To: Myself in My 20s

and to all of you who are currently in your 20s or have been at some point. *Chapter 84*

The first tattoo I got is on my lower right back. In a font about 50 sizes larger than I wanted, the artist informed he couldn’t do it any smaller because the letters would bleed together. Having since gotten a few tiny tattoos in tiny fonts, I’ve realized he was full of shit. Too late now.

Seek truth.

This is a 100% accurate representation of what it looks like. Seek truth.

Why Seek truth.? (Please note the very important period dotting the end. Seek truth (period).) Why did I choose this phrase to permanently adorn my lower back? Honestly. I don’t really know. I recall thinking that seeking truth felt like a sort of spiritual mission. At 18, I wasn’t a church goer but I did have tarot cards. I had no solid belief in anything but I trusted in something grander than me.

And I had a sense of humor and an elderly soul that knew how silly (and endearing) this ridiculously large tattoo would seem to my ‘adult’ self, the 41 year old who now sits here writing to you about one of the funniest decisions of my life. An early clue to who I would become. A ‘not too serious, who actually even cares, everything is ridiculous, huh…well that happened…’ breed of grown up.

Sun Babe, by Bonnie Lynn Felton, lynnfelton.com

I’ve been thinking a lot about my younger self. Not to go all “in my day” on you but, I found my 20s, especially my later 20s and really more my 30s (yikes) very challenging. I was lucky to have a serving job to pay my rent and I was pursuing acting so I got to claim I’d have a career as soon as I had a big break. In the context of the 25 year old CEOs who exist now, I don’t know how y’all Gen Z’ers are doing it. I can’t imagine feeling, on top of all the other confusion, like I needed to be running my own company.

Also, I desperately wanted to fall in love. At 23, my MySpace photos consisted of a series of pictures documenting my tumultuous relationship with my stuffed animal ostrich, Jeri. You read that right.

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I reposted the story on my original blog, The Peach in the Apple, the one I started when I moved to New York City in 2006, at 22. Those posts are available to my Paid Subscribers (as is my whole archive) but I’ll include a preview for all of you here…

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A screenshot from The Peach in the Apple post, yes it is as ridiculous and unhinged as it seems

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For all my Paid Subs, here are the links to the rest of the Stuffed Ostrich saga…

The Ballad of Jeri and Brittany Part 1, Part 2, Part 3….

(You can also upgrade if you wanna see the whole thing, lol…if this is the incentive that converts some of y’all to paid I will scream in delight.)

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Imagine my surprise when I was ghosted by a guy who, after asking for my Myspace and presumably looking at it, never showed up to our date. I waited at Cafe Gitane with one of my besties, Megan, who was ready to bolt as soon as he arrived. He never did. “Do you think it’s because of Jeri?” I wondered over smoked trout salad and Lillet on the rocks, a drink I thought made me very chic and Parisian.

At 25, when I began my career as a server, I was sure I would one day reflect on the couple of years I spent working in a restaurant. My very own version of the age old story, I pounded the pavement, waited tables for half of Hollywood and now, finally, here I am, accepting my Oscar.

I’ve always called myself a late bloomer but if you’d told me at 23 that I wouldn’t find true love until I turned 38… or that I’d spend not two but FIFTEEN years waiting tables, I would have walked into NYC traffic. I miss the naive certainty that powered my 20s. They were challenging but I was so SURE I’d achieve all my dreams. The era of my life when everything felt possible and life was so dreamy. Sigh.

These days I’m lucky to know some pretty spectacular under-25 year olds and I notice a familiar sentiment amongst them. Please tell me I’m okay. It’s very tempting to feel like a hamster, round and round on a wheel, what am I doing and what is this for??

That all the stupid and hilarious things, like posting a photo saga with my stuffed animal or getting a laughable tattoo would become my lore, some of my favorite parts of my story so far. That seemingly insignificant fascinations like blogs and food photography and wine would begin coming out of the ground like cicadas and twenty years later start making sense in the context of the career and life I’m now creating…is stupid and hilarious in and of itself. Take peace in that, dear 20 something.

What would I like to tell my younger self? Nothing. I wouldn’t want to prevent ANY of the shenanigans I went through that landed me where I am today… writing in a cafe in Atlanta next to my friend Jacin who is embroidering a sweatshirt and who also introduced me to the community of fabulous women I’ve been lucky enough to start working with this year.

@jacinfitzgerald

There’s simply no way to know things until you know them. Wisdom is earned through living and peace follows that wisdom. I am constantly reminding myself that rushing towards a goal robs you of the whole freaking point, that you get to live your life. That you’re in the process of collecting all the memories you will cherish if you are lucky enough to get to old age. That you’ll never be younger than you are today but that you will actually get hotter as the years progress. And also that you’re perfect exactly as you are. Sorry to be so cliche but it’s true. I have a 360 pt. font tattoo on my back that says Seek truth (period).. You can trust me.

My biggest piece of advice for anyone in their 20s is to figure out how to move cities and travel if this is something you’re drawn to and deeply want. Now is the time for you to do the crazy stuff. It will give you so much peace when, in your late 30s, you start wondering if you actually want to move home. Trust me. It’s one of the aspects of my life I’m most grateful for. Having traveled and lived other places.¹

It is gonna be okay. If there’s any chance this seed of knowledge pierces through your fear and doubt and begins growing roots, allow yourself as much as you can to cherish all these wild and fucked up moments you’re collecting. You absolutely do NOT know what your seemingly unimportant experiences can flower into. You’re not supposed to and that’s the point.

Thank God I had no idea that it would take coming back to where I started, my hometown, to finally feel grounded, to finally find love, to finally start doing some work that feels more purpose driven and suited specifically to who I am. If it hadn’t taken the time it took, I would never have had the resources and sense of self to be successful in any of these areas. All the strange and confusing shit I sifted through in my 20s and 30s gave me the pieces of who I really wanted to be and also showed me the pieces I needed to trash.

If you’ve ended up with some ugly ass tattoos, emotional scars and heavy baggage, don’t worry. You’ll realize more and more every year that you have the choice to accept and let go. To forgive yourself every mortification and to sit in gratitude for all the roads that lead to places you can’t even imagine yet. Oh and also, Seek truth

Period.

WATCHING

The White Lotus but damn it makes me anxious and I often wonder if I actually want to be watching it but I also can’t look away?

MAKING

Go get yourself some farm fresh turnips, radishes and cabbage and then sauté the shit out of them in a pan together with some butter and salt. You’re welcome.

DOING

Washing my hair everyday. For you thin, three-haired girlies like me, I find the once a week or once every few days hair wash routine completely NOT for me and yet, I feel like I’m doing something wrong by washing my hair daily BUT it looks significantly better when I do. Can y’all weigh in here? Am I bad person for washing my three hairs everyday?

Oof, I freaking struggled to get this one out. Sometimes, the flow is so easy and sometimes it feels like trying to force myself through a cement wall. Anyway! It seems like an entire year has passed since I last posted and it’s only been a single week! We have been SO busy but plan on spending the weekend, which for us is Sunday-Monday, drinking wine and eating cheese on various Atlanta patios.

Paid Subs, I failed to bring you a Sweet Tea Talk as scheduled but I promise you one next week. How to Act in a Restaurant returns this Thursday with a post so make sure you’re subscribed for all F&B related sassiness.

It is GLORIOUS in Atlanta. Spring has sprung and I plan to soak up as much of it as possible before the summer humidity rolls in and attempts to kill us. Go buy yourself some farmers market flowers. Talk to you soon!

1. BUT, do not get yourself into credit card debt. Don’t do it.