My Two-Cents: Peter-Pan Syndrome
The other day, I caught myself (or more like it, my memories caught me) in a spiral. Not one of negative nature, but rather one of reminiscence. If I had to guess what spurred it – it was probably due to my little sister. Since we live in different cities, she has become one of my frequent phone calls. Which pairs well with my current condition as a Yapp-a-holic. Which isn’t a bad holic to be, if you think about all the other holicisms you could take a stab at. But any-who, on this particular call, she was walking to class at Hamilton Hall (a building I’ve spent countless hours at in the past four years). The only building that topped my time card above Hamilton was Love Library. Or maybe Brother’s Bar and Grill (but that’s a story for another time). So after we hung up and she went to her class and I to mine, I couldn’t help but feel as if my mind was amiss.
How is it possible that I was where she was, states away, just a year ago? How was it possible that I was so happy to be where I currently was, but also missed the feelings and routines of what was starting to feel like a lifetime ago? Am I getting fucking old? I haven’t even hit my Jordan year and last weekend I found myself opting to stay in to do a puzzle, watch Good Will Hunting, and accidentally start crying at the end of the movie in realization of how fucking beautiful life is. Damn you Robin Williams! And White Wine! (I am participating in this Dry February Fad… where I only drink dry whites.) But any-who yet again — There are parts of college I look back at with rose-tinted glasses. It was not all butterflies and rainbows. But my judgment of the time is clouded by the positive, warm feelings towards the person it molded me into. I left college with a slightly less functioning liver and the self-efficacy level necessary to go fuck shit up wherever I so desired (in a positive fuck-shit-up-type-of-way). And this is why I miss it so much sometimes, yet find myself simultaneously so happy where my feet are. What is this feeling? It isn’t bad, but I’d still like to define it! After some thought (and observations of too-sloppy and too-old-to-be-sloppy drunks) I put the tail on the donkey: I was feeling was Anti-Peter-Pan Syndrome. But before I can describe the aforementioned, I need to describe its juxtaposition: Peter-Pan Syndrome.
Peter-Pan Syndrome is often used to describe adults who refuse to grow up, clinging to their youthful whims and irresponsibility, avoiding the demands and realities of adulthood. These individuals become comfort sluts — clinging to a never-ending adolescence, resistant to the responsibilities that come with life's progression. They stay in the proverbial Neverland, suspended in a state of eternal childhood, and more often than not — refuse to learn to handle their alcohol! To quote the movie Animal House, "Fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life son." (This is one of my favorite movies because whenever something bad happens, the characters just throw a Toga Party. In this case, it is totally cool to have Peter-Pan Syndrome if you keep doing rad shit, like Toga Parties, in lieu of responsibilities.)
On the contrary, Anti-Peter-Pan Syndrome is a different hand of cards. It’s not a refusal to grow up; rather, it’s the paradoxical combination of sorrow and longing for what was while also appreciating who you have evolved and changed into. It’s the bittersweet recognition that life is moving forward, and in doing so, you're leaving behind pieces of yourself that were once central to your identity. And the places and people who helped you find your so-called “identity” – whether it be an accountant, teacher, cosmetologist, social worker, or a person who sticks their hands into your mouth all day (in my case). By combating Peter-Pan Syndrome with its opposite, you can develop a deep and sometimes conflicting appreciation for the past. And further, for the past version of yourself who was still figuring things out, still carefree, and still carrying a certain naivety card in his/her/their back pocket. A card that enabled you to make mistakes and grow (up) from them. A card that had dual function as a passport when the time came for you to fly out of Neverland.
In my current experience, the transition to post-grad wasn’t just about “external” changes. (And that probably had some to do with the fact that my post-grad isn’t a job but rather more school.) Internal changes were the piece of the puzzle I didn’t fully account for: the process of untangling the person I used to be from the person I’m becoming. Which can be hard at times – but it becomes a lot easier when you remove the needle from the haystack, and put it into a ball of yarn instead. That metaphorical haystack being accepting who you were, and the ball of yarn being letting go of that person in preparation for who you will become in the next stage of life.
