You want to know if it happened to you? There's a test. Three questions. It takes about nine seconds and it's rude.
One. Fun became "maybe next weekend."
You used to do things because they sounded good. That was the entire approval process. Sounds good, going. Now everything gets deferred into a vague future weekend that has never once arrived in recorded history. "Maybe next weekend" is not a plan. It's a polite way of saying no while sounding like a person who still says yes.
Two. You started running a risk assessment on everything.
Someone invites you out, and before your mouth opens, a full committee convenes in your brain. What's the weather? What time would we get back? What do I have tomorrow? How much energy do I actually have? You used to just grab your keys. Now you're an insurance adjuster evaluating a claim on your own evening.
You used to just grab your keys. Now you're an insurance adjuster evaluating a claim on your own evening.
Three. Curiosity turned into calculation.
You used to wake up curious. Something might happen today. Now you wake up and immediately start doing math on how expensive the day is going to be. Not in money. In you. You're budgeting yourself before your feet hit the floor.
Three for three? You didn't get old. You went into survival mode and nobody told you, including you.
And here's the part that stings: you've got a whole vocabulary for it. You call it maturity. You call it priorities. You call it knowing your limits, which is a phrase people deploy right before canceling on their friends for the fourth time. But strip the words off and look underneath. Low energy. A fire that got turned down so slowly you never saw the dimmer move. And a quiet anxiety that follows you around like a dog you didn't ask for.
That's not wisdom. That's a battery problem wearing a very convincing costume.