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Turning 46 – and not thinking I would (Oh, and some stuff about debauchery)
Tomorrow is my birthday.
I will be 46. (I actually had to do the math today on a calculator – I wasn’t sure if I was going to be 46 or 47 … any of you forget too?)
*TANGENT* I’ve written a couple of posts that I deleted – because they contained photos I thought were beautiful, but they WERE me in various states of undress. Artistic though – no boobs or privates. I deleted them because I try to keep this site at least rated ‘PG’ – but I’m posting these pics now – and NOT deleting because at 45, almost 46, I should have confidence. I should document myself before I sag, and I should trust that those of you reading this, are READING because you like the written word and probably have some tolerance and admiration for self-expression. I need to trust this. So here we go. The photos I posted, then woke up and thought “FUCK! That’s TOO X-rated for my site!” When they’re SO not.
*TANGENT OVER*
Me, in the ‘Sideways’ (movie) chair – the light playing on my undies is the sun coming through the wicker holes. I keep telling myself, “It’s just a bare back! CHILL!”
My legs and tummy. Jim caught the perfect angle. And again, I had to tell myself to chill – it’s not Xrated.
Just legs. And I love the light from the door window shutters playing across them.
I’ve never been one of those chicks that have multiple ’29th’ birthdays, refusing to hit their 30’s – or have ever lied about my age. Ok – to be fair, I DID age myself in my handwritten English passport when I was 20 to be able to accompany my English friend to a bar.
Totally worked.
But then before I traveled again, I had to get a freaking new passport.
Fail.
SO I was asked today: “Are you excited about your birthday?”
And honestly, for me at least, the older I get the less excited I get.
I’m just surprised and grateful to be alive after all the debauchery in my 20’s. I seriously, SERIOUSLY did NOT see me making it to 40.
Although, two things consistently happen on that ‘special’ day.
1. I wake up and have that momentary “It’s my birthday!” thought.
2. I want to look pretty for the day.
So when I took my quick-lunch and headed to Ross with a $9 limit (in my head) for a new dress – I was happy to leave the store with a $7.49 clearance outfit that will give me that ‘new outfit feeling.’
That feeling is so funny isn’t it?
Unless people see you week after week in the same stuff, if you’re wearing something new, no one else knows it, yet – you carry yourself differently. LOL!
Anyway – back to being an adult and not thinking I’d make it there.
I was a VERY good girl in my youth. I was. And when I hit my 20’s, I guess I felt like I had to make up for lost time.
I dated some bad boys.
I became the epicenter of some very bad things.
I recall one night, at a warehouse rave that even cops would enter, see the debauchery and decide, “Um, yeah – no – we’re not getting into this” when I had tried Ecstasy for the first and only time.
I was in the VIP room – my boyfriend at the time was DJing the event.
We were in a circle just chatting.
When everyone suddenly hushed. Now, I’m feeling good. And enjoying the moment and keep talking.
I noticed the look on everyone elses faces … and look up.
And there is a gun.
To my head.
What I hadn’t noticed, was that the host of the party, was sitting on the ground, execution style (on his knees, hands behind head) with another gun to HIS head.
They asked us to remove all jewelry and were taking the money the host charged to get into the event.
The first words out of my mouth??
“You just ruined my high.”
These were crazy times. Bonkers days that rolled into nights and back into days and “Shall we go get breakfast?” as we squinted at the sun.
There was retaliation that night.
And shortly after – a friend of ours was tortured and killed.
Dangerous times.
And I know who was behind it – and for the life of me – or for his life, I cannot remember his name.
And I’m sorry for that.
And I’m sorry that I was a part of that world.
I was also given a knife and much trust in watching the door for other raves – taking money in a city RIDDLED with gang activity.
Me?! The innocent British girl who was still playing with Barbies until 16?
So, you can see – that my 46th birthday was not anticipated.
I can thank my son for that.
But I do think back – and I look at my life today – and I think, anyone can change.
I don’t see hopelessness where others do.
I don’t see losers where others do – because ‘losers’ are a state of mind – or a stage of life.
I STILL see SUCH good.
And so tomorrow – I will be SO grateful to have reached 46. FORTY FREAKING SIX! With a healthy, loving, talented son and an amazing, talented, beautiful fiance – and embrace my years.
The first 12 of 45
I fell asleep last night wondering if musicians get goosebumps or tear up when they play their best songs live. I thought this after getting goosebumps and tearing up to this.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hUYzQaCCt2o
Comfortably Numb, live.
I drifted off to sleep having been wished ‘Happy Birthday’ from 3 countries in which I was already born – and with David Gilmore and Roger Waters echoing in my head.
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9:30 p.m. I hear my son coughing violently in the kitchen – then:
Nic: “Don’t mind me – just choking”
Me: “Obviously you’re breathing”
Nic: “ha ha. Don’t rush out to check on me or anything”
Me: “K.”
Nic: “That’s my mom!” (as if he’s got a crowd he’s informing of this. “That’s my mom ladies and gentlemen”)
I smile and close my eyes.
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10:30 p.m. Eyes back open. My son is church mousing around in the kitchen, the house shakes. He has inherited my delicate elephant stomp.
12:04 a.m. Awoke from a dream involving two special friends from the past and a mystery man – we’d gone on a crazy roller coaster and then to a Depeche Mode concert. Ended up on stage and of course, I was taking photos.
2:00 a.m. Butters stands beside my bed, breathing on me. I try to ignore her.
2:30 a.m. Butters stands closer – breathing more heavily. I get up, let dog out and leave front door open for the dog and any and all serial killers to have easier access to me while I returned to bed.
4:00 a.m. Seriously??? Dog is nowhere to be seen, so what the hell has roused me this time????
5:00 a.m. Peer at clock with gritty, tired eyes … too tired to roll them in anguish
5:30 a.m. I give up.
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Didn’t have that ‘it’s my birthday’ feeling as I scooted out of bed and wobbled to the bathroom.
I always at least have that ‘it’s my birthday’ feeling first thing in the morning (well, on birthday mornings anyway, not every morning obviously)
I guess 45 is the cut off for that pink frosted feeling.
Son sleeping, dog still outside.
I microwave a cup of yesterdays coffee, because I’m too lazy and uncoordinated to make a new pot.
Shower cap in hand, towel at the ready, I sit and wait for my alarm, because I have no clue how to turn it off prematurely.
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6:00 a.m. Shower. I ponder while I’m in there.
Why do men have the best razors??
Seriously, considering the skin footage we women have to shave compared to men – shouldn’t ours be cutting edge? (No pun intended) and don’t give me that ‘But men have to shave their delicate angled faces’ crap, because you know as well as I do that women shave a hell of a lot more ‘delicate’ places and we have curves and angles too!
I will only buy mens razors.
7:10 a.m Dressed – still sipping my microwaved coffee – my mum calls and sings at me from the dog park.
7:20 a.m. I’m milling about the house now … always ready early – always restless.
I spy a banana in the fruit bowl that looks like a duck. I think perhaps it was bored, in there all alone – and decided to morph in order to have some fun.
I decide I like that banana instantly.
I give Butters two of her biscuits and then proceed to tip two vitamins in my hand and pop them in my mouth – along with dog biscuit crumbs.
Nice one.
*sigh* I’ll count that as breakfast.
7:35 a.m. I decide to plant a kiss on my sleeping sons cheek – he’s shirtless in bed with a sunburn
Me: “Hey naked … I’m outta here”
Him: ….
(I’m sure he’s got ‘Happy Birthday’ planned to exit his mouth later.)
Out the door I go.
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I hope for a really amazing song in the car – no luck. I end up pretending to know the words to a new Shakira song and sing out of key.
7:45 a.m. Arrive at work.
I unlock the door … notice the ‘Happy Birthday’ sign place above my desk has fallen off of the wall. I put it back up after I disable the buildings alarm. Then I wonder if that’s self-appreciating or just helpful. Decide it doesn’t matter, my OCD needs that sign back up where it was.
There is a birthday card on my keyboard.
A little while later, another card heads my way in the hands of my sweet friend Ruth. A tiny ribboned box perches atop it.
The card cracks me up.
This is it:
The little box opens to reveal a teeny tiny necklace. This friend knows me well. I love ‘little’. I love delicate. I love the necklace and she stands behind me and puts it on.
Friend: “Now we’re married.”
I’m thinking I could do a lot worse. She’s amazing. And she knows my humor and taste.
We would be bound to have a long and successful union – except she’s still madly in love with her husband.
The broker comes through the door with the most adorable tulips – and yes, they’re for me.
I’m feeling spoiled – and it’s only 9:15 a.m
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10:48 a.m. Finally got a Happy Birthday from my son.
He has accompanied his girlfriend to the dentist and the following instant messages ensued:
Him: I just saw a turtle wet a fallen flower
Him: *Eat
Me: It would have been funnier if it HAD wetted it
Him: Lol, well the flower just fell from a nude into the water, and the turtle ate it and went underwater, So I guess he did. Lol
Me: Nude??
Him: Bush*
Me: I don’t even want to know why your ipad confuses ‘bush’ with ‘nude’ lmao
Him: lol, oh no.
Him: Happy birthday by the way
Me: Finally
We have the strangest conversations. I hope he doesn’t eat the duck banana before I can point it out to him.
Yeah sure, I could show him a photo – but it’s so much better to meet a duck banana in the flesh … peel?
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My boss takes me to lunch from 11:30 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. We sit outside and chat. The view is gorgeous. I enjoy her company. We shared a room on a business trip to Phoenix a while ago – and over 8 hours in the car together. I like her. That’s the true test you know, a long car ride and sharing a room successfully.
I have the Mahi-Mahi wrap with wasabi and soy – SO good.
First meal of my 45th year, other than that dog biscuit crumb I had for breakfast.
You know, I never thought I’d make it to 30, let alone 40 … and now I’m half way to 90 for crying out loud!
And 90 is doable. Considering my little and delicate nannie just celebrated 91.
If I wore her on a necklace, close to my clavicle, she might see 101.
Home now, my parents have just left – and wouldn’t you know it? A pink frosted thing came with them.
I’m too full and too tired to eat any of it – but after the first 12, I did catch a glimpse of that ‘it’s my birthday’ feeling.
Enough
The 29th was my 44th birthday. It was unlike any other.
Other than the fact that I spent it alone after work, I just felt different.
Okay, if I’m being fair, the quiet house and the importance, to me, of the special post I wrote that night was a pretty awesome way to spend my birthday.
Up until this year though, it seemed no matter how many birthdays I’ve had, I always experienced that twinge of excitement either the night before or morning of.
That warm, fuzzy, childlike moment when your head tells you “It’s my birthday!”
Not this year.
I’m glad I was born, don’t get me wrong. And I am grateful for life every day.
Flashback time … gather ’round. Little story for you.
When I was 9 or 10, and living in England, I had a rather complicated appendectomy. It resulted in staying in hospital longer than the other children. They went home minus their appendix and I waved goodbye, wishing I was going home too.
My poor (now 40-year-old) Teddy had to have an appendectomy too. I performed it. We had to match 😉
A while after that surgery, (and after I finally got to go home) I became very ill. I was misdiagnosed with gastric flu.
I got sicker.
My mum, deciding it was ridiculous that I could not even keep a drop of water down, walked me to the doctor. (Yes, we walked. We didn’t have a car, we walked everywhere.)
When she got me inside the practice, the doctor took one look at me and said something along the lines of “Oh God, she’s in trouble.”
An ambulance was called.
I remember being very aware of my surroundings. I was so excited to be in the ambulance! It was my first time after all! I remember chattering on and on to the doctors and nurses when we arrived at the hospital.
My mum had promised me I could have Ribena (A blackcurrant drink in the UK) I specifically recall telling them this as they wheeled me down a hall on a gurney.
I also remember wondering why they didn’t seem to care! LOL!
Their faces were serious and they were in a hurry.
Turns out, scar tissue from my mucked up appendectomy had grown around my intestines, resulting in strangulation.
Also turns out, due to dehydration and the seriousness of the diagnosis, had my mother not brought me in, I would have had died within half an hour.
I lived. (Obviously. That always cracks me up, when someone is telling a serious story and it gets to a dangerous and life threatening part and the listener, with wide eyes, asks, “Did you make it??”)
The surgery was a success. I recall the doctor telling me that he cut me so that I could wear a bikini and the scar wouldn’t show. (Dude! I’m 10!)
I used to hate that scar! I even got my belly button pierced years ago so that the jewelry would be the first thing I noticed while looking at my naked body, instead of the scar.
I still rock the piercing, but I look in wonderment and respect today at my scar, my reminder of how near to death I was.
Then came the partying. SO much partying. I treated my body like a carnival for a while. Albeit a carnival in a bad part of town with really crappy rides … but a carnival none the less. (Debauchery Soup people, Debauchery Soup.)
I lived.
Ever wonder why? “Why am I here?”
I have throughout the years pondered that question.
Was I spared for Nicholas to be born? Is he to be someone great?
Obviously as his mother I can tell you he already is someone great, but you know what I mean.
Like a Terminator type ‘great’ – “He will save the world in the future! So you shall live to bear this child!”
That kind of great.
On a serious note, a friend of mine lost her partner the other day – whenever I would call her to chat, or get advice, I could hear him in the background saying “Tell her she’s enough!”
Tonight my friend Samantha had posted on her wall: “People who tell you how to be a better person, offer advice, point you to their path or try to fix you, don’t realize that they are already enough.”
I liked that.
I like the thought that everyone is right where they are meant to be. And not only am I enough, but so are they. Just as they are.
(And if no one has told you today, “You are enough. And you are loved.”)
Lately I’ve been feeling like more than enough. I’m filled with a magical, mystical sense of hope and life.
I feel every experience I have had in these 44 years is soon to reveal a purpose. A destiny. A bell has been rung.
And thank God I’m ready for that! Because I am so very grateful for everything I already have. I do not want for anything. I have shelter, food, family, friends.
I have passions and causes.
Dreams and desires.
Yes, something has been awakened in me.
It truly has been a week of birth.
Debauchery Soup 