I'm getting older, I think I'm aging well
I wish someone had told me I'd be doing this by myself
There's reasons that I'm thankful, there's a lot I'm grateful for
But it's different when a stranger's always waiting at your door
Which is ironic 'cause the strangers seem to want me more
Than anyone before (anyone before)
Too bad they're usually deranged
Coincidentally (or not so coincidentally), today is also the Movie Star's birthday. Being the pathetically hopeless romantic that I am, I used to think that being born on the 6th day of the month exactly 6 months apart meant something once. Now, I'm pretty sure it doesn't mean anything (except that our natal Sun placements - 13/14° Cancer vs Capricorn - are exactly opposite). But I do remember that it's his birthday, because I have a head for birthdays. In my moving frenzy last Winter, I came across a journal entry lamenting the fact that I will never forget that today is his birthday. Melodramatic and silly...I now know I remember everyone's birthday because I'm that girl. The girl who will always learn people's birthdays (sometimes through trickery and subterfuge, if necessary), remember them, and wish them well. And now I'm extra dangerous, because I also calculate everyone's sun sign the minute I learn their birthday. This obsession with birthdays and birth charts is a quirk of mine from childhood and (for me) it never gets old.
Another person's birthday who I've being entranced with recently is V.E. Schwab, who was born the day after me and has a very similar birth chart, except that (due to being born a day later) she has Mars in Leo, instead of the last degree of Cancer. I even looked up her rising sign, which is supposedly Virgo. That's another bit of similarity, because that means we're both Mercury ruled. Unfortunately, I feel as if my Mercury-dominance is a bit scattered when it comes to writing and hers is very, very focused. She's quite prolific and has written several (20+) books and graphic novels. She is very much who I'd like to become some day, if I ever get my shit together. As much as I admire V.E. Schwab, I've only read one of her books - "The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue" - which, when I read it last Summer (during the week of our birthdays, actually), it got me thinking about the Movie Star. There's something about the way she wrote Henry Strauss, one of the main characters in the novel, that I couldn't help but picture him when I read it. Maybe it's the physical description she provides - dark hair, green eyes, Jewish heritage with a German last name. And I know he lived in New York at some point after graduation, so it makes me wonder if V.E. Schwab met him once. Or maybe she just saw him walking down the street, ridiculously tall (like 6'3") in a wool pea coat, which always suited him well. She didn't quite get his personality, though. No, his personality and his sorrows are more fitting for someone else I know. But he did have sad eyes and his whole face lit up when he smiled. Memory is a curious thing. There are few people I remember in such vivid detail and we weren't even really friends. I can even imagine what his voice sounded like when I knew him and that's always the first thing to go. It's frustrating because, while I remember the Movie Star so well, I'm losing pieces of people I desperately want to remember.
Today also happens to be a Full Moon in Cancer (aka, the Wolf Moon) - right on top of my natal Sun placement, mind you - and it's an excellent time for reflections, revelations, and emotional release. Memories - and having a particularly sharp memory - is a topic and trait closely associated with Cancerian nature. In an attempt to squeeze some brilliance out of this old grapefruit, my main intention for this year is to do daily morning pages. I wake up around 430 am in order to make time to do this and, as you can imagine, this gives me ample time for some prime navel gazing. I've been scraping the bottom of the barrel of my psyche - really digging that spatula into nooks and crannies - trying to figure out why this fucker keeps showing up in my dreams and my thoughts every few months. I think I finally understand. He never properly broke my heart. Sure, he rejected me and that sucked. Well, technically, I confessed my feelings to him and he said "I don't know," which I eventually concluded was a "no." But he could've easily taken advantage of how I felt about him and he didn't. The confusing signals and awkward flirting with me stopped, because I wouldn't have been so bold if I hadn't thought he reciprocated. He didn't keep me close so I could stroke his ego when he was feeling down. He didn't even try to be friends with me afterwards which, in hindsight, I'm really grateful for. It's cruel to try to force a friendship on someone who feels more intensely than you do, who wants more than that. Just peruse TikTok and Instagram to get a brief taste of how much emotional damage a "situationship" can cause. No, I kept a respectful distance and he did the same. He may have rejected me but he never hurt me. As such, he serves as a beautiful, milquetoast security blanket that my mind goes to when thinking about the situations and people that actually did break my heart becomes too much. And for someone who often came off as full of himself, he was genuinely kind in a delicate situation. For that, I wish him well and hope he gets all the good things he deserves.
And yet...And yet...
I don't pray for him every day. He's not the one I talk to in my head. He isn't the one I'm writing for now. He's certainly not who I'm thinking about on my daily commute to work, through the dark, creepy pecan orchard that is my native habitat. I'm not even going to wish him "happy birthday" today because, well, I'd have to log into Facebook and that's just a step farther than I'm willing to go. And I don't care if he ever reads this because, as T-Swift so eloquently put it, "you don't write a song about someone unless you don't plan on talking to them ever again." (I'm paraphrasing....she said it much better.) I also don't think he would recognize himself in my writing. I don't think he thinks about it near as often as I do. At least, I hope not. That'd be embarrassing. For him. In truth, I'm genuinely okay with how my infatuation with the Movie Star ended. I wish him well but, if I never saw or spoke to him again in this lifetime, I'd be legitimately fine with that. I can't say that about everyone I used to know.
I know that was a crazy rant. We took a few left turns, so I'll try to get back on track. Let's talk about the song. As of this blog post, Billie Eilish is only 21 years old. This is the opening song to her album, "Happier Than Ever," which came out at the end of 2021. That means she was, at most, 19 years old when she wrote "Getting Older." Riddle me this - how does a 19-year-old write a song that perfectly describes where I (a 35-going-on-36 year old woman) am at in my own life? Obviously, she's much more self-aware than I was at 19. Keep in mind - the whole scenario with the Movie Star happened when I was 19, so clearly....I was a shit show. But I'm not sure I was this soul weary. Except for the time I went to Mass by myself and then cried for hours because I couldn't fake being a Catholic anymore (I'll call that fun escapade my Witch Awakening). Well, even if I wasn't soul weary then, I'm certainly feeling it now. My favorite lyrics are in the following verse (bolded for emphasis):
Last week, I realized I crave pity
When I retell a story, I make everything sound worse
Can't shake the feeling that I'm just bad at healing
And maybe that's the reason every sentence sounds rehearsed
Which is ironic because when I wasn't honest, I was still being ignored
(Lying for attention just to get neglection)
Now we're estranged
Can't shake the feeling that I'm just bad at healing. That line struck me because I feel it so often. Especially when I go over things in my mind - like the incident with the Movie Star - I just want to scream because why am I thinking about it when I don't care anymore? And that's the shit I can laugh at now. With things that feel fresher and more raw, I worry that I won't ever get over them, no matter how much therapy and shadow work I do. Why. Can't. I. Just. Get. Over. It. As I've said before, I'd really like to get to the not caring part because I hate to be the one who was hurt more. Trusting the process only gets you so far.
I'm getting older, I've got more on my shoulders
But I'm getting better at admitting when I'm wrong
I'm happier than ever, at least that's my endeavor
To keep myself together and prioritize my pleasure
'Cause to be honest, I just wish that what I promise
Would depend on what I'm given (not on his permission)
(Wasn't my decision) to be abused, mmm
I've taken on this whole "healing" endeavor because my children deserve a mom who is whole. I want them to have a better childhood than I had. The crazy thing is, I'm kind of grateful for the things I've been through. Would I want to go through them again or wish a similar experience on anyone? No, absolutely not. But I can see how it shaped the things I love best about myself. And as I get older, I'm able to view my mom with a more compassionate lens. It's not easy being a mother who feels like she's taking care of three girls by herself. Add a serious undiagnosed mental illness on top of that? Well, let's say things could've ended up much worse. It easily could've turned into an Andrea Yates situation. Or she could've abandoned us. Yet, as many times as she ran away, she always took us with her. I wish she had been happier when I was growing up. I wish she had more help. I wish she had asked for more help. Another pithy Instagram quote going around is "Just because my mother didn't break all generational curses didn't mean she broke none." I know that's confusing to read. I know she was doing her best with the hand she was dealt. Since I know better, I have to be better. Which includes becoming happier than ever, keeping myself together, and prioritizing my pleasure. Wise advice from a 19-year-old.
But next week, I hope I'm somewhere laughing
For anybody asking, I promise I'll be fine
I've had some trauma, did things I didn't wanna
Was too afraid to tell ya, but now, I think it's time
To wrap up this oddly emotional post, Billie ends the song talking about what she hopes for her future (as well as setting up the premise for the whole album). Throughout the album, "Happier Than Ever," Eilish recounts some of the trauma she endured. The songs are essentially mini-vignettes of her life. It's a fucking great album - I think it was rated as one of the best in 2021 - and the thing that makes great art is vulnerability. Ironically, the thing that helps most with "healing" is being able to tell your story. She alludes to this in the final lyric. I think we often hold back our feelings and avoid telling our story because we're afraid of hurting someone else or getting in trouble for what you reveal. But it's your story. We're allowed to express how we feel. We're allowed to tell the story how we experienced it, other people's feelings be damned. And, as an adult, we should be able to handle the fall out. I can write about the Movie Star because I love the dumb, dramatic girl who writes histrionic love letters to boys who flirt with everybody. It's part of who I am now, for better or worse. Even if recounting it makes me seem crazy. Well, it took a long time for me to fall in love with my crazy. And I know, eventually, I'll be able to write about the things that are hurting now. When it's time.
"Getting Older" Official Lyric Video
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