#357 - 50.2

 

There is a kind of honour in being 50. It is this sense of having survived. I feel really proud. Really proud that I have come this far - just by sheer dint of living to this age, AND also of never having compromised. Well, a bit compromised, but always on my own terms. I was looking at the boys as they cooked for me and there was a great sense of delight and pampering. I have made it this far. Life has been so kind, so good to me. I have asked and always, always received. I could not have wanted for more.

And then during the solstice and birthday celebrations, we gathered to give thanks, to bring happiness and forgiveness into our lives. To bring gratitude and acknowledgement. To say thank you, sit back and appreciate. There is so much to be grateful for. After the storms we have come home. We have arrived. 

The past year so much has happened. There has been the courage to finally let go. To say, well this didn't work. I did my bloody best and it so did not happen. And then there was the starting of a new venture which is going well. And finally, there is the writing which is slowly starting to take place. 

I know what I have to do now, literally for the rest of my life. That path is set. The next twenty years will bring many griefs. I already know of a few which I need to be prepared for. The passing of people whom I have come to rely on. I don't even know where that will be the scale of sorrow when that occurs. Then there are the worries of that which I cannot control. They are beyond my ambit. Like my children - will they turn out ok? The fear that this will not happen because you want what is best for them. That is completely separate from having done my best, doing my best, while I could. They will have to go through the pain of heartbreak, disappointment - the only thing I can do for them is be there for them. To hold and contain and heal them when these things happen. To bring the unconditional love which I have for them to bear.

Then there is the aging which I will contend with. The spiritualising of the body. I must take better care of myself. It was almost as if the last year was a blowout year for me. The last hurrah of an infallible body. From now on I must look after it as it becomes more and more fragile. I want to give thanks to my physical body for the journey it has taken me on. I never fully appreciated you I have to say. I delighted and took you for granted. I was prideful and neglectful, I just assumed things about you. But now I can no longer assume. I have always loved you though. Thank you for being such a faithful companion. Later on I will clean the games room and then go for a run. Then we will go for a shop. I did clean out the fridge. I had to throw away some cheese. Fifty years and two days. What a privilege. I have never been at war with you, perhaps stupidly overly critical, but never at war. The way so many women are at war with their bodies. Nope, never.

It is a beautiful day. A gorgeous pale silver morning with promises of sunshine and shivers in the light. Each day comes, washed on my shore, and I receive it gratefully. I know I have in the past felt awful about it. In the past I have felt angry and resentful. Some days I would wake and wish I was dead. This is hard to imagine. And also hard to imagine, as I sit here, ever feeling that ever again. It is the ultimate liberation, the ultimate freedom. Anything, just anything, is always always possible. It was ever thus and will be again.