Recently two things happened.
The first one was that I turned 50. And it felt amazing. It was a week ago, and I'm still feeling amazing. I can't say exactly why. I'm not one for milestones as such. But it just felt good. It felt good to have arrived here. It feels good to be here. I feel happy. Happy from the inside out. In general, in myself. Even when life is not perfect, I have learned to love myself. At last finally.. It's been a slow process and the last 10 years have been particularly relevant to that. In consequence, reaching 50 felt right. I feel not as if I have reached some sort of Autumn in life. From my perspective, it's barely spring. The first green leaves aren't even out yet.
The other thing that happened recently is that a once close friend has disappointed me for the second time in a decade. Not a tiny disappointment. I don't sweat the small stuff. To paraphrase another friend, I'm too old for that (50 haha, get the joke?) I don't even sweat the medium stuff all that much to be honest.. But this was not small or medium. It wasn't exactly dramatic either. It was just a what-kind-of-psychopath-does-this-shit kind of moment. I would like to say it surprised me. It didn't, not really. But it made me realise how some people grow out of old patterns as they age, and others get more and more ingrained in them. I like to believe I constantly strive to overcome old patterns that don't serve me well. And when I fail to do so, at least I don't lie to myself. I face it. Or at least that's what I honestly believe I do. Plus you need to really not have respect for the person you're dealing with to simply run away. This estrangement reminded me that sometimes, I am too much for some people. But not necessarily through some fault of my own. I actually, hand on heart, did everything right this time. My heart was fully open. I held no resentment. I was being me and looking forward to holding space for the other person to be. Just be. But my simple existence was too much. At least it's the only explanation I can find. So, I can only let them go and find people who are a bit less. Because I didn't arrive on this side of 50 to try and contain who I am.
All this to say that life on this side of 50 is feeling pretty amazing, in spite of all the ups and downs. I have my tribe of people, and they are truly fabulous. Some close by, some far away, but every single one of them I carry with me in one way or the other. I have the most extraordinary kids in the world, because, obviously, our kids are all the most extraordinary ones we know, and that's how it should be. But really, mine are brilliant. Subjectively and objectively, they are absolutely brilliant. I also have an immense love for being alive, an acute curiosity, a body that is able enough to allow me to do all sorts of great things and a creative impulse that leads me to have the most deliciously chaotic and yet rich life. I'm lucky. My life has little to show for in what seems to be the conventional way nowadays. No Instagram house, no spotless skin, no butox, no impeccable nails or hair, fancy new cars, newish phones or solid career. Nothing of that means anything to me. But I am real and colourful. The friends that I do have in my life are amazing and I love them dearly. I love my life, my messy house, my people. I am trying to redirect my life so that after years of being with the kids, I can redirect my career onto something I might actually love doing as a job.
I'm in love with my own life and I am not ashamed of that.
And for all that, I thought it was adequate to add the 'beyond 50' to my blog title. Because we are told, all the time, in this society, that we become invisible beyond 50. That our life starts going downwards instead of upwards. That we are less attractive, less interesting and less considered. But that's all a load of bullocks. I love my body more than ever because instead of measuring it through the effect it has on others, I love it for what it provides me. I love myself more than ever because I have finally realised there is nothing wrong with being spontaneous, passionate, a tiny bit chaotic and, most of the time, unapologetic about myself. I love my friends more than ever because having lived for half a century, I understand people more wholesomely. I see people's value a lot more clearly. I judge less. I get disappointed a lot less. age has taught me acceptance. Of myself, of others. But also of what's for me and what's not. Deep conversations and real people are for me. That's my realm. Chitchat and games, on the other hand, are things for which I can hold no space.
I love my life more, because I have finally started living it from the inside, taking it at face value. Rather than judging it from the outside. So I will try to keep this as a diary. A testament of how we, over 50's or all decades, are pretty much alive and as full of dreams and hopes and plans as any other age group. I still like playing and I still get excited by the small things like a 5-year-old. I randomly dance in my kitchen just because, I gaze at the stars and will be the first one to point at a rainbow. Join me in this journey if you like. There will be ramblings and photos, and personal style, and random midnight thoughts. It will be my digital scrapbook. My open diary.
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