Jordana Brewster: I Found the Love of My Life—And Myself—After Divorce
When I married Andrew, I thought it was the right time. I was 27, and in retrospect, that seems really young, but I was in a rush. Why wait when you can get it done now? I’ve always been that way. From ages 15 to 18, I starred on As the World Turns while attending the Professional Children’s School in New York. I didn’t want to take my time and only try to act after graduating school. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it while I was still a kid supported by my parents. Practical, yes. But I was also—as always—in a rush.
At 18, I starred in The Faculty and The Invisible Circus before beginning my freshman year at Yale University. I studied hard Monday through Thursday in New Haven and then took the Metro North train to New York to audition and—I won’t lie—have fun. I dated actors and athletes 10 years older than me, but none of the relationships was very serious. I was fractured: one version of myself at home or school, and another in the relationship. At school I wore no makeup, chain-smoked, and lugged my giant backpack from class to class. I loved sitting in lectures and taking notes. But in the city, with my boyfriends, I wore the proverbial mask. I was the perfect-looking girlfriend in the stands at the baseball game or party. My boyfriends never saw me as a whole because I didn’t let them.
After graduating from school, I moved to Los Angeles. It was difficult for me to go from having a set structure—school and work—to none at all. I could wake up whenever I wanted, go to bed whenever I wanted. My day was wide open, which is a disaster for type-A personalities like mine. I dated a few guys, but all of the relationships were peripheral. I was a little lost, hopping from set to set and relationship to relationship and unable to find my true footing.
Fast-forward four years: I booked a job in Austin for Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I met Andrew on set. One month after we wrapped the film, we moved in together. We were married a year later. Rush, rush, rush. I was in a massive transition, but I didn’t really acknowledge it. In reality, he was my first real boyfriend. The first person I allowed to see me fully. The first person I spent more than the perfunctory weekend with. I guess I wasn’t ready.
“I was so focused on the number on the scale…that I ignored all other problems.”
The first year of our marriage, I started to binge and developed an eating disorder. He was kind and safe and supported me. I knew something was wrong with me. I had no creative output or outlet. I felt isolated, and the passivity drove me crazy. While my husband worked a full day on set, I would do the occasional audition. I was bored. I would raid the mini bar at the Four Seasons for snacks and then promptly go downstairs to make sure it was restocked and paid for before my husband realized anything was missing. I had a buzzing sense of chaos within me that clashed with my actual inertia. I was stuck.
A couple of years later, my disorder swung to the other extreme, and I started to restrict rather than binge. The cliché that controlling your food gives you the illusion of control of your life is true. But it also does something else: A fixation with your body gives you tunnel vision. I was so focused on the number on the scale and the number of calories I consumed in a day that I ignored all other problems. I didn’t look closely at my career, my marriage. Years of therapy helped me through my control and eating issues, and now I’m lucky to be at a level of peace with my body. If body issues do come up, I deal with them head-on.
But early in our marriage, my husband and I started leading parallel lives. We were both effective in managing our work (he was busier professionally and traveled much of the year) and home lives. Once we stopped jumping the initial hurdles that a couple does—baby, surrogacy, two house renovations—I realized something was missing for both of us. When there wasn’t a project to invest in together, we didn’t have much to say to each other.
Once I slowed down and got quiet, I could hear myself saying, “We are not on the same page. I can either remain in this comfortable zone and distract myself, or I can face what is not working in my life and fix it.” I chose the latter. During this time I would wake up at 4:30 a.m., run on my treadmill, and listen to Glennon Doyle’s Untamed. It was the only time I could take a deep breath. I knew then that something had to shift.
Most of why my marriage didn't work was not my ex-husband’s fault. He loves work. He loves being on set, on location. I knew this from ages 27 to 32, but it became a problem for me once the kids were older. I wanted a partner.
So, toward the beginning of the pandemic, Andrew and I decided to separate. The combination of being apart for most of the year for many years and growing apart emotionally took its toll.
Mason and I had met once, while we were both still married, four years ago. At a lunch with mutual friends, he sat next to my then husband, and they talked about Hollywood. I’m always shy in new social situations, so I excused myself and wandered around Park City. But I took note of Mason; he was cute, charming. Shortly after that lunch I started following him on Instagram. I enjoyed his sweet, self-deprecating humor. His intelligence made him all the more attractive. He started following me as well. My heart would leap as soon as he liked a post or commented on something I’d written. We had similar backgrounds: We’d grown up abroad, ping-ponging from England to Brazil (me) and Indonesia (him).
Four days after I separated from Andrew, I was on a plane to San Francisco to visit this man I had met only once but who had stayed on my mind. I knew he'd been separated for two years. I wanted to see him, to confirm whether the image I’d built up in my mind matched reality. What I got was far more than I expected.
When I landed, Mason was at the bottom of the escalator, holding a sign with my name on it. My heart was fluttering like a hummingbird. I felt at once super panicked but also strangely grounded. I couldn’t help but move toward him. He took me into his arms and we embraced. For five minutes. In our masks. Everyone at the arrival terminal walked around us. During a time when the world avoided all contact, when it was mandated that everyone stay six feet apart, Mason and I blended into each other. I thought, Please kiss me. And he did.
“At 40, I cracked myself open and put it all on the line.”
From that day on Mason and I saw each other every other week. We began thinking about how to blend our families. Therapists and friends urged us to slow down, to enjoy the time alone, but we knew this was right. I guess what didn’t work for me last time was working for me now.
Friends asked me about my kids and the toll it would take on them. They saw my decision as sudden, impulsive. The problem was that they didn’t know it was 13 years in the making. What seemed like a huge event was in fact a slow unraveling. They just didn’t look close enough. That, or I’m a good actress.
In my 20s and most of my 30s, I second-guessed every move or decision I made. In my 40s, I know what I value and am proud of decisions I can make on my own. My newfound security helps my kids in the long run. I know that in my heart. I also feel like I finally have a partner.
One of the best things—and there are many—that Mason said to me was “I will hold you in the light.” It’s a Quaker saying that means “lifting you up to light and goodness so you can have hope and peace.” Mason told me this when I was going through a particularly rough patch. He repeats it every time there is a challenge, whether it be with our kids, separation, career.
I sometimes mourn the fact that my boys won’t grow up in a home with their mom and dad together. But I remember they are also growing up in a home with a mom who lives authentically. Families come in all different shapes and sizes, and it’s a real gift that in 2021 we are what we make them.
I still speed up sometimes. I’m already planning my second wedding in my head. But I stop myself when I get that rushed, buzzy feeling. I stop. I breathe. I write. Mason also calls me on it, which is helpful. I found it. I found him. I can slow down. And I do.
Ultimately my divorce wasn’t my fault or my ex-husband’s fault. At 27, I was not ready to be emotionally open or vulnerable. I wasn’t ready to really let someone in. At 40, I cracked myself open and put it all on the line. With that came the collateral damage of my first marriage, but by risking it all I gained the love of my life.
Jordana Brewster stars in Universal Pictures's F9—the ninth installment of the Fast and the Furious franchise—which has earned more than $5 billion around the world. In theaters June 25.
Originally Appeared on Glamour
