The gulf of words unsaid racks my nerves.
Two and a half years of silence, of avoidance. Two and a half years of wanting to express myself but coming up short for an infinitely mounting list of reasons. Life in this country feels more impossible than ever and between my own empathy and burnout, inspiration has been hard to find.
That being said, last fall Adam and I went on our very first vacation as a couple that had nothing to do with Home Free and wasn’t accessible by a few hours in the car. It only took us five years to be granted that opportunity, and it more than made up for that lack. It was an exceptional week and one we will never forget. And while I’ve been wanting to share the beauty we experienced for that week in October, you might be aware of what else was going on the world in October. For six months now, we’ve had to watch a genocide unfold in Gaza, and our country’s leaders refuse to put humanity over profit. They’ve not only allowed it, they’ve aided its persistence. I’m ashamed of our leaders, and of the systems this beautiful earth is corrupted by. It won’t feel right to move into the recounting of my trip which was made possible by immense privilege without calling out this gross injustice and calling on my readers to do what they feel comfortable with to make a stand for humanity and to call for a ceasefire. For a comprehensive list of actions to take, with many different options depending on your comfort level/ability, click here. Free Palestine.
Now that I’m sure I’ve lost a few of you, it’s important that if you’re still reading you understand that nothing means more to me in this world than equity and justice. I don’t want your like on a post of mine if you can’t see the full humanity of a person based on some made up societal class system bullshit. Thank you for hearing me out, and thank you for letting me use this moment in the way that feels important to me.
Now, I know I said this trip had nothing to do with Home Free, and it didn’t. But I’m going to back up a few days and place us in London where I flew out to meet my partner where he was finishing the European leg of tour. Some of you might not know that I spent my junior year of college in England. The first half of the year in a town just north of Liverpool, the second half in London. If you knew me then, you know how fundamentally changed I was when I came back to the states. I deeply believe profound growth and wisdom come when you pop your bubble. When you are exposed to people of different backgrounds, cultures previously unfamiliar, cuisines you’ve never tried, sights you’ve never seen. There is safety in comfort, but there is radical joy on the other side of discomfort. Lately, I’ve been clinging a little too tight onto my own safety and comfort, so this reminder of a lesson I once learned was refreshing and powerful.
Me, circa 2011-12, when I lived in the UK. That Polaroid around my neck took some of my favorite photos I’ve ever taken.
It’s hard to put into words the emotions flooding my body when I got on the tube and walked the streets I hadn’t stepped foot on in eleven years but that once felt like home. Immediately upon my arrival into Heathrow, I realized that I don’t have phone service outside of the states. (At this point Adam was in Amsterdam, so I was on my own for the day.) I let my anxiety wash over my body for about five minutes before I remembered how well I know this place. How the last time I was here I was deludedly independent and fearless. I chose to be her again.
I boarded the tube and the nostalgia welled up in me to the point of almost oozing out my tear ducts. At one point I had to switch trains, and the universe kissed me on the forehead and let that switch be at Earl’s Court, which is the tube stop I lived off of back in the first four months of 2012. I let a nostalgia or two escape my eyeballs then. Once I deposited my suitcases and my airport grime at my hotel room, I took the tube straight back to Earl’s Court to wander around my old home. I walked down my old street, saw my old flat, my old pub, my old Sainsbury’s. Much was different, but much was the same. I walked my old walk to school, up to High Street Kensington. I was actually grinning. I walked through Hyde Park all the way back to my hotel. Stopping and taking photos along the way, I absorbed every present moment.
My old tube stop!
My flat was the basement floor, so these were our entry steps. The guy I was seeing at the time drunkenly fell down these steps one night. From time to time we’d sit on the upper steps drinking cider and enjoying the crisp air.
This is where I took the best Shakespeare course of my entire theatre education. Shoutout to Michael Winter and the London Dramatic Academy, which I’m not sure even exists anymore.
An old nondescript building I stumbled on in Hyde Park that served no purpose but sure was pretty.
My old flat (or, might as well be. I realized after I took this that my address was 16, not 4. Just a few more down the block. I’m upset about it but that’s what happens when you can’t access the internet and have only your awful memory to go on.) It looks exactly the same so for all intents and purposes let’s imagine it’s my flat.
Me and my flatmates back in 2012. We had the best time.
A cute couple in Hyde Park. 2023. (Also I know all the black and white photos look like they were taken on the first camera ever made. It was expired film, and I’m more bummed out about it than anyone, so let’s just pretend they don’t look like that, okay?)
My flatmates in Hyde Park having a picnic. (2012)
Me walking through Hyde Park (2023)
It’s been a long time since I’ve been that actively present. To put it in perspective, most of us walk the same streets for most of our lives. At any given moment from any given spot, you can recall many moments from your life that took place right there. It is a rare sensation to have been so familiar with a place and then not return for over a decade. But the experience is almost overwhelming. Flooded with specific memories from a succinct chapter of your life. It’s like opening a time capsule. I was blissful here, heartbroken there, overwhelmed here, hungover there, angry here, confused there, excited here, made a fool of myself there. I may have been back but I am not who I was. There are parts of who I was then that who I am now misses desperately, parts that I wish I could still identify with, but there are so many parts of who I was that who I am now can appreciate but be thankful to have grown out of.
When I lived there, I was first and foremost a traveler, a student. Free, untethered, messy, and adventurous. A person not shy about making mistakes, but not quite able to confront my faults yet. I got hurt there and I hurt people there. It was the first time I opened an honest dialogue with myself about my sexuality, about who I wanted to be rather than who I thought I had to be. I chopped my hair off, tattooed my ribcage, pierced my nose. I stepped into my future there. As I walked the posh, damp streets of West London, I couldn’t help but reflect on how unrecognizable I would be today if it weren’t for that period of my life.
I’m so thankful for that girl, as messy and drunk and imperfect and desperate for love as she was. She was wholly unafraid for maybe the last time in a long time, before the adult anxieties and harsh realities of the world and capitalism and racism and classism and sexism hit her hard in the face. I think this was my coming of age novel moment. During the transition from the oversaturated, romanticized, diary-entry version of life in your teens to the gritty real world of adulthood, if you’re like I was, you threw yourself head first into what’s coming for you. When you do so, you inevitably step outside of yourself, take off the rose colored glasses and start to see the world for what it really is. It’s harsh but it’s inevitable. I’m so glad I didn’t hold on to the beliefs I held before I went there. I’m so glad for all the pain and heartache and breakthroughs that came after. I’m so glad to be who I am now, even though I don’t always feel that way. These are some of the thoughts I had while walking through Hyde Park. If you saw me and felt bad for that crying girl walking alone, know I was just opening my time capsule.
After the last show of the tour at the O2 Forum in Kentish Town, we stayed an extra day at a funky AirBnb in Shoreditch with our buddy, Neil. I gingerly nursed a hangover because old habits die hard, we watched a Premier League match which was such a bucket list moment, had a hair of the dog because old habits die hard, and ended the night on the roof of our AirBnb with a cheese board and John Williams accompanying our conversation.
On the rooftop of our AirBnb. I said it was funky!
Fulham VS. Chelsea!
The next day we hugged our friend and boarded a plane to what I can only describe as the most memorable trip Adam and I have taken as a couple.
The story of our Irish exploration comes next week, so stay tuned for that.
I have read and reread this blog post trying to make sure it’s not oozing with cheesy clichés. I know how people talk about people who study abroad. The eye rolls; the “we get it’s”; the glazed over expressions. But, if you’ve been lucky enough to travel, you know the effects it has on your mind and heart. It is expansive and transformative and there’s a reason things are cliché after all.
If you’ve never left your bubble for fear or comfort, take this as your sign to take that leap. If you have the means, it will be the best thing you can do for yourself, and for your community. You’ll return a more empathetic and kind human with a larger understanding of the world and different cultures and that can only benefit the people you interact with on a daily basis.
Thank you for reading. I’d love to hear from you down below about a place you adore that you’re dying to return to, or a memory so sharp in your mind that means a lot for you in your life!