When Curiosity Strikes

If you’ve ever seen the movie Big Daddy with Adam Sandler, then you know one of the most iconic lines…

“Hip… Hip Hop… Hip Hop Anonymous?”

And if you have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about, then you should probably stop reading and go watch the movie.

In Big Daddy, the name Scuba Steve was born. My dad started calling me Scuba Steve (apparently because I had big feet… but for the record, I grew into them).

Now that I’ve provided you with a significant education in movie literacy, let me explain why this matters.

I never expected navigating the healthcare world for the first time would make me think of Big Daddy.

But it did.

The doctors office called my mom.

HIPAA.

Or, as I like to call it now, HIP HOP HIPAA.

The doctor “accidentally” called the wrong number from my profile and left a voicemail to my mom regarding my appointments.

I was pissed. And that’s to put it lightly.

Not because they made a mistake. My career is also in healthcare and I too make mistakes. We all do.

I was pissed because they called my MOM.

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that my anger had very little to do with the actual phone call.

I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I’ve lived in a new city, on my own, for the past 8 years. So when I got my new job and enrolled in my own health insurance, it felt like another small accomplishment in the life I’ve built.

I chose my own doctor. I made my own appointment. I was taking care of my own health.

And then my mom got the voicemail.

And suddenly, I wasn’t 24 anymore.

I was Scuba Steve.

I was a kid again.

It was almost ridiculous how quickly it happened. One phone call and suddenly I felt like the independence I’d spent years building had disappeared for a moment. That’s why I was so angry. Not that my mom knew. It felt like, for a moment, this adult life that I have worked so hard to build could be reduced to an old version of me.

Why did this small moment make me so angry? I took a moment to reflect and think about it. I realized that underneath this anger was my pride.

Pride in the fact that I have become someone who is independent.

This is the strange part about growing up.

I’ll never stop being my parents kid. I’ll never stop being Scuba Steve. And honestly, I don’t want to.

I love that part of me. And sometimes I wish I could give her a hug.

I love that my dad gave me a ridiculous nickname because I had big feet. I love that there are people in my life who remember me before I knew who I was going to become. I love that I can still be my parents daughter.

Where I still struggle is wanting to be seen for who I’ve become.

I shouldn’t question myself or try to prove to myself (or other people) that I have grown up. Because I have.

Maybe growing up isn’t about proving that you’re no longer a child. Maybe it’s about realizing that the child you were and the adult you’ve become don’t have to compete with each other.

Growing up doesn’t mean leaving your younger self behind. It means learning how to carry her with you. Acknowledging her when she shows up. Giving her grace. Laughing with her. And in those moments realizing, wow, look how far I have come. Look at how beautiful life and growing up can be.