Issue #1 Being 31 looks nothing like I thought it would
But magnesium supplements help.
I turned 31 last month and, to celebrate, I ran away with a man to a foreign country. Kind of.
I’m renting an AirBnb in Lisbon for a few weeks with my friend Tom, best described as a sort of intellectual Viking lookalike, whom I’ve known since we were teenagers. As to why we’re here - the more salient question is, why not? We’re both freelance writers, and Lisbon is a self-declared ‘digital nomad haven’; so far, this extended work holiday has proved the best decision I’ve made all year, allowing me to enjoy a slower pace of life, focus on writing and spend quality time with the two friends I have here.
That said. One night this week, Tom rolled in from a David Guetta show only for me to corner him into a deep, existential chat made more complicated by the fact I was stubbornly keeping my lisp-inducing retainer trays in. Half an hour later, deep chat concluded with him prescribing me magnesium bisglycinate supplements and a good sleep. Because that, ladies and gentlemen, is what supportive friendship looks like in your early thirties.
Reflecting on our conversation, it strikes me how many conflicting ‘shoulds’ were running through my restless mind. I should go out more; I should be better at staying in (interestingly – Tom, as an introvert, feels the former pressure more acutely, whereas I’ve always felt the latter). Other reflections included: I should be more fun; I should be in a relationship; I should be work harder; I should get more sleep (actually, the latter was the most valid point, in this circumstance…). And I suspect, as a young(er) person, I might have thought this late night Third Life Crisis to be a sign of failure. Because shouldn’t I, aged 31, have it all worked out?
The reality, to paraphrase Friends, is that no one told me life was going to be this way. I’m not sure how I thought it would look, to be honest; just that when I met my ex aged 24 – the same age my mum was when she met my dad – I assumed that would put into motion a similar heteronormative trajectory, particularly in the successive years as friends and peers ‘settled down’ around us. It wasn’t a conscious choice, it just seemed inevitable. But then we broke up. Since then, I can’t tell you my five year plan; a five month plan would be more apt, and even that would be a stretch (while I appreciate the necessity, I seriously tense up when faced with a wedding ‘save the date’ over a year in advance).
And sometimes it’s scary and prompts a dark night of the soul. And sometimes I need to exhume a whole bunch of Shoulds, to exorcise their spirits by speaking them aloud – just to acknowledge that’s where the fear is coming from. And sometimes I find myself recalling that Fleabag scene, where Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s character tells the Hot Priest:
I just think I want someone to tell me how to live my life, Father, because so far I think I’ve been getting it wrong — and I know that’s why people want people like you in their lives, because you just tell them how to do it.
And yet, and yet...
There’s a lot to be said for not having a blueprint. Granted, I write this from a place of calm, nine hours of sleep and three magnesium supplements later. But I know from lived experience that, as I wade a bit further into my thirties, life is rich and beautiful and exciting in ways I could never have anticipated. And I also know that if I used certain ‘Shoulds’ – socially agreed-upon milestones – as a barometer for how content I was allowed to be, then I’d feel wildly bereft.
Instead, without the milestones to fixate upon, I’ve found joy in the accumulation of moments, days and weeks lived on my own terms. Going to a party and experiencing the novelty of new people but also the familiarity of belonging to myself; knowing who I am. Getting to know my family in a whole new way, as an adult. The birthdays I’ve spent with my best friends. The relationships that, yes, ended – but brought nice things during and afterwards nevertheless.
And then there’s the stuff I never really expected would bring me joy. Learning Spanish ‘just because’. Spending five weeks living in Lisbon, ‘just because’. Experimenting with how much, and when, I drink alcohol. Reading fiction (the novels I want to read, rather than the ones I ‘should’), because few things in life make me feel happier and more in flow. Geeking out over urban design (I highly recommend Michael Natelli’s newsletter, Hope in Cities, for this). Having different kinds of relationships, in the broader sense, like intergenerational friendships.
OK, these disparate sources of joy are harder to get excited about, or even to conceive of, late at night when you’ve lost all rational processing ability. It’s natural, in those moments, to want something external to point to – a house, a spouse, a child, a puppy – and say to yourself, ‘This is my life’. Particularly if having one of those things is a big ‘Should’ of yours. But the reality is that, regardless of life stage, we all live in days – some, rainy Tuesdays, or interminable Sunday evenings – and we’re all just working out how we want ours to look, in a way that feels meaningful to us. And it will feel messy, painful and complicated at times – but it will also feel like living.
Life looked at from this lens become less about the Shoulds (and beneath that, the ways you might be falling short of them) – more about a series of potential Coulds: little and large possibilities that make the world seem infinite and expansive.
The older I get, the less definitive answers I have. But I do hope to keep asking the questions – of myself, and, through this newsletter, of you.
This is a regular, ‘what it says on the tin’ segment where I share a handful of things – banal, mind-blowing, glitzy, whatever – that I probably should have posted on Twitter or Instagram.
Tuesday’s sleep deprivation came courtesy of a pair of 7am Ryanair flights, since I flew to London & back for my brother’s 30th last week. While there, I went for lunch with the man in question at The Quality Chop House (not the dining room, but the sandwich shop next door) and ingested half of this delicious lamb shoulder brioche bun – because is your sibling even your sibling if you don’t steal his food? We wandered around Exmouth Market which gave me happy memories of visiting there while I was studying journalism nearby – there’s a lovely florist, perhaps new, called Botanique Workshop, where I was introduced to snap dragons: currently in-season, long-lasting and gorgeous in a ‘most flamboyant person at the party’ kind of way. Later, I met a friend for wine, anchovies & homemade bread three-ways at Noble Rot on Lamb’s Conduit Street, which more than met its high reputation – there’s a cute, intimate nook on your right as you walk in which could be perfect for a number of contexts: people-watching, PDA, or enjoying an endless stream of chatter with your best mate.
Back in Lisbon, we’ve had the annual Web Summit here this week. I was invited to speak as part of the ‘Book Summit’ stage (fellow panellists Stride VC Fred Destin and author Sophia Smith Galer, chaired by Bureau of Investigative Journalism’s James Ball). It was a dream discussion: we were asked to select our ‘desert island books’, and I picked The Portrait of A Lady by Henry James; Braving the Wilderness by Brene Brown; and (because we were asked to pick a recent favourite, too) Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus. On Thursday night, I ate dinner with my friend – a local – at her favourite Lisbon restaurant, A Nossa Casa, and it did not disappoint: the turbot tortellini tasted as delicious and silky as it sounds. P.S. Rapid-fire dining is not a thing in Lisbon; expect most restaurant experiences to happen at the leaden pace with which you navigate its undulating, cobble-stoned landscapes. But I’m trying to leave my stressed London energy at home – and to remember the best pleasures in life (e.g. food, sex, people) are for savouring. Slowly.
Last thing. As I mentioned in my About page, I’m going to start by testing out weekly themes for the Shoulds e.g. one week will be ‘I should meditate’ (and I’d love to hear about the kinds of ‘Should’ themes you’d like me to cover – so let me know in the comments below).
I’ll be announcing each forthcoming week’s theme in our Sunday newsletter, so you know what to expect for the days ahead. For this week, though (i.e. from tomorrow), we’ll be exploring ‘The Shoulds’ in a more general way. It will be a chance to have our first community discussion, plus I’ll be sharing the resources (e.g. podcasts, quotes) that inspired the premise. Stay happy, stay curious!
More soon,
Francesca
