This week is my birthday week and I feel really weird about it. Every 3 to 4 years I get in a funk about my birthday and this year seems to be one of them. (Once I ripped down all the banners over my desk at work, then was absolutely mortified the next day bout my outburst and spent week apologising to my colleagues).
I’m never really sure where this funk comes from. Is it because my dad walked out on my birthday? Is it the fear of getting older? Or the disappointment of not being exactly where I thought I’d be? Is it I prefer others birthdays to my own?
I’ve been doing quite a bit of navel gazing about it.
I don’t think it’s what happened with my father, it was 27 years ago. I feel I worked through this about 7 years ago and it felt like a great weight had been lifted.
I don’t think it’s the disappointment of not being where I thought I’d be either. After a long time coming, I’m content.
I always pictured living in a big, old, stylish Victorian revamped house with cool old tiles in the hall way and stained glass windows. That I’d come home from my Director position and kiss my adorable children on their little heads.
Whilst it was a lovely dream to have and it’s scary restarting a career at 37 (gulp), I’m actually pretty excited about the whole thing. I’ve been doing a ton of pre course reading, practicing maths and looking at career plans.
So I’m thinking it’s the fear of getting old. Or more to the point my body changes linked to the passing of time. I look at myself in the mirror and don’t recognise myself from the girl I was about 3 years ago.
I ask the mirror can my boobs get any lower? Will I ever see my feet again? Will my hair ever be blonde again? What’s with all this grey? Where the hell have my cheek bones disappeared to? What are these wrinkles around my eyes? Where is the girl who laughed freely in Vietnam 3 years ago? Who travelled fearlessly, making friends easily whilst discovering new places?
I read somewhere that getting old is a gift, which some aren’t lucky enough to experience. And I agree with this sentiment completely. I’m lucky to reach this birthday, to have my beautiful daughter, my lovely husband and our little home. But even though I know this, it doesn’t stop the funk about the body changes.
I’m practicing accepting this with yoga, my skin care routine and trying to drink a ton of water. I’m lightly exercising and hope to build on this.
On another note I was thinking about my birthday last year. BB was 4 months old. My husband wanted to take me out got a nice meal and all I wanted to do was go and get black out drunk without any childcare responsibilities.
So that’s what I did. I went a friends, drank until 3am, passed out, vomited and wondered why I felt so rubbish for days after. I felt mentally checked out of motherhood and marriage for at least a week.
This year we’re spending the day together, eating good food, going the park for BB to play on the swings and curling up together during her nap time. The me last year would have sneered at this. It would’ve been my worst nightmare.
Now there’s no where else I’d rather be.
Happy Wednesday everyone. Sorry for all the waffle today