Tomorrow is my birthday.
“Woopdee-fucking-doo” sings the sarcastic part of me.
She’s the wounded one, the lost one, the PMS-so-bad-I-don’t-know-whether-to-cackle-or-sob one. The one who just wants a cuddle and a cuppa, and a day off from her life. You may know her. She may live in you, too.
Tomorrow is my birthday and I will get my period.
Tomorrow is my birthday and I am a hormonal tidal wave.
Tomorrow is my birthday and I’m straddling two existences: wrapping up life in the UK, while planning our big move Down Under. That’s a weird feeling…being neither here nor there. Not able to end or begin anything. Mmm, that’s uncomfy.
Tomorrow is my birthday and I’m crying.
Tomorrow is my birthday and I’m lost.
Tomorrow is my birthday, and I’ll be alone. Out here in an old converted barn in the English countryside, with two anti-social boxer dogs and a cluttered kitchen I can’t clean because it isn’t mine.
And yet despite all this – despite all the longing, lostness, confusion and cramps, tiredness and “can’t be bothered-ness” and fear and fragility. The guilt at feeling ungrateful. The worries about money and time running out. The voice that says, “You’re a coach! You shouldn’t publish this sob story!” Despite it all, I’m at peace.
My feelings are my feelings. And they’re fine.
Tomorrow is my birthday and it’s OK if I don’t wake up with a glow.
Like all the days that came before, it will pass. And I will reflect, pocket the lesson, and find joy in another moment.
Tomorrow is my birthday and I feel crap and wonderful all at the same time.
Because despite it all, I feel something. And whereas Past Me would have hated myself for these feelings, and pretended to be perfect and popular and happy, Now Me can just sit with it. See it. Know it. Give it a cuddle and a cuppa.
Tomorrow is my birthday and I will just be.
Not older, wiser, bigger, bolder, smilier, happier, lovelier. Just Me.