8 Ways Labyrinth Somehow Prepared Me for Adult Life

I truly couldn't tell you exactly how many times I've watched Labyrinth over the years, especially when I was growing up.

Like a lot of children who grew up in the '80s, 10-year-old Shannon practically wore out our VHS copy, and understandably so. It had everything my younger self apparently needed in her life — goblins, talking creatures, impossible architecture, David Bowie wearing... well, whatever you would call those fucking pants, and just enough weirdness to make my weird little imagination feel right at home.

I watched it probably hundreds of times because it was so magical. These days, I still watch it from time to time, especially when I need a really strong hit of childhood nostalgia. But I'm also totally here for how well the film frames the challenges that were just ahead for a young girl on the cusp of semi-adulthood in 1986.

Because time (and a real knack for overthinking) have taught me that that's what Sarah was really doing the whole time — practicing for an adulthood that was right around the corner.

1. Even long journeys start with one small decision

When Sarah first arrives at the labyrinth, she doesn't stand outside until she has everything figured out. She doesn't pull out a conveniently labeled map to calculate the fastest route, or spend three months watching productivity videos about optimal goblin-defeating strategies, either.

She just goes right ahead and walks through the gate, because what the hell else is she going to do?

We adults all feel like we're supposed to know exactly how something will unfold before taking the first step. We wait until we feel completely prepared to start writing that book, planting a new garden, changing careers, or finally trying that thing we've been talking ourselves into and out of since approximately 2009.

But that's an excellent way to miss out on half your life (or at least your youth, because I've apparently learned better as I drift deeper into middle age).

Almost every meaningful change in my own life started with one small, slightly awkward decision to just pull up my big girl panties and dig in. Sometimes, the larger picture only becomes visible once you're already moving. Good times.

2. Not every voice you hear deserves your attention

Poor Sarah can't walk ten feet without another know-it-all confidently explaining why she should go left instead of right. And to be fair, some of the creatures in the labyrinth genuinely do want to help, but others have extremely questionable motives. A very select few are spectacularly wrong all the way around.

Pretty much life in a nutshell (including life online these days).

Growing older has taught me that wisdom isn't about collecting as many opinions as possible. It's about learning whose advice actually deserves a place in your headspace. Think friends you value, mentors you trust, and hopefully your own lived experience after a certain point.

People are apparently made of opinions. You're not required to listen, and in most cases? I recommend that you don't.

3. Wonder doesn't have an expiration date

One of the saddest myths one's looming adulthood floats out there for a young person's consideration is the idea that wonder belongs exclusively to children.

Want to grow up and do what you want, like the adults do? Well, you need to stop watching cartoons, looking forward to Halloween, liking Barbies, and pretty much anything else that makes life worth waking up for when you're a kid. Thankfully, I knew enough not to listen, even as a kid who at least sort of cared what people around me thought of my choices.

Even at 50, I still frequently find myself standing outside, ridiculously excited because a new crop of morning glories finally opened or an unknown bird decided to randomly visit my yard. I still rearrange all my fun desk decor once in a while just because. And I very much still possess the ability to lose entire afternoons inside a really great story.

For whatever reason, I never lost my sense of wonder. (One of the perks of being on the autism spectrum, maybe.) It just became more intentional more of the time. Children stumble across enchantment because the world is new, but adults discover it because they remember to keep looking for it.

4. Imperfect companions are sometimes the best ones

Most of Sarah's traveling companions would make for a spectacularly dysfunctional group chat when you think of them as a collective.

Hoggle lies like a dirty rug when he's frightened. Sir Didymus possesses enough confidence for the entire cast, while often also forgetting to bring common sense along for the ride. And Ludo? Well, Ludo is pretty much perfect as far as I'm concerned, and I refuse to hear arguments to the contrary.

Together, they somehow become exactly the friend group Sarah needs in her corner. I've noticed that the allies you might acquire as an adult can be very much the same.

Maybe your mileage varies, but I've literally never formed a meaningful connection with someone who is ideal in every way. Like me, the people I value most might fuck up a lot, but they show up anyway. Some of them have driven me completely up the wall at times, but they were also perpetually willing to apologize and learn.

Because perfection is for statues. Loyalty is what you really want in your traveling companions.

5. The hardest labyrinth usually lives in your head

For all the bizarre creatures, talking doors, and gravity-defying staircases present throughout Labyrinth, adulthood has taught me that Sarah's biggest obstacles were actually internal. They were the many moments of doubt, distraction, and frustration she had, not to mention her knack for believing things that simply weren't true.

Once again. Smells like adulthood. Unfortunately.

I spend a lot more time wrestling with my thoughts than I do life's actual dragons. I still often feel like I'll never figure things out, that everyone else has a secret internal map I was born without, or that taking one wrong turn means I've ruined everything literally forever.

I am a very creative person, but I may always be fighting my natural tendency to write vivid horror fiction in my sleep about my own future.

When I manage to stay grounded, I actually remember that changing my perspective is often a lot more important than changing my circumstances. Best way I've discovered so far to stop walking into the same dead ends over and over.

6. The most beautiful offers are rarely the best ones

So, Jareth. Yeah, that fucking guy.

Yes, David Bowie is impossibly charismatic, and yes, he sings wonderfully. (Labyrinth turned me into an instant super fan at 10, and I have faithfully remained one throughout my life.) Yes, he's everything childhood cinematic crushes are made of, as well.

But despite a stubborn inability to think so as a kid, he is also offering Sarah a spectacularly bad deal. His promises sound appealing because they're designed to, because who doesn't want to hear shit like this:

• Forget your responsibilities.
• Stay here.
• Let someone else take control.
• Life can become one endless masquerade where everything is beautiful, and nothing is difficult.

Don't I wish. And for a long time, I thought that would really be the way to go in life.

Adulthood responded by introducing me to plenty of real-world versions of that bargain. Quick success (in theory, anyway), easy answers, chasing appearances instead of meaning, building a life that looks good from the outside while quietly making you miserable on the inside.

But the older I get, the more I admire Sarah for recognizing that freedom isn't actually about escaping reality. It's about choosing it your way.

7. Home is something you create

When I first saw Labyrinth, I was literally 10, so I still took every story at face value. In other words, I thought the ending was about getting home (hopefully before your parents realize how bad you fucked up while they were out).

These days, I think it's more about understanding what "home" actually means in the first place.

Because Sarah ultimately returns to the same house she left. Same room sanctuary full of books and imagination, same parents who think she should be thrilled to play babysitter every weekend, same poor dog who has to sleep in the garage because he stinks when it rains. Toby still probably screams his fool head off at all times.

It's Sarah that's changed, and the reality of that hits a lot differently once you've spent years trying (and sometimes failing) to build a viable adult life of your own.

Home stopped being just an address to me a long time ago as a result. It's become the office I've filled with science specimens, art, and wonderful witchy things. It's the garden outside that rewards my patience with flowers and vegetables, and it's the familiar act of making meals to enjoy with someone I love before maybe settling in for a movie or two.

None of those things integrated themselves into my existence overnight, nor did I ever move to the "right" address or rid myself of all the unwanted responsibilities that always felt so unfair. I actually live in my childhood home these days, the very place I thought I needed to move far away from before I could ever truly be happy.

But I'm happy here now for reasons I couldn't really have predicted when I was still just a kid, even though there will likely always be things about life that could be better.

8. You have more power than you think

"You have no power over me."

As a kid, I thought it was the dumbest thing ever that Sarah "could never remember that line," because it's a really, really easy line. As an adult, though, I fully get that Sarah's inability to remember really doesn't have much to do with the line itself.

It's her personal power she's having trouble remembering, if she's even discovered it in the first place yet.

Life is great at making people feel like they have zero power over much of anything in their lives, especially these days. If you even have a job, it probably sucks. Money is literally always tight no matter how hard you work, and through it all, we get to hear constantly about how all of that is somehow our fault. It's easier than ever to confuse your life circumstances with your actual identity.

But every so often (if you're lucky), something reminds you that while you can't control every twist in the labyrinth, you can always choose how you move through it. You can decide what deserves your attention, what values guide your decisions, and what kind of life you're building toward each day.

It's choosing yourself, no matter how many shiny crystal balls Jareth juggles in your face.

Through dangers untold...

No matter how old I get, I always eventually come back to Labyrinth like an old friend. And it does what so many good stories do when we carry them with us for decades.

When I change, the stories I love change with me. The lessons and takeaways, too, so I get that this film was never just about goblins, riddles, talking door knockers, or David Bowie's questionable pant choices for me.

It's one of many stories that helped me learn to trust myself, find beauty in unlikely places, actively choose wonder over cynicism, and finally discover that the way home (figurative or otherwise) is almost never a straight line.