Monday, May 27
Today it is my birthday.
Last year I couldn't understand my colleague not wanting his birthday to be known. And this year I feel the same. To be honest, its not the fear of being the centre of attention. Its the fear that I won't be anymore. Nobody makes a fuss anymore over my birthday - maybe its only our mums that make a fuss over us. It makes me miss my mum (as do most things in life)
This year I am closer to 50 than 45. My friend who is a therapist says that birthdays are a time for reflection - to look at the girl you were and the woman you've become. I don't want to look at the girl I was.
I miss her too much.
What happened to her? Is that girl gone, forever, now? I just feel old. Tired. Defeated. A spinster. Fat.
I don't just feel that. I am that. I was sick earlier this year and somehow lost 2 months of my life to work and sleep - that's all I could manage while I fought the infection that had invaded my chest. I seem to have awoken with just heaps of chores piled up and a to do list a mile long. Its not exactly inspiring me to be all that I can be when I have laundry to fold and ovens to clean and a sink of dirty dishes to hand wash.
I just feel weary. A few weeks ago I thought - how did it happen? I seem to have crossed over from young to old, without noticing.
I'm sure this is the after effect of the illness. But, I'm grieving some things too. Mid life changes are really cruel to women.
I think maybe its time I start blogging again. I want to write a book. No. I don't like to say that because when people say "I want to do X or Y" it usually means I wish I had the chutzpah to do "X" or "Y" but, instead I'll talk and dream and live my little life wishing I'd done more with it. In my adult life, I've not been like that and yet, I can't seem to get going on life this year. And to say I want to write a book is endangering the life I still feel I may have left in me
So let's say - I am writing a book. I know how to write fiction and I know how to write drama. What I don't know how to write is a long work of creative non-fiction. So I've got to learn. And here is a good place to practice.
Yesterday I was feeling a bit (ok a lot) down about turning 48 and being single, fat and not where I want to be in my personal life, with my health, in my career or financially. I got out the oblique strategy cards that an ex boyfriend (about whom I'm sad about him at the moment) bought me for my birthday or Christmas some time ago.
I said - what do I do now to move on, feeling how I do - with a birthday looming to remind me that I'm just getting older - what do I do to move on and celebrate life...and I pulled a card.
The card read: Distorting Time
I don't want to be tired and brittle, plastic and masked. I want to find that young and pliable girl for whom everything was possible
Watch this space, my friends.
Photo by author, 2013 from Museum of London