A bit of both for me. Whenever I dropped a bollock in work or whereever, my head used to go down and I’d be waiting for the hairdryer treatment like I was waiting outside the headmaster’s office.

Now, if some cockwomble decides to mass-email someone with a passive aggressive email about “could the person who…” and it’s quite clearly my mistake, I take great pleasure in absolutely owning it, smashing that reply-all button, and explaining in painful detail how yes it was my fuck up; yes I did do it with good intentions but hey things go sideways sometimes; and yes abso-fucking-lutely thank you for your shitty email that has had all the effect of a silent fart.

I think the best part of adulting is that you can make no mistakes and still lose (yeah Picard boiiii), and realising that nobody’s going to care about it in a week’s time.

I’d point out that taking responsibility for your actions doesn’t necessarily mean fixing them on your own.

It’s often more difficult (and more adult) to acknowledge that you’ve dug a hole for yourself that you can’t escape from on your own and ask for help.

Saying this as the parent of young adult children that are adulting well, but still need to ask for help. Also as the old adult child of my parents who must still force himself to ask them for help.