Where does the time go?
It has recently occurred to me that in a little over twelve
months I'll be turning 50. It's so unlike me to consider my birthday as
anything other than a date on a calendar. It has been a non-event to me for so many
years.
As a little girl, I can vividly recall feeling as
though it took forever for my birthday to roll around again. It seemed
everybody else's birthday came and went but mine was always a long, long way
off.
December was a dark mystical place, tucked away at
the end of the year in the murky distance just out of reach. Then finally,
around this end of the year, it would draw tantalisingly close to the long
awaited event. I would build it up in my mind and imagine this wonderful day
filled with bright and shiny happiness.
But for some reason, it never quite panned out that way. I'm
not sure if it was because everybody was always so frantically busy. The entire month was filled with end of
year concerts, work and school break-ups and of course, Christmas parties. Or
if it was because I had believed it held magical qualities, but my actual
birthday was always something of a disappointment to me.
Of course, there were many other childhood
incidents that set the idea firmly in my head. But by the time I was a
teenager, I had well and truly learnt my lesson. Hope only led to frustration,
dreams never really do come true. I had decided it was better to not expect
anything at all of others than to swallow another dose of that bitter disappointment
medicine again.
As a result, I developed an incredibly thick skin.
Sure, it made me strong and tough and very independent. I often referred to myself
as a cold, hard B_____ and before long, it got to the point that I couldn’t allow myself
to look forward to anything at all.
In my mind, the only way to create any opportunity
was to get out there and make it happen, myself. My success in life - as a
daughter, a woman, a wife and a mother - was my problem and mine alone.
It’s an exhausting path to choose. It’s such a long way up to the top of
the
hill, especially when you’re dragging a lead ball on a chain. It’s not easy
to let anyone else in once you’ve built up all these rock solid defenses. It’s
even harder to punch your way out without letting anyone else take a swing of
the sledgehammer
So, I've made a promise to myself that this next year will be different. I am finally going
to let go. Over the next twelve
months I will allow others in to enjoy the exhilaration of the
rushing wind as we hold hands, take the downhill run and fly out over the edge of my self-made
fortress.
By the time I reach the tender age of 50, I will be
free to be me.
