Most Birthdays pass in the same way. A little bit of depression, nothing out the ordinary and then get wasted for the evening and let another year pass by into my very own person history file of non events, that meant very little, apart from a bit of self indulgent soul searching and the nervous consumption of two hundred cigarettes or so!
During ones 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 vary problems I sort to address. A long period of Bulimia and self harm , purely because of a vicious circle of fear and uncertainty. A self diagnosed list of nothingness that became something a little more edgy and fear driven!
My thirties were traumatic, self induced delusions of old age. Yes old age at thirty. Looking in a mirror, trying to cover up the lines of my life, the bald patch and the extra chins, slowly settling comfortably into place! A ridiculous attempt to stem the tide of ageing, pre programmed into us all. Surface changes, cosmetic, hiding what really is going on. It made one feel a little less vulnerable by 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, for ones own short term vision of a human skeleton, that was oh so sexy. Sexy, to whom?
Reaching forty was a relief. No expectations any more. Being who one wanted to be. Saying and doing what you bloody want to. No pressure from society to be a carbon copy, or rather I couldn't give a damn what people think. White hair, lived in face, a gut, man boobs, hairy ears and nose. Point blank I do not give a toss! Who am I kidding. I have a large tide to stem and not enough hours 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 must have been a year since we actually reflected on past indiscretions. Putting the world to rights and ending popular misconceptions evident in the minds of those with lives less lived and too much time to think, reorder and rumourise to help them battle through there own rocky road 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 Jason's sick and Dales bag of pain and pleasure! Oh and I laughed a lot. Thanks to everyone who came and made it special. You are all very special too!