How to Be a Functional Adult Without Actually Functioning: A Survival Guide for the Chronically Unprepared

Being a “functional adult” is largely performative. This survival guide explores the modern dysfunctions of adulthood—from budgeting and mental health to meal prep and social performance—through humorous, brutally honest commentary that offers permission to lower the bar and laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Adulthood: proudly held together by caffeine, denial, and one emotionally unavailable coffee mug.

I used to think adulthood meant owning a blender and getting excited about tax deductions. Then I spent three hours on the floor of my apartment Googling “Can you eat expired hummus if it still smells okay?” while holding a cracker like a hostage negotiator.

This is the kind of article I wish someone had written for me when I turned 30 and realized that my ability to do Wordle in under five tries didn’t count as emotional stability.

So here it is—your permission slip to suck at adulthood… but still survive it.

1. The Morning Routine Is a Cult, and I’m Not Drinking the Smoothie

I wake up at 8:37 AM. Not 8:30, because that would imply discipline. Not 9, because that feels like a cry for help. 8:37 is the time of someone who tried, but got distracted scrolling Zillow listings for homes they’ll never afford.

You’ve seen the productivity bros online—up at 4:45 AM, cold plunge at 5:00, journaling their serotonin by 5:30. By 6:00 AM, they’ve already posted something motivational on LinkedIn like “Winners make their bed.”

I’m sorry. If making your bed is the pinnacle of personal growth, then congratulations—I’ve peaked. I’m a damn guru.

USEFUL TIP: Set your alarm for whatever time gives you just enough buffer to panic-shower and not scream at a barista. That’s your “adult baseline.”

2. Budgeting When You Treat Money Like a Ghost You Don’t Acknowledge

You want to know the state of my finances? I’m a PayPal refund away from spiritual bankruptcy.

Budgeting advice online assumes you’re either married to an accountant or born into oil money. “Put 20% of your income into savings.” Great. I’ll also put 20% into an invisible unicorn fund while I’m at it.

Here’s how I do it:

1. Rent

2. Groceries

3. Subscription I forgot I had since 2017

4. Regret

5. Coffee

TRUST TIP: If you check your bank account and flinch like it’s a jump scare, you’re not alone. That’s just fiscal trauma.

3. Cleaning: Do It Only When Someone’s Coming Over (or You’ve Lost a Pet)

Cleaning is performative. No one actually enjoys it. Marie Kondo lied. Joy is not found in folding underwear into thirds like origami panties. I’m convinced her real secret was a live-in maid and Adderall.

I clean in panic sprints. Someone texts “On my way!” and I transform into a one-man Roomba, slapping everything into the nearest drawer like a raccoon under pressure.

You know how I deep-cleaned my oven last month? I dropped a chicken nugget behind it and couldn’t emotionally move on.

AUTHORITATIVE TIP: If it smells fine and no one’s died, you’re doing just fine. Febreze is cheaper than therapy.

4. The Lie of Meal Prep (or How I Became an Accidental Freegan)

Every influencer tells you to “prep meals for the week!” But when I cook five chicken breast containers on Sunday, I don’t feel like an efficient adult. I feel like a prison chef making sad food for a warden I hate (me).

The fridge becomes a Tupperware graveyard. By Thursday, I’m staring into a translucent tomb of cold rice, wondering how I became a person who eats yogurt with a fork.

Meanwhile, Uber Eats looks at me like I’m a shareholder.

REALISTIC TIP: “Meal prepping” can also mean putting string cheese and grapes in the same drawer and calling it a bento box.

5. The Five-Year Plan Is a Hallucination

I once made a five-year plan. I laminated it. It now lives in a folder between my lease agreement and my expired passport, like a tiny shrine to a version of myself who still believed in structure.

Life laughed.

Now my plan is: 1) Pay the electric bill. 2) Text someone back within a socially acceptable time window. 3) Not die of shame if someone sees my screen time report.

Plans are great until your boss, your ex, or the global economy kicks you in the emotional shin.

EXPERT TIP: Pivoting isn’t failure. It’s jazz. It’s improv. You’re just freestyling your way through capitalism.

6. Networking Is Just Professional Lying with Name Tags

People say networking is the key to success. But for me, networking feels like speed dating where everyone is pretending not to be desperate.

“Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m passionate about growth, scalable systems, and never making eye contact.”

By the third fake laugh and third round of lukewarm Prosecco, I’m Googling “how to fake a family emergency with believable tears.”

MENTALLY UNSTABLE TIP: Networking is not friendship. It’s Tinder for people who want to monetize your LinkedIn connections.

7. Therapy Is Expensive, So I Started Talking to My Coffee Maker

Let’s be honest: most of us don’t do therapy because we’re brave. We do it because we cracked mid-Zoom call and whispered “I’m fine” too many times in a row.

I did BetterHelp for a month and ghosted my therapist like a bad Hinge date. Now, I have a coffee mug that says “Feelings Are Gross” and that’s my emotional support system.

TRUSTWORTHY TIP: You’re not broken. You’re just living in a society that gives out burnout like mints.

8. The Final Secret: Nobody Knows What the Hell They’re Doing, or How to be a Functional Adult

You think your coworker with the standing desk and color-coded Google calendar has it all figured out? Nope. They’re crying in the Trader Joe’s parking lot too. They just wear better khakis while doing it.

The bar is on the floor. You’re here. That’s enough. Don't worry about how to be a functioning adult.

HONEST TAKEAWAY: Adulthood is less about mastering life and more about surviving it with a sense of humor and at least one clean pair of socks.