I don't know what it's like to be old, to have rich and varied life experience. I only know what it's like to be young.

Then I realized something: Being young and trying to navigate adult life is like driving down the freeway with only the frame and engine of a car. The other parts are there, in and around the car, that would make driving easier and faster but I don't know how to put them together. And the other, older cars on the road are passing me by or forcing me to try to keep up, to speed up and figure it out, by riding my bumper-frame. Those cars look fully formed, their drivers are handling this freeway with various levels of ease, regardless of the quality of the vehicle. Of course, I'm not the only frame; there are others around me, and we're all being thrust out into this giant road, with its high-pressure elements and somewhat agreed upon rules of how to drive on it well. And the freeway doesn't adjust itself and become less daunting for me because I don't know how to put my car together yet; in fact, I'm pretty positive that I have to build the rest of my vehicle while I'm already driving.

So, that's how I'm feeling about becoming an adult right now. Ill-equipped, and overwhelmed, and frantically curious about how the older and wiser became the impressive, less terrified of adulthood, people that they are today.