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Birthday!
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Last night I reached 44! For me that is an achievement in itself. A nice neat and tidy number, forty-four years I would not change for the World. All the ups and downs, good times and bad, friends long since gone, old acquaintances and new mates; all part of a learning process, not yet completed. After all these years, still making the same mistakes; memories of wonderful and not so wonderful times and the Middle age years, that creep up on you so very, very fast. When you write the number down, it somehow gains more significance, bold, brassy in your face, ringing in the changes of a lifetime and a lament for those lost teenage years, carefree, trouble free and fond occasions with happy endings and meaningless outcomes!
Most Birthdays pass in the same way - a little bit of depression, nothing out of the ordinary and then get wasted in the evening and let another year pass by, into my own personal history file of non-events. Most meant very little, apart from a bit of self-indulgent soul-searching and the nervous consumption of two hundred cigarettes or so!
During my late twenties and throughout my thirties, I used to get terribly upset and down about getting older. That was the age I truly watched my life flash before me. Grey hair became more than black, worry lines got deeper, the bags became darker and bodily functions become a topic of concern. Little things, minor ailments, nothing too serious; I used to worry so much about nothing of real importance.
When one worries about something, that can't be changed, one can read much into ones own manifestations and skewed thoughts. Things feel worse than they really are! I used to have a worrying nature; I would suffer anguish and distress so much, that it would add extra importance to the very problems I sort to address. A long period of Bulimia and self harm, purely because of a vicious circle of fear and uncertainty. Part of a self diagnosed list of nothingness, that became something a little more edgy and fear driven!
My thirties were traumatic with self-induced delusions of old age; yes, unbelievably, old age at thirty. Looking in a mirror I tried to cover up the lines of my life, the bald patch and the extra chins, slowly settling comfortably into place! It was a ridiculous attempt to stem the tide of ageing, pre-programmed into us all. These were merely surface changes, cosmetic, hiding what really is going on. It made one feel a little less vulnerable, just storing up a multitude of problems for Middle age!
A period of reflection as another year passes quickly by is healthy. Huge weight loss, falling to seven stone and rising to eighteen stone in rapid succession, has caused an untold amount of damage. The pleasure of being awarded Arthritis, height loss and cardiac problems, for the cosmetic pretence of conforming to what others expect, is a costly price to pay. A short term fix, that was oh so sexy; sexy, to whom, certainly not me?
Reaching forty was a relief, I had no expectations any more; I was able to be who I wanted, Saying and doing what made me happy. There was no pressure from society to be a carbon copy; I couldn't give a damn what people thought. White hair, lived in face, a gut, man boobs, hairy ears and nose, point-blank I did not give a toss! Who am I kidding, I have a large tide to stem and not enough years to stop it! Today I am just happy to be alive, have a bit of arthritis and long faded looks, but a partner to share all the fun caring times ahead; that's a bonus!
It was lovely to see some real old friends at my 44th last night. It has after all been a year since we actually reflected on past indiscretions. Putting the world to rights, we ended popular misconceptions, evident in the minds of those with lives less lived and too much time to think. Reordered and reconfigured, we helped each other battle through our own rocky roads of self-importance.
Had the best Birthday in ages, loved seeing everyone, old and new. Felt loads of love and was left with only happy memories. It felt ever so grown up, having nothing awful to report, apart from Darrell's sickness and Dales bag of pain and pleasure! Oh, and I laughed a lot; not often that happens. Thanks to everyone who came and made it special, you are all very special too!
Most Birthdays pass in the same way - a little bit of depression, nothing out of the ordinary and then get wasted in the evening and let another year pass by, into my own personal history file of non-events. Most meant very little, apart from a bit of self-indulgent soul-searching and the nervous consumption of two hundred cigarettes or so!
During my late twenties and throughout my thirties, I used to get terribly upset and down about getting older. That was the age I truly watched my life flash before me. Grey hair became more than black, worry lines got deeper, the bags became darker and bodily functions become a topic of concern. Little things, minor ailments, nothing too serious; I used to worry so much about nothing of real importance.
When one worries about something, that can't be changed, one can read much into ones own manifestations and skewed thoughts. Things feel worse than they really are! I used to have a worrying nature; I would suffer anguish and distress so much, that it would add extra importance to the very problems I sort to address. A long period of Bulimia and self harm, purely because of a vicious circle of fear and uncertainty. Part of a self diagnosed list of nothingness, that became something a little more edgy and fear driven!
My thirties were traumatic with self-induced delusions of old age; yes, unbelievably, old age at thirty. Looking in a mirror I tried to cover up the lines of my life, the bald patch and the extra chins, slowly settling comfortably into place! It was a ridiculous attempt to stem the tide of ageing, pre-programmed into us all. These were merely surface changes, cosmetic, hiding what really is going on. It made one feel a little less vulnerable, just storing up a multitude of problems for Middle age!
A period of reflection as another year passes quickly by is healthy. Huge weight loss, falling to seven stone and rising to eighteen stone in rapid succession, has caused an untold amount of damage. The pleasure of being awarded Arthritis, height loss and cardiac problems, for the cosmetic pretence of conforming to what others expect, is a costly price to pay. A short term fix, that was oh so sexy; sexy, to whom, certainly not me?
Reaching forty was a relief, I had no expectations any more; I was able to be who I wanted, Saying and doing what made me happy. There was no pressure from society to be a carbon copy; I couldn't give a damn what people thought. White hair, lived in face, a gut, man boobs, hairy ears and nose, point-blank I did not give a toss! Who am I kidding, I have a large tide to stem and not enough years to stop it! Today I am just happy to be alive, have a bit of arthritis and long faded looks, but a partner to share all the fun caring times ahead; that's a bonus!
It was lovely to see some real old friends at my 44th last night. It has after all been a year since we actually reflected on past indiscretions. Putting the world to rights, we ended popular misconceptions, evident in the minds of those with lives less lived and too much time to think. Reordered and reconfigured, we helped each other battle through our own rocky roads of self-importance.
Had the best Birthday in ages, loved seeing everyone, old and new. Felt loads of love and was left with only happy memories. It felt ever so grown up, having nothing awful to report, apart from Darrell's sickness and Dales bag of pain and pleasure! Oh, and I laughed a lot; not often that happens. Thanks to everyone who came and made it special, you are all very special too!
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