messages in a bottle
the almost 30 woman and the sea
Well, it’s been a minute.
Probably the longest stretch since I began writing.
Life has been chaotic—per usual, but like… season finale chaotic.
Since my last essay in early February, I’ve dealt with:
A whole spinoff series of Who TF Did I Marry
My stepdad passed away from cancer
Handling the mess that was the aftermath of his death
Celebrating one of my dearest friends from first grade’s bachelorette in spicy Santa Fe
Applying to more jobs than I can count and doing more unpaid projects than should be legally allowed
I think this has been the craziest time for me since I started writing, which led to writer’s block—or maybe not even writer’s block… more like being cast away in the ocean with nothing but driftwood to hold onto (alas, no pen, paper, or Google Docs to write in).
Aka barely keeping my head above water and taking things day by day.
Feeling lost feels like being overboard on the Titanic—
Not enough seats in the lifeboats,
just a piece of driftwood, and the hope that it’s enough.
Which leads me to messages in a bottle.
If you know my mom, you know she keeps everything.
Like, museum-level archival commitment.
In my old “playroom,” while cleaning in preparation for the very real possibility of moving back in when my stepdad’s health was quickly declining, I found (and not limited to):
White Water Bay passes from 2000 (not sure if those even exist anymore—probably all digital now)
Happy Mother’s Day cards in my aggressively earnest 8-year-old handwriting
Invitations from friends’ high school graduation parties
You get the gist.
But today, while organizing in my normal fashion—aka deciding what should’ve been donated years ago—I came across something different:
Messages in a bottle.
For my high school graduation party, I had everyone wear white.
I wanted to be classy—like those all-white Labor Day parties on the East Coast.
My vision was Gossip Girl-coded… duh.
We had little glass bottles from Hobby Lobby.
Twine.
Sand.
Scrapbook paper.
The idea was simple:
Everyone writes me a note as I’m leaving Oklahoma for California.
A send-off.
A time capsule.
A version of me I hadn’t met yet.
So naturally, I read them.
(Some… okay, all.)
Some of these people I no longer talk to.
Some are still my buoy when I’m in the middle of a tsunami.
Some were meant for that exact chapter—to teach me something, to send me off from the end of the dock (quite literally, since my graduation party was at the finish line tower where I had rowed so many races… blood, sweat, and tears—rarely, but it happened).
And I think that’s the thing about people—
some start as buoys and become lighthouses,
steady but farther away.
And some…
get pulled under entirely,
disappearing into the depths like they were never meant to stay.
But what caught me most off guard wasn’t the tone of the messages—
it was how people saw me back then.
Because perception is reality… just not the full picture.
Some were funny:
“Madison, ur kewl. Have fun at USC ;)
PS You gotta kik?” — Luke“SHE LOVES TROJANS” — Raj
“Don’t be sober” — James
Which… tracks.
Others came from people I’ve drifted away from—different islands, different lives—but I found myself reading their notes more carefully.
Like they might hold a clue to who I was… or maybe still am.
“In high school you were one of the most genuine people I knew. You were always there when anyone needed help… I’m so excited to see where life takes you! Gonna miss you, Cali girl :)” — Hannah
“You never fail to put a smile on others’ faces. I know you’ll continue to do so for years to come. Good luck at USC—you will be missed <3.”
Then there was this one:
“Oh Madison,
Drink as much as possible
Do not regret anything—it makes you who you are later on
Do not go home with someone you don’t know
Always watch your drinks
Use the Trojans!!! (context: one of the rowing moms got me a Costco-sized box… hilarious, thank you Janee)
Call your mom
Take school seriously—I actually mean that
Call Mollie
Enjoy every second—it goes by so fast
—Mollie’s mom, Janee”
Some were from people no longer in my life for reasons that feel less like “we grew apart” and more like… Pearl Harbor, but make it personal.
No one left unscathed.
“Lil sis, I am so proud of you… I can’t wait to come visit you in Cali…
Love you so much,
Big Sister
Aka the ugly sister”
That one stopped me.
Because our relationship was always complicated—comparison, tension, things said and unsaid
But seeing her call herself the “ugly sister”… that stuck with me.
To have someone feel that way because of my existence—even if I was the one who ultimately became the castaway.
And then there are the people who are still my buoys—the ones I hold onto when the waves get too high and may eventually become lighthouses.
“MK, I’m so glad we became soul sisters this year… Good friends are few and far between, and I’m so blessed to have you in my life. Keep it wild, spirit animal!
Love you long time, Brinn”
“MK, I’ll keep this short:
Have fun
I’m your best friend
Don’t say no to drugs or alcohol ;)
NO fuckboiiis
I LOVE YOU
You’re MY person
—Kim”
Brinn and I are still close—we’re about to see each other in two weeks for another one of our high school friends’ bachelorette parties. Some things don’t really change… just better outfits and slightly worse hangovers.
Kim and I just had a Dallas weekend where I debriefed her on my mom’s whole saga of Who TF Did I Marry—which, honestly, deserves its own limited series.
The kind of weekend where you laugh about things that probably shouldn’t be funny, and talk through things that don’t quite make sense yet.
And I think that’s what I kept coming back to while reading these—
because the people in these bottles—past and present—have shaped me in ways I probably didn’t realize at the time.
But what hit the most wasn’t just reading these.
I was wondering what version of me they thought they were writing to.
And whether she’d even recognize who I’ve become now.
Kim sent me something the other night—one of those prompts about writing something you love about a friend.
And I didn’t expect it to hit me like it did.
She wrote about how I show up for people—even when things are hard.
How I stay positive.
How I come out stronger.
And I sat there reading it, thinking—
Is that really how people see me?
Because lately, I’ve felt like I’m barely keeping my head above water.
Like I’m just trying to survive the waves, not exactly strength through adversity.
But maybe that’s the thing about being at sea—
You don’t always see yourself clearly while you’re in it.
And maybe I was never really lost.
Just out at sea long enough to realize…
maybe I’ve always known how to find my way back to the light.