Sunday morning, and we woke to light snow that quite quickly has become great big, fat snowflakes making everything look beautiful. There is the outdoor Christmas Carol service next door at the manor later; it will be cold but perfect. I’m not a church person but I do love a carol. Specifically, ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen’, ‘O Come, All Ye Faithful’ (irony), and ‘Little Town of Bethlehem’ (or whatever it’s called).
I sat with my journal just now and, because there were only two pages left and I couldn’t be bothered to go and get a new one, I did a quick “where am I today?” list. It feels like a good point to just jot it down here before doing a deeper analysis for myself no doubt overthinking it all as the year turns.
So here are my bullet points:
Definitely in a bit of “burn it all down” frame of mind.
This is a regular thing with me and usually passes!
Reading Snow Leopard by the Category Pirates here at Substack. So far so interesting. It’s “nicheing”, basically, but I’m enjoying it.
Despite the total absence of any professional role in my life at the moment, I remain fascinated by marketing, trends and ideas. It’s one of my personal paradoxes, like the fact that I’m all about the planet but I love driving cars.
Thinking about circles vs hierarchies. In friendships particularly. I know which I prefer.
This exercise is an eyeopener as I continue with what is a life’s work for all of us: discerning our own wishes/opinions/beliefs from those we’ve been taught.
Layers deep, I’ve realised that long ago it was embedded in my psyche that to ask for or expect attention from someone who matters to you is to break the eleventh commandment. You. Just. Don’t. And if you do, you will be punished with utter indifference. It will hurt and that’s because you broke the rule and you are not one of the people who gets to do that. Now sit down and be quiet.
Excavating this may be my main personal task for 2023. Side quest: understanding that for some people, you’re just not interesting enough. That’s fine and also okay bye.
Appreciating that I had managed to quell my deep anxiety around soon entering the “snipers’ alley” of my 60s, and that getting a diagnosis of spinal arthritis (AT 59!! <SHAKES FIST>) has thrown me right back into it without a flak jacket.
This is not to say I can’t do it again, it’s just that right now I’m scared. That’s okay.
Grief.
Taking a moment to watch my daughter preparing to walk on a stage and play guitar in a band for the first time in public. Getting thrown back to a room in a hotel in China and a government official handing me the most beautiful baby in the world with,”Here is your child.” Nothing will ever match it.
The sheer “look how far they’ve come” of it all made me cry and I’m glad it was dark!
Dreams of a future, maybe somewhere sunny and not here, in my place.
Dare I even, anymore? Why would I not?
Being deeply thankful that I have my lobster with whom I can traverse all this, even if he only finds out about most of it through my writing (see: Do Not Attention Seek <facepalm emoji>).
Twenty one years is an achievement I’m proud of for us, and I reckon we have at least another 21 in us.
That’s my December ‘22 stock check done. I’m not sure I’m prepared to examine the day to day of the year because frankly, it was terrible. I’m proud I’m where I am today - head above water; dreams intact, if changed; a few steps closer to knowing myself and never, ever giving up the search.
Care to give me your update in a comment? Is there room?
I turned 60 last week. My hair is white. I have a bad shoulder. I’m a shitty dresser and a lousy housekeeper. I don’t have any close friends— but somehow I’m happy! The big day was pretty uneventful. There was no party. No gifts. No phone calls from friends or family. My kids has exams. I could have been sad but I wasn’t. I was relieved to be on my own. I sat in the garden and watched the birds and drank a cup of tea and blew out a candle on a slice of tiramisu, made a wish then savored every bite. I bought myself books and art. I made myself happy. I didn’t wait for someone else to do it for me. That was the best gift.
The 1 year anniversary of my husband’s death was also this week. I've been dreading this anniversary. I’ve needed desperately to move forward but couldn't see past that date. It’s like I’ve been holding my breath for a year--but now I’ve let it out. Some of the ghosts are moving on. The house is starting to feel like mine. My life is starting to feel like mine and, much to my surprise, there is no guilt. I am not feeling sad or angry or scared because I am 60 and on my own. I’ve honored memories and fulfilled commitments as a wife. I’ve grieved the loss of my husband and father — but now I’m allowing myself to celebrate —to feel excited about my new life on my own. I am an independent, strong, free, art making woman with two beautiful, strong, art making college age daughters and I live in a wonky old cottage in overgrown woods that’s all mine to do with as I wish. I have a pack of weird and wonderful dogs and I have my work as an artist— my marvelous, fills my heart and soul work. Life is good. It wasn’t for a while but I’ve reached a clearing and I’m —relieved and content--finally. There are no men in my life now and I could write pages on how that is affecting my transformation but I’ll just say that it is proving to be liberating and magical in ways I had not anticipated. I am looking forward to seeing what the 60's bring.
I love reading someone else’s lists, it’s like peeking into a handbag so thank you for sharing this way.
I’ve convinced myself to do 20 min yoga classes two times this week, and I’ve also tested myself two times for Covid, seriously wondering how I’ve managed to escape, still, while I put masks into my bag and car as I’ve decided to stop playing roulette.
Like you, I’m thinking about circles and I am fascinated by their concentric rings. Much like the London tube system, what zone do I/we fall into and who is in the center, and why...