131. Breaking the "act like an adult" rules because they're boring.

I was more fun as a child but they told me to act like an adult.

I’m lying in the bath. Submerged in hot water. My skin is turning red and I’m beginning to ask myself if this could be bad for me. My mind immediately reminds me that I’ve been doing this all my life and nothing bad has ever come from it, in fact it’s done nothing but bring me joy. The hotter the water, the stronger the shudder as I get in the bath to lie down. The longer my eyes remain closed focusing on the pleasure that comes from the sensation of burning water on my skin. After a while, I feel my head begin to swell and my face turn red.

Before I stepped in, I tied my long hair in a bun on the top of my head. This was done so that I would be able to put my shoulders under the water, but not too much because the base of my scalp would get wet and I’d already decided that I didn’t want to wet my hair because I washed it yesterday morning. 

I manage to find the sweet spot where my shoulders are warm and my hair is dry. Then I realised that I’d feel much more soothed if I let my neck touch the hot water, but that would mean getting some of my hair wet and this dilemma has just become the most important thing to think about while now lying in the bath. To get my hair slightly wet or to pass up the gentle soothing sensation I’m already imagining in my mind. 

A memory pops up.

It’s of me in a body of water as a child. I was fearless. I’d swim anywhere anytime.

This memory takes me to another one.

Now I’m at the beach on a windy grey day, the waves are really tall and loud when they’re usually small and rhythmic. I’m walking along the shore with my parents and some other children and adults I can’t recall. I tease the elders by running towards the water, getting my feet wet, the withdraw of water wetting my ankles. I look back at them with a soft laugh trying to calculate within seconds how much trouble I’d get in if I jumped into the waves. What’s the worst that could happen? If they shout at me or ground me I’ll have already done it. They wouldn’t be able to take that from me. The best case scenario is them laughing and me getting to do it more than once. I throw myself into the waves fully clothed and feel the panic of being pushed and pulled under the water by the strong currents. Oh no, maybe this was a bad idea. Get to the surface. Now. My head pops up above the water and the adults aren’t angry. I do it again and the other children join in too. 

We had fun in the sea but the aftermath is having to walk to the car in wet clothes, sticking to my skin, while feeling the salt slowly burn and itch on my skin. But It was worth it. 

As a child I had no problem with making decisions because it meant enjoying the moment and doing whatever crazy thing I was imagining. There was no overthinking, no analysing, no pros and cons list, no terrible consequences. Everything was just… doable. So why wouldn’t I do it? It made less sense to not do it and forever ask myself what if. 

This “what if” sentence takes me to another memory.

I’m outside Decathlon, it’s the weekend and it must be sometime during the summer holidays. It’s hot and the sun is blinding. The car park is full of different colour cars and there are children everywhere. I look up and see a rock climbing wall that Decathlon has built at the end of their parking lot. Children are participating in climbing to the top to ring a bell wearing a harness with a long rope. There are so many children, all lining up to climb the wall. From afar, I stare in awe at this event so out of the ordinary. We’ve come to this shop a hundred times and I’ve never seen such a thing. The only fun to be had here was driving around on the “test me” scooters and skateboards without the shop assistants, or my parents, seeing me. But today it’s different. Today God has placed this opportunity in front of me and I’m too scared to do it. 

I’m older than when I threw myself into the waves. I’m a pre-teen now and looking cool is critical. Climbing this wall could mean not reaching the top, falling halfway, getting stuck, my bum crack showing, my hands sweating and losing my grip. Too many risks to be taken in front of so many other people like me.

My parents see me staring at the ginormous wall being climbed in the car park and ask me if I’d like to have a go. I can’t answer. I’m dying to climb that wall but my risk evaluation has told me that I will most likely make a fool of myself and that’s something to be avoided at all costs. I shrug my shoulders and pretend I’m not interested so we walk into the shop. I still wonder what would have happened if I’d been able to throw myself against the wall as I did with the waves. No risk evaluation. Just following my desire to have fun and experience new things. Maybe today I’d have real useful muscles in my arms instead of spaghetti because I fell in love with the sport, or maybe not.

Lying in the bath going over my do-I-wet-my-hair-dilemma, I felt inspired by my pre-teen self and decided to just do it. I felt my inner adult cheer me on.

Break the rules! Go for it! You’re crazy! Incredible!

We did it. We broke the adult pattern of being responsible and doing the logical thing. I got my hair wet when I was supposed to keep it as dry as possible because I’d washed it yesterday. When are us girls taught this anyway? Why can’t I wet my hair any day of the week without thinking about wash days? Why are our lives confined to a weekly hair washing routine?

The hot water on my shoulders and neck feel good. The wet strands of hair at the base of my scalp feel good.

Another memory.

I remember adults always bobbing with the water up to their shoulders to keep warm. That was the trick that they taught me full of pride. But it’s not very logical from a child’s point of view. Why would I want to get in the sea and not put my head under? The feeling of water on your face is quite possibly one of life's most pleasurable experiences, and it’s free. 

As we get older, we’re told that we become more mature and more responsible but in reality, now that I’m an adult, I think that we’ve all agreed to tell ourselves this collective lie and even believe it. Being an adult means paying rent, paying bills, earning money somehow, cooking your own dinner when you’re tired and booking your own hairdressers appointments. But why does it have to be so boring? Why do we all believe that we have to behave and be so prudent? 

It’s never too late.

I bought into that idea and didn’t climb Decathlon’s once in a lifetime rock climbing wall. I stopped pooping in the supermarket's toilets while my parents did the shopping. I stopped singing while walking down the street pretending to be in a music video for MTV. I stopped dancing badly whenever I heard one of my favourite songs play through a shop’s loudspeakers. I stopped wearing colourful clothes with stripes and spots. I stopped skipping everywhere instead of walking. I changed my rainbow-coloured socks for black and white ones, sometimes grey. I stopped wearing my hair in plaits because that’s for young girls. I stopped pretending to be a fairy when in a park. But I guess I grew up successfully.

Now that I’ve grown up, I want to learn how to be that fun, crazy, excited young girl I once was before everyone told me to behave, speak quieter and sit still. She’s got to be in me somewhere, I just need to find her. 

Us humans adapt to change quickly. Extremely quickly. The first day I came to France I was petrified when an elderly man spoke to me at the petrol station. Nowadays, I begin conversations with people for fun. It feels completely normal to not be able to communicate in English or in Spanish here. Feeling my brain have to really turn on and make an effort to rummage through the remainders of French textbooks from high school stored in a lost archive somewhere. Looking for the word “hot water bottle” without any success and then having to connect English and Spanish syntax to come up with a go around is my day to day now.

But months ago I saw replying to that man at the petrol station as climbing Mount Everest. I was sure I’d never reach base camp. Now I’m living at base camp and these once extreme conditions feel completely normal, natural and comfortable. Just like getting into a red hot bath, sweating and breathing through the initial discomfort disguised as pleasure. You get used to it and forget what normal used to be like. I can’t remember getting on a subway and going places on a moving cart underground anymore. That memory feels dystopian and like it belongs to a past lifetime, but it was my norm two years ago. 

Just as I was able to make Mount Everest’s base camp my luxury hotel, I can again, find comfort in allowing myself to act like a child, take pride in it and have fun. I’ve tried to be a serious grown up and it’s no fun. Next time I hear Justin Bieber singing baby, baby, baby, ohhhhhh in the supermarket you better believe I’m going to stop in the middle of the aisle, with my imaginary microphone and sing the lyrics into my boyfriend’s eyes as if it were a matter of life or death. Maybe I’ll make a fellow adult break character and smile.