the feminine urge to have lived a full life by 25
on yearning for the past, regretting time lost, the pressure to achieve, the fear of growing up, and the resolve to dive in
I recently watched Booksmart (2019, dir. Olivia Wilde) for what was probably the 7th or 8th time. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s about these overachieving high schoolers who realize they missed out because they were too focused on their studies, so they decide to crash the craziest party of the year the night before graduation; high jinks ensue. There are 2 scenes that always make me deeply emotional; the graduation scene when uptight and judgemental Molly (played by Beanie Feldstein) gives her speech and sees her classmates for the first and last time, and the pool scene when shy and reserved Amy (played by Kaitlyn Dever) jumps into the pool and swims around, looking at everyone and everything in absolute wonder, realizing how beautiful her life could be if she just dove in.
The pool scene in particular is especially marvelous, with the perfect song acting as a thematic backdrop for Amy’s character as she basks in this ethereal environment. Now, as I said, I tend to always get emotional at these two scenes, but this time around I shed tears. Then I finished the movie, hopped in the shower, and cried some more as I watched the water wash my conditioner down the drain. Afterward, I did my nightly routine of scrolling my phone to prevent a thought from occurring until I get so tired that I fall asleep. But I woke up and the feelings from the pool scene were still there.
I was a bit of a precocious child. From kindergarten, I could read at least 3 years past my grade level. I was put in advanced classes and gained immediate entrance into my school district’s gifted program beginning in 2nd grade. I showed a talent for many things, including writing, art, and several musical instruments. Teachers always told my parents I was a delight to have in class but that there was one thing holding me back from reaching my full potential; I never participated. Ask me to read a chapter book in one day and I’d gladly do it. Ask me to raise my hand and answer questions? Forget it.
At school, I never spoke unless I was spoken to. Group activities and class projects and presentations filled me with dread. However, I wasn’t a complete shut-in. Somehow I managed to make 3 amazing friends and we shared some great memories, like going to dances, losing our shit at concerts, sneaking all kinds of food into the movies (like an entire cake and roast chicken wrapped in tin foil), and annoying our favorite teachers. I enjoyed my life but I also hated it and wanted to get out and see the world and make something of myself. From an early age, I had glorious dreams of success. A prevalent one was attending university in NYC, studying abroad for a semester in Europe, and eventually living in NYC and kicking ass as a fashion designer/stylist/artist/journalist/photographer/creative director/writer/makeup artist (I had a lot of career interests, okay?).
It was always fun to dream about these possibilities but actually making them happen was another thing. I thought I had time to make up my mind, create a game plan, and do the work to get me on that flight to NYC or some other city where my dream school was located. But somewhere along the way, the momentum that youth gave me was lost. I lost interest in school activities. I did well enough in my classes to pass but I rarely went the extra mile anymore. Before I started my senior year of high school, I’d look at college websites and picture myself on campus, but it never went beyond that.
The weekend before my senior year officially started, I was bedridden with anxiety. Reality was starting to hit; it was actually time for me to make these things happen and dreaming would no longer suffice. Once senior year started, I put off applying to colleges and listened to my classmates’ acceptances on the morning announcements with sadness, shame, and jealousy. Partially out of fear and the fact that I genuinely didn’t know what I wanted to do, I decided I would take a gap year and people were not happy about it. Everyone told me I’d lose the momentum I had, that it would be harder to get the motivation to apply to colleges next year, and that I was wasting my potential. My friends were supportive but I imagine my decision worried them as well. To their credit, there were some amazing teachers who told me a gap year was okay, as long as I had a plan.
But I did not have a plan. I kept telling myself I had all this time to figure things out when really, I was trying to use this time in order to stop time. I think that’s been my problem ever since.
It’s been 8 years since I graduated high school, although in my mind it only feels like 2 or 3. Since then, I’ve managed to figure out what I want: I want to be an author. Not just an author, but an author successful enough to be financially independent off writing alone (yes, I’m aware that in this capitalist hellscape that we’re in, that’s completely delusional unless you’re Stephen King). Jumping off this decision, I enrolled in university and graduated with a BFA in Creative Writing. I’ve stuck my toe in the door of freelance copy and content writing.
But that’s all I can say.
I haven’t worked on writing of any kind nearly as much as I should. I’ve only traveled to see family and the one time I traveled with friends, I was overcome with anxiety for nearly the whole trip and it caused some arguments. My college was online, so I didn’t have the typical college experience. I’ve lost some friends, made new ones, and am trying to make new ones again. Last year, I finally tried dating (read all about how that went here) but haven’t tried since. I was later than most people in getting my driver’s license and a car, so I couldn’t even explore my own city as much as other people my age. Since getting a car, I have made the effort to go out more, even if it’s by myself, but that’s become a problem, too–I am now so comfortable by myself that going out with others elicits varying levels of panic depending on the person and situation. I still live at home and while there’s nothing wrong with that, especially in the times we’re in, I stay up wondering if I could’ve had my own place by now if I had tried harder. I think about what my life could be like right now in general if I had tried harder from the beginning. If I had kept that momentum.
So that’s why I cry at Molly’s graduation speech in Booksmart. Because even though I’m aware that I’m romanticizing a shitty time in my life through the veil of nostalgia, the potential when you’re 18 and in a cap and gown is so much more palpable than when you’re still in the same town at 26. And that’s why I cry at Amy diving into the pool because for basically my entire life, I’ve been content to just dream and not jump in. I’ve lost all this time to do things with my life and I only have myself to blame. I wish I could go back in time and yell at myself to work harder, to push past my fears and anxieties. People younger than me have done more things, have gone farther, or at the very least are headed somewhere. I’ve let my twenties pass me by and now I have a short time left to do something, anything before the age of 30, whether it be finishing my book, getting a boyfriend, or most importantly, a stable income.
I know 30 is a myth but it’s hard to free myself from generations’ worth of indoctrination about your twenties being the best years of your life and that your thirties are for settling down and beginning a life of domestic monotony. We’re supposed to spend our twenties figuring things out but we’re also supposed to have a plan. We’re supposed to spend our twenties working hard but we’re also supposed to go wild and create amazing memories. As a late bloomer, it’s especially hard because I feel like I’m in arrested development, where I can’t grow and mature until I do and achieve certain things, yet I am afraid to try. So then I imagine myself at 30 and beyond, still not having done anything–an adult perpetually sitting at the kids’ table.
Another aspect of this combination of fears and regrets is my gender. Women are held to a higher standard when it comes to, well, nearly everything. From a young age, we’re expected to mature faster than boys. In academics and the professional world, there’s a glass ceiling we must break and there’s a constant pressure to be perfect. If we want a career and kids, there’s only so much time to get as far as we can professionally because once the kids do come, we’re less likely to be promoted. We have to spend our twenties working insanely hard just to get half as far as our male counterparts; the gap is even wider when you include factors such as race, social class, etc. But we also have to spend our twenties living it up and trying to find our soulmates. We have to do it this way because by 30 (and even younger) we are considered “past our prime.” It’s impossible for one person to do all of this yet we bend to the pressure to appear as if we have it all, and more importantly, have it all younger than everyone else. It’s only made worse with social media, where we are privy every day to opinions and comparisons.
Friends I follow on Instagram travel, have jobs they love, live in cities they’ve always wanted to live in, have met the love of their lives, or are at least out there on the dating scene. I know social media is a highlight reel; this awareness does nothing for me. Because even if they’re going through shitty things behind the scenes, they still have these amazing things to highlight.
The people I love are growing without me, passing me by, and I want to grow with them but I’m scared and I know they’re scared too but they push past it and deal with it because there’s no other option. So then I feel sick and ashamed for feeling this way because I know that part of my aversion to growing up is made possible by the privilege I have and I hold onto it for dear life. So then I am afraid to meet new people and form relationships with them because eventually, they’ll realize this about me and pass me by too. My twenties feel like a tug of war where I’m the rope being pulled back and forth by the pressure to grow up and the desire to cling to the past.
When I really think about it, though, I don’t want to go back to the past. Some parts of it are comfortable and warm and inviting but other parts are painful and embarrassing. All of it has made me who I am now. I don’t even want to be the person I was two weeks ago, much less four, six, or ten years. Who knows if I would like the person I would be now if I had done things differently? Sure, I could’ve worked harder and had my novel finished by now, but would it have been any good? I’ve discovered so many new writers I love who have inspired and influenced me and now I can’t imagine writing my novel without them. I could’ve tried dating earlier but then it wouldn’t have led me to the person I met last year, and while things with him weren’t meant to be and it caused me a lot of pain, I never once regretted it. I could’ve gone to college right after high school, but would I have still picked writing as a major or would I have thrown in the towel prematurely, weighed down by the pressure to pick something stable? I could have moved to a different city but staying has led me to find a new love for my hometown and form friendships here with people I love and cherish.
Cue the usual: Comparison is the thief of joy. Nobody actually has their shit together. Time is made up. Alan Rickman was 41 when he made his film debut. Regina King was 50 when her feature directorial debut One Night in Miami came out. At 85, Jane Fonda is arguably at her best in every aspect. And who knows where Molly and Amy actually ended up after the events of Booksmart? Molly was for sure on track to have a nervous breakdown, I’ll tell you that much.
I can cry about time lost and feel ashamed of myself for not doing more but the time is passing me by no matter what I do, so I can either continue doing the bare minimum just to get by, or I can jump in and go after the life I want. It’s going to be scary and messy and will hurt and suck at times but it can also be beautiful and marvelous. If I don’t do it, what other choice is there?
This was absolutely marvelous. I found myself shouting “yes!”, “this!”, “yupppp” in my head throughout the entirety of this piece. I relate so much and while there is necessarily one magical solution, I think the reminders that you included at the end are what push us to realize we are in control. I’m sorry that you have these feelings, but also find comfort that this is a shared experience by many! Thank you for writing and sharing this piece, I know it’s from months ago but I’m sending good energy your way!
Wow, I have never related to anything so much. I feel the exact same in that I need to have done absolutely everything before my 20’s are over and feeling like I’ve been wasting so much time. It’s a hard feeling to get past, especially when we’ve always been told that everything stops/goes downhill after 30. Love your honesty! Thanks for sharing :).