5 Signs You Are Emotionally Mature When It Really Counts

You can exhibit emotional maturity that's way advanced for your age.

Growing up emotionally isn’t exactly the same as how we physically age over time. You may be a full-fledged adult already but still have the emotional level of someone who’s way younger. Consequently, you can exhibit emotional maturity that’s way advanced for your age. Here’s how you’ll know you’re emotionally grown (or at least growing) up:

You fail, you learn, and then you improve.

In college, it’s pretty normal for people to fail. A lot. And it’s also normal to feel so lost and dejected after experiencing failures, especially if it’s your first F. When you encounter a bump on the road to graduation (aka you failed a test, or worse, a class), you allow yourself to bask in the negative emotions so you could consequently flush them out of your system, you look at your situation from a different perspective and determine what could be remedied, and then you proceed with Oplan: Get Back On Track. You don’t just wallow in self-pity, nor do you ignore the negative emotions that come with failing.  


You don’t spontaneously bail on your important obligations under the guise of “self-care.”

Yes, it’s totally okay to refuse an invitation to go watch a movie with friends after school if you feel like your body can’t take it anymore. It’s totally fine if you say no to spearheading a major org project if you feel like you’ve already got a lot on your plate. Self-care, after all, is a priority. There will also be times when you can't avoid canceling at the last minute, but using self-care as a convenient reason when you knowingly procrastinated could also just be a sign of you not owning up to a mistake.

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If you're prone to this, understanding WHY you procrastinate is key. An nytimes.com article describes procrastination as a tendency to get rid of the present obstacles instead of thinking ahead and focusing on how it will affect the bigger picture, a phenomenon they call the "amygdala hijack." Those who tend to procrastinate are more focused on removing what is hassle at the moment, even if the consequences could lead to an even bigger problem to deal with in the future. We may think that avoiding the hassle of commitments is a form of self-care, but emotionally mature people would know that it's not always the case and would focus more on the long-term effects of the action instead.


You analyze your situation before you react.

IRL reactions aren’t like the buttons we have on Facebook posts—you can’t just un-click the ‘Like’ button to remove your reaction. Once you give out a response to a certain situation, you can’t just take it back. Emotionally mature people know that it’s important to think about how to respond to certain people and instances before you actually externalize it. For instance, it might suck that your parents are being unreasonable for not letting you hang out with friends, or that a certain friend of yours is letting slip a secret you had told them, but before you lash out and subtweet them on social media, think about whether your reactions will only worsen the situation.

More than that, emotionally grounded individuals know that venting out emotions is important, but that there is always a proper avenue or place to do it.


You don’t get jealous or intimidated by other people's success, especially your friends’.

When your study buddy gets the highest grade in an exam, you neither feel overshadowed by their small victory, nor do you feel like you’re intellectually lacking just because they got a higher score than you. You genuinely feel happy for their achievements and cheer them on, the way they are rooting for you, too.

You are able to take constructive criticism with grace.

As a student, you won’t be able to please everyone around you, and you certainly will have room for lots of improvement. When a professor offers you constructive criticism about your thesis, you accept graciously without feeling like their opinions are an attack to your entire persona.









About the author
Mylene Mendoza
Candy Staff Writer

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If you know me, and know me well, I am not the biggest fan of idyllic lifestyles. With a Type A personality, I act immediately upon whatever challenge that needs to be addressed. I actually enjoy keeping my mind preoccupied: doing university work in my favourite cafe then running errands around town, grocery shopping here, updating my accounts there, photocopying documents on the way down the street - all just in time before having a glass of champagne at the bar with my friends come evening.

And so, you could imagine my bewilderment when the next challenge to be faced was an extensive self-quarantine protocol. I didn’t know what to do when my greatest responsibility in this situation was to do nothing at all. My first few attempts to combat my consternation were very much rooted in distraction and imagination. My distractions involved conducting research, writing songs, calling family and friends, filming videos, and eating chocolate! My imaginations and fantasies were centred on travelling, shopping, even clubbing (which I rarely do) for when they find a cure to COVID-19. I did anything and everything that could be considered constructive in order to pass the time, mainly hoping I could just undertake the basic human necessities to survive - that is, eat and sleep the day through - until the next day comes, until the world is closer to becoming a better place, until quarantine ends, until my flight follows through, until I see my family and friends again.

Days in self-isolation and suspended flights turned to weeks and turned to months. By the third extension here in Spain where I study Fashion Business, I had to tell myself this shall be my new normal now, that I was blessed to be healthy, that I was tired of merely existing and missed what it was like to actually live - even if just within four walls. Little by little, I began to find significance in the simple occurrences of the day: the soft glare of the rising sun beaming golden streaks through my bedroom window upon waking up, the fragrance of freshly washed bed sheets that I had painstakingly hung to fit a relatively small clothes rack without crumpling them, the crunch and tanginess of warm toasted bread topped with raspberry marmalade, the buzzing sound of a phone call from home just waiting to be answered, to the caress of a fuzzy sweater to keep warm at night. I realised, “What pleasures to be enjoyed in the pause of slow living!” Through this continued pause, which I loathed at first, I began to appreciate each moment of the day rather than wish it would pass more swiftly, moments I had overlooked so often before the lockdown. I started to find that the challenge of self-isolation was never to pause both the regular routines of life as well as the positive emotions that came with these - as initially, I thought it meant to pause all happiness, so as to withstand a time of endurance in hopes for a better tomorrow, much like a form of delaying gratification. Life is just too fragile these days to delay gratification any further.

Life has paused, but it has not stopped. Believe that like any punctuation mark in a sentence, the pause will provide the right timing of things to take place. Till then, let us not waste our time waiting. Instead, we could be in the moment, seek substance in simplicity (that is, in what we already have), And enjoy the pleasure in pause. “Practice the Pause. When in doubt, pause. When angry, pause. When tired, pause. When stressed, pause. And when you pause, pray.”

They say time heals all wounds, but it has been ages - is heartbreak exempted?

I have forgotten when was the last time we shared a smile - the last time when I saw the glow in your eyes and the last time when you whispered an I love you to me. I have forgotten when, but here I am - writing to you again.

I do not know if you will read this or you will just add this one to my proses and poems that you left unread, but you see, I am still hoping. I am mailing the pain of us to the gods out there - hoping they can take the pain away. I should have gotten over you, but instead of forgetting and accepting our ending, I am writing about us in tissue sheets, carving about us on trees, telling about us on the back of my journals, hoping that a thousand or a million write ups about us, can make me forget about what happened.

I am writing, waiting for the point where I can no longer write anymore, for I have none to tell - but when? I have nothing in me anymore, but the memories of us - and no matter how hard I try put those to its own grave, the memories grow back like lilies in the swamp - painful and beautiful at the same time.

No matter how hard I try to silence those and put it at the back of my mind, those ring back, playing like the favorite song we used to listen. They say heartbreaks turn into poetry and that is what happening to us - but poetry should be dulcet and dreamy, why does ours sound like pain and agony? They say time heals all wounds, but it has been ages - is heartbreak exempted? Darling, I guess not.

Anne Luna A day ago
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