Closer Than They Appear

A story about a rental car... kind of. *Chapter 61*

In 2019 I rented a car. I had one of my own but it was an old beat up 2008 Honda Accord and I was trying to become someone who did not drive that. Blame the amount of self-help I was consuming. You Are A Badass, told me to visit neighborhoods I wanted to live in and take walks, dreaming of the houses I would one day inhabit. Renting a modest sized SUV was $15 a day and I was evolving into a beach girl.

Sun Babe, by Bonnie Lynn Felton, lynnfelton.com

When I arrived at Enterprise, the only models available were newer variations of my very own Honda, the one I could have easily driven to Malibu, saved myself time and money. But no. That simply would not do. In order to experience what it felt like to be my next level self I needed an SUV. Thankfully, there was one at a location close by. I called an Uber, dropped another $20 and was on my way to make my dream of dreaming my dream come true.

I grew up going to the beach once every summer or so with family. Most of my time on these vacations was spent eating bbq chips, drinking virgin strawberry daiquiris and watching TV inside. Occasionally my mother would convince me to head out with the gang and I always had a nice time once I got my feet in the sand and my body lured into the waves. Beach time just isn’t an inherent desire of mine. In my older age, I’ve longed for the languid relaxation of a ‘beach vacay’ but I have no understanding of people’s need to ‘be near water.’ At my core, I am meant for wool blankets, heavy drapes and a light drizzle. Sea air only beneficial in healing a bout of some Victorian flu that’s left me bedridden for weeks. You catch my drift.

Which is why it is hilarious to picture me wearing a bathing suit top under a see-through linen button down and a sheer, floaty skirt while standing in the middle of Hollywood at the Enterprise counter demanding an SUV. It’s called manifesting…or something like that. At 34, I was set on intentionally writing the next chapter of my life and this chapter would be titled, “Brittany is a Fit Beach Girl.”

I loved the idea of being a wellness girlie. I loved the idea of discipline and cleanses and mediation and inspiration and manifestation. I guess I just wanted to be an f’ing influencer. But it really took a LOT of work. Driving up and down the PCH, I was clueless where to go. This seemed so much easier on Instagram. Head to the beach, run to the water, jump in, be healthy and free and get it all on film. But I had no idea where to park. When I sheepishly pulled into a small lot with beach access, I figured I was finally on my way. I loaded my gigantic cooler onto my shoulder, stuffed my umbrella under my arm and realized that the only way to the beach required me to CLIMB DOWN A FUCKING LADDER. A rickety, rotten wooden ladder. I was wearing ballerina flats.

Let me remind you all once again that my brand is way more Secret Garden than it is Laguna Beach. The fact that I lived in California for eight years and went to the beach THRICE should really drive that point home. But I was here. I had rented a car and packed a cooler and this was who I was now. I turned around and very slowly wobbled my way, ass-first, down each splintering step, pitching the umbrella halfway and wondering if I was going to die attempting to make a dream come true. At the bottom, a trio of teenagers patiently waited for me to complete my descent. With earnest concern, one of them asked, “are you gonna be okay to make it back up?” I honestly had no idea.

After about an hour of sitting on a blanket I became inconsolably concerned that I was getting a sunburn. I was too afraid to go in the ocean alone and also I had run out of snacks. I took two selfies, looked around a lot and felt completely defeated. What was I doing? Everything I wanted felt very far away and mostly because I didn’t actually know what that was. The Fitspo Beach Girls were so happy and buoyant. They worked hard for their bodies and their wellness and I wanted to work hard too. But wasn’t I? I had just risked my life on a ladder, spent $35 for no reason and worn a bathing suit IN PUBLIC. Why did I feel like shit?

These did appear on IG and the caption did acknowledge the ladder.

This Friday, on my walk from our house into my last shift at the restaurant, a song blasted into my headphones and dropped me directly back into my past self. Some poppy electronic remix that conjures the fantasy of a workout montage and there I was, ocean on the left, cooler to my right, cruising in my rental SUV blasting basic bitch playlists on my way to find the beach. It was visceral. That dreamy drive before the ladder. Achieving the body of my dreams, becoming my beach girl fantasy, hot and cool and fun. An inspiration.

I think of this now with great tenderness. So much excitement and hope. Single, mid 30s, Los Angeles, living alone, decent paying job (although I was waitressing and hating it), I’d escaped a bad relationship and pretty much decided I didn’t need to be a famous actress anymore. It was an era of daydreaming and vision boarding and a confidence that I could create whatever I wanted based on what all the self-help books told me.

I was trying so hard.

As the years fly by, I continue to understand that the things I wish for don’t actually require a wait. They may require work and some time, but it’s in the ‘waiting’ that it’s all happening. Deep joy and anticipation, dreaminess and hope generally far outweigh the reality of achievement. The drive to the beach better than the climb down the ladder to reach the sand. Fantasizing about my afternoon in front of the water so much more satisfying than my lonely hour listening to the waves.

In the midst of a big transition, I’ve found myself in another era of dreamy suspense wondering what comes next. This time, I am armed with the wisdom that waiting is actually just living. That the feelings I’m hoping will accompany whatever achievement I’m chasing are available to me now. Currently, my intention for the next year is to expand what it means to work for myself. To hone and clarify my skills into offerings that make sense for me. There’s very little force involved, a lot of space for surprise and delight.

When I decided after a few months, to give up on becoming a “beach girl,” it was the beginning of my curiosity about moving home. A surrender I never thought I’d make based on a stereotypical fear of failure. I think it’s easy, enticing almost, to poke fun at my past self, roll my eyes and dismiss all the effort she was putting in. When I rented that car, I was on my way to becoming someone completely different than who I am today. The most miraculous part is that I was actually driving myself to exactly where I sit now. Able to see more clearly than ever, that it really is about the journey and not the destination. It’s an ever expanding rollercoaster of experience and memory, reflection and appreciation. That you’ll have opportunities to look back and marvel at who you were and realize that you’re always becoming. And that it really doesn’t matter what kind of car you’re driving, you’ll probably end up somewhere you couldn’t have even dreamt of anyway.

READING

Ina’s memoir, Be Ready When the Luck Happens. It’s as light and delightful as I anticipated, exactly what you think it’s gonna be.

WATCHING

Nobody Wants This. Cute and refreshing. An emotionally available and patient man, a mature and healthy relationship. Very nice to see, I really enjoyed it.

LISTENING

Hysterical. I have a commute now and therefore more time for podcasts. This is giving Yellowjackets Season 1. A group of high school girls start displaying symptoms of Tourette syndrome. An interesting look at mass hysteria and contagion.

Yeah… I completely underestimated the whirlwind of change. Friday was my last shift as a server and it feels very real this time. I’ve been up and down with excitement and grief and exhaustion, mostly overwhelm and adjustment. I am adhering to a schedule ChatGPT wrote me and so far, really into it. What a baffling tool AI is, I’m constantly sorting my feelings on it.

Sweet Tea Talk this Wednesday! Consider becoming a Paid Subscriber if you’d like more intimate, casual conversations. I absolutely cannot believe October is half over. Literally, what is happening?

Have a wonderful week taking care of yourselves and all you love. I’ll talk to you soon.