For all the summers I cried
The Summer I Turned Pretty made my younger self feel seen.
I know it’s almost a month and half since the last episode of The Summer I Turned Pretty aired so let’s just say these are my ruminations after the fact (even though I actually wrote originally wrote this a week before the last episode aired not realising the happy STORM that episode would give to fans everywhere!)
When I first heard of the show The Summer I Turned Pretty from my daughter a couple of years ago, it never really interested me. I thought it’s just another one of those trashy teenage shows a fully grown 37-year-old adult like me would not be able to relate to.
But after rewatching Gilmore Girls, The OC, and One Tree Hill, I ran out of shows to watch. The Summer I Turned Pretty kept coming up in my suggested shows so I decided to give it a go. What will another coming of age show do to me, right? It’s just for fun—I just needed something to pass the time.
“Oh my god, Mommy. That’s like the most rage bait show I’ve ever watched,” my daughter said when I told her that I started watching it.
It should come as no surprise, especially for those of you who have watched it, that it was a rollercoaster. It was a classic love triangle between two brothers and a girl. A typical story of not knowing who to choose, ricocheting back and forth with emotions and drama. The closest thing I remembered while watching it was the whole Damon-Stefan-Elena struggle. Especially the ball scene.
What I did not expect was the rollercoaster of emotions I felt watching it. It was as if I was watching a close friend make one wrong decision after another and I can’t do anything about it. I just have to stand there and watch it all unfold. But there was something vaguely familiar about it, like a phantom memory I couldn’t quite pinpoint.
And then it became clear to me:
At multiple points in my life, I have been Belly.
No, I haven’t had to choose between two brothers but I have been, on multiple occasions, been the girl my friends didn’t know what to do about. I have made one wrong decision after the other in my 20s that have caused so much drama and destruction—to friends, my family, to people’s hearts… to my heart.
“Look, you don’t make it through your 20s without inflicting some damage,” Gemma, Belly’s new friend in Paris said.
It’s not something to be proud about, but it’s something pivotal to remember. Like tombstones in war zones you almost forgot about. Wars you forgot you caused, or started because you were too desperate, or too foolish, or just… too young to know better.
There is a surf town I now only visit in my memory. I still remember the last sunset I caught, in the bus on the way back home. The sky was painted in feathery pinks and purples, like brushstrokes on clouds. I was looking wistfully out the window knowing I wouldn’t have the face to come back to that place ever again. Not after what I’d done. Not after what has been done to me, too.
And then, there was the greatest destruction I’ve ever been in. I still remember walking down that road, trying to drown out the noise of the curses being shouted at me, and the ringing in my ear after being slapped in the face. This one took me 7 years to get out of. I went against my parents, my friends, even myself. A situation that in hindsight, I cannot believe I was so stupid to ever put up with.
While I came out of all of these shattered into pieces, with time, grace, and a solid support system, I have been made whole again. All those years of being so drunk in the wrong concept of love, now a distant memory.
When I saw Belly walk around Paris after making the decision to stay and saying that she can rebuild again, it transported me back to finally finding myself and my self worth when I moved to Australia.
“Look, you don’t make it through your 20s without inflicting some damage. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have lived.”
Some people say that this show was messy and not worth the time (before that AWESOME last episode). But that’s it, isn’t it? This show was messy because it was meant to be—it’s real and it’s raw. Young life, and love, is not a straight and easy path. It’s a rollercoaster, really. There are twists and turns. You’re lucky if you’re the one on the bench watching someone up there scream in terror. But sometimes, you’re the one strapped on that seat, wrestling with the fact that you allowed yourself to be in there, cursing yourself for getting into a situation you now realise you don’t want to be in, hoping and praying the ride will finally come to a stop. You may have chosen the wrong seat or the wrong person beside you, but it will eventually end. And life will finally stop being so topsy turvy.
So, my journey of watching The Summer I Turned Pretty did not make me feel angry, it actually made my younger self feel seen. Because for all the summers I’ve cried and messed up, I’ve gained endless summers of healing.
And that’s all that matters in the end.
La Union, Philippines