Here’s a perfect playlist to go with this post:
I ran away for a couple weeks.
It’s nice to romanticize the idea of moving away. I’ll run away and become a smart, bookish kind of girl. The girl who writes poetry and uses ultra thin tampons because my period flow is ultra light. I’ll get really good at surfing, so good that I’ll get sponsored and never have to work a day outside my modeling career for Roxy Surf. But, I won’t be like every other surfer girl model, I’ll also write poetry and read so many books – novels, in fact. What’s that, you say? Many surfer girl models read and write lots too? OK. Well, maybe I’m exactly like the other girls except I am also extremely funny. And that’s just the beginning of what would happen if I ran away.
I joked with my friend on the phone, “I’m one minor setback away from moving to an island.”
“Aren’t we all?” they responded.
When I try to make my joke to a different friend, he asks, “But what about your weekly run club?”
I’m not really running away from Los Angeles or my community there. Why would I run away from something that consistently grounds me and surrounds me with love? (This is a question I’ve asked most of the men I’ve dated because I am the most grounding and loving woman in the United States of America).
But I’m not even running away, OK? I’m taking a step away…. A step away to gain perspective… Yeah, that sounds right.
They say your twenty-seventh year marks the start of your Saturn’s Return. Or maybe it’s your twenty-eighth. I can’t find something consistent online so bear with me (Yes, it’s bear not bare, I Googled it). Your Saturn’s Return is an astrology thing where you end a chapter of your life and enter another. It happens only three times in your life. So for me, per this article on The Cut, it means I’m ending my youth and entering my adulthood. RIP to my youth! Aw, she died so young. It’s also a time where you begin to define who you are based on your inner self, rather than how society sees you. I think.
Now, I only pay attention to astrology when it’s fueling my own delusions. He dumped me because of the full moon? Yes, of course, that's the only thing that makes sense! I’m making mistakes at work because of retrograde? As long as it’s not because of my addiction to my phone! I’ll come across a fun, financial surprise at the end of the month because of Jupiter’s placement in my sun moon? I always knew Jupiter was my guy! Maybe it’s all very convenient that I am embracing this idea of Saturn’s Return as I am feeling some of the growing pains of adulthood, but it’s comforting so embrace I shall.
My friend has this great story about being out with our other friend on her twenty-seventh birthday. It was one of the last hot nights of summer in LA and they were drinking in a weird part of Hollywood. The energy was warm and fun. Their small group got up to leave at the same time as another group of people getting up to leave, and in that other group was a beautiful woman in a strappy silk halter dress. The beautiful woman in a strappy silk halter dress overheard that it was our friend’s twenty-seventh birthday. As the beautiful woman drifted away into the night, she turned around, pulled the strap of her strappy silk halter dress and flashed her breasts to our friend and went, “welcome to your Saturn's return, baby.”
I love this story because it’s a great story. I also love it because I think it’s the perfect embodiment of what this transitional age period, your Saturn's Return if you will, feels like. Edging on turning thirty feels a lot like seeing a topless woman for the first time. It’s exciting, arousing, low-key miraculous and high-key terrifying.
(Did me mentioning edging do anything for u? No? Ok, JW. Sry.)
My growing pains as of late have been me clumsily trying to resettle back into the person I’ve always been. As my twenty-eight birthday approaches** I’ve never felt more connected with my younger self. I was a freaky little kid. No front teeth, strong lisp, loud and adorable. I do have my front teeth now, though one of them is slightly chipped, and my lisp only comes out when I’ve been on the phone too long and I’m tired or I’m singing along to “Seabird” by the Alessi Brothers. I’m still loud and I’m still adorable and I’m still such a little freak. I love attention, I love to laugh, I’m always the sweatiest girl in the room. I love to make up stories and I love to make friends. And obviously, I love to laugh and I love to love. #Live #Laugh #Love
I wonder if Little-Girl-Brit would be stoked on who Twenty-Seven-Year-Old-Brit is. I wonder if she’d laugh at my jokes or think I was trying too hard. I’d probably just have to sneak her a couple hot dogs to win her over, which, for the record, is still all it takes to win me over. I wish I could sit down with her and ask her what she thinks about love and who she loves. She’d probably give me a longwinded speech about hippos, a moist high five and then run off to a mud pit. God, she’s so cool for that.
The first two weeks of my “LA sabbatical” (a trip where I still did work remote the entire time because I can’t afford to take three weeks off work at this point in my life) were spent with an old friend who I’ve found myself connecting more closely with in the last couple years. We talked a lot about friendship, community and love. We joked that my thoughts are ramblings, while hers are musings. It was my absolute bread and butter. The last couple hours we had together were spent driving around trying to find a beach by the airport. Of course, we revisited the topic of love.
I was rambling about that thing in dating when you present your datable self at first, not to say that you are being fake, but you put your best foot forward and that’s who the other person meets. As you get more comfortable and more vulnerable, that first version of you slowly fades into the person you actually are. Usually, that’s how it works.
But then, every so often, you meet a person who doesn’t really give you a choice. They see straight through that first version right away. You have no control over when they get to see which parts of you, because from the jump they just see you and they don’t let you be anyone else around them. It catches you so off guard it stings just a little.
It’s like that scene in Fleabag, you know the one– if you haven’t seen Fleabag, get the hell off my blog, shut your mouth and your laptop and go watch it now. That scene where Fleabag breaks the fourth wall, the Hot Priest breaks it too and asks, “what is that?” He sees a part of her no one else has seen the entire series and she has no choice in the matter: I want that part of you and don’t you dare try and show me anything else.
A couple of days later, I spent the day surfing with a different friend. We sat on the beach together after and watched an extremely mid sunset. I confided in him that for the first time in a long time, dating and the idea of putting myself out there, doesn’t excite me. I whined, “I’ve lost the wind in my sails of my quest for love! And I’ve always loved that quest!”
He then screamed at me gently told me that’s OK, it doesn’t always have to feel exciting. He told me to let myself be excited about the other things. He then yelled at me again encouraged me to get excited about my Substack. He said something like, if you are excited about your writing and the other things that bring you joy, someone will read it or see you being joyful and be excited for you and with you. Truly, disgusting and awful advice. Bad friend! 0/10.
When I was like seven I ran away, or at least tried to run away. I only made it down the driveway to the front gate. It was a very long driveway for a little kid, OK? I got to the gate and cried and cried and cried. I don’t remember why I was so upset but I do remember that I was feeling too much and I had to get away. I packed a bag full of Clementines, grabbed my stuffed hippo and marched off. I didn’t actually want to leave, but I needed to be alone. I sat by the gate and wiped my tears. After what felt like several hours, but was likely fifteen minutes, my mom cruised down the driveway in our 2001 tan Volvo Station Wagon. She rolled down the window and asked, “Do you want McDonalds?”
It feels good to run away and self isolate when what I am feeling is too much and just don’t know what else to do. I am learning that it feels better to run away with maybe just a friend or two by your side. That way you can check in with someone when you are feeling ready to talk about all those feelings that you don’t know what to do with. Aging can feel so overwhelming when you’re staring it straight on. Although, it is pretty exciting to think about whether or not I’ll find a new way to comfort myself in twenty years when the going gets tough, or if I’ll still want to run away and just get McDonalds.
**I’m obviously a gemini and my birthday is June 7th. If you do want to give me a gift I accept kisses on the mouth and cash :-)
Holding on firm to my grasp of my beach chair, hot dog, and reality ❣️