I Tried to Be 'Mature'—It Broke Me

I don’t know when I started believing that being mature meant swallowing everything that hurt. Maybe it was the way my parents would sigh and say, “Grow up,” every time I got angry or cried. So I tried. I started tracking my reactions like a science experiment: don’t snap, don’t roll your eyes, don’t show you’re tired. I’d apologize before anyone asked, even for things that weren’t my fault. I’d rehearse what to say to teachers, to sound responsible, not dramatic. I’d say no to friends because I had chores or homework or babysitting, and I told myself that was maturity. I kept my room clean, my grades up, my voice steady. But the truth is, it just made me feel hollow. I was so focused on being the version of myself adults wanted—calm, grateful, never impulsive—that I forgot what I actually felt. I’d finish a day and realize I hadn’t laughed or even really spoken. I thought maturity would make things easier. It just made me lonelier. #GrowingPains #EmotionalExhaustion #TeenConfessions #Education