It’s been nearly six months since I blogged. Six months without my bon mots to get you through the dark winter nights and spring showers. How have you coped? Probably completely fine, I haven’t had anyone knocking down my door, begging for the latest installment in my little life.
It’s been a topsy turvy six months – I started a job, I ended a job, I started another job, I’m soon to end another job. I am on the hunt for another job. We have an obnoxious tenant who we’re having to take legal action to evict. My cat still hates me. My dad was emergency hospitalised, he’s OK now, but that started January off on an extremely stressful note. So life has been stressful (see job and tenant points above, I’m slowly coming to terms with the cat hatred) but not without some ups in amongst all the downs.
But the reason for my S&BB return is that I’ve realised I’ve been 40 for nearly six months now, and I’ve not had a complete breakdown. A round of applause for me. I’ve been wondering why my mid-life hasn’t involved a crisis (and when it does, I’d like to be in a position to afford a sports car please) though. I mean, I have the crippling pain of not one but two mortgages (thanks, obnoxious tenant), I have chosen poorly with my last two work contracts and thus need to look for another job to pay aforementioned crippling mortgages. I have a cat who hates me (OK, maybe I’m not as over this as I thought), I have a few marital woes, nothing major or that I can write about here (as it’s not just about me, you see – unlike everything else in the world). I have a sickly dad and he’s also old so there’s that constant spectre hanging over the door. What else?
I have been suffering with chronic eczema (due to work and life related stress and possibly because of the evil cat – I have a mild allergy, yet she still doesn’t find it in herself to love me – the bitch) for the last six months, leaving my back looking a little like a lizard. I have truly joined the realms of madness – I think I’m half lizard. Do cats like lizards? Maybe this is the reason for my cat hating me. I have yet to find a cure or anything to stop the incessant itching, despite giving up literally everything to see what is causing it – so I can only put it down to stress. Any cures/remedies – send them my way.
And the country is in the grip of a maddening referendum debate about the EU which has turned into crazy xenophobic scaremongering by the Leave campaign, which is making me feel like the country I was born and brought up in isn’t one that wants me in it. I mean who wouldn’t want an unemployed, scaly lizard person of the landlord classes being part of their country?
And 49 people got killed for their sexuality in Orlando. And an MP got shot for doing her job by someone who believes in Britain for the British (and his interpretation of British does not include the likes of me.) Jo Cox was a 41 year old woman who has done more with those additional 12 months that I have done in my 40 years on the planet. And that brought me right here to talk about my 40 something non-crisis.
From all the tributes, she seemed like an amazing woman – there has not been one negative word said about her, in any of the obits I’ve read. She was determined, committed, compassionate, kind, caring – she just gave of herself to make the world a better place.
And that got me to thinking about where I expected to be at 40 when I was 15. I mean 40 at 15 was a lifetime away. And at 11, I fully expected to be married and living in a castle with 450 screaming brats being looked after by their nannies, whilst I travelled the world and wore Dior and had a matching set of Globetrotter luggage. And none of those things have happened (and Dior doesn’t make clothes for people who have asses the size of mine).
The 25 years since 15 have been filled with a lot like meeting the man I fully intend to spend the rest of my life with (and several ‘frogs’ before him), buying two houses, travelling, building my career (to the heady heights of nearly unemployment now – woo!) and just generally meeting wonderful people who I am honoured and #blessed to call family. Or framily if you want to use a really ugly word. And my actual family – being the world’s best aunty ever takes a lot of work, but that’s work that I really don’t mind doing. Whilst the numbers may have gone up and down over the last 25 years, there are people I value more than life itself amongst my family and framily.
But what else have I actually achieved? That’s the sum total of my 40-something crisis, I think. I’d like to think I’d done good things but the reality is that I haven’t done bad rather than actively doing good. And I don’t really think I’ve ever had proper ‘goals’ (apart from castle, sprogs, Dior). So maybe that’s what I need to do, set myself some goals that’ll help the world be a better place and by doing so, I’ll finally achieve some actual good and go into the next decade with a 50-something crisis that involves more than still wishing that I had a set of Globetrotter suitcases.
The sum total of this post is, I want to do good things and whilst I’m not unhappy with my little life (in fact, I’d say I’m actively contented), I want to be able to do more with it. So watch this space, a change is coming. But not until I’ve caught up on the latest episodes of whatever’s on Netflix to binge on. Change takes time, right?
PS for want of better images, I’m using pics from recent holidays as I find holidays inspiring.