Time Flies ...

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.