I have to say, I'm not enjoying this working-very-hard-again thing.
I'm not enjoying spending my nights and weekends at the computer, head in work.
Not enjoying never being fully in the full moment with my family but instead, filling my life with an ocean of incomplete and unfinished moments that just make everyone grumpy.
The year that I spent writing and being a mum seems like a long-ago dream, fading into the that-was-so-nice-puddle of "things that used to be fun".
And it's a shame because I think I was particularly talented at not working.
Waking to the knowledge that my days were endless sea of beckoning potential.
Without practicing or panicking in any way, I drifted happily from working too much, for too long, far too often...... to not working at all.
It was a seamless transition.
At 50 I feel it should be time to start working less, not more.
"But what did you do all day?" friends ask me, when I explain that I feel a return to joblessness is definitely a day dream of mine.
And I try to remember.
Our house was definitely tidier than it ever has been before or since.
We had more pairs of matching socks.
I was always here when the kids got home from school.
I had time to sit down and really talk to them if they wanted me to or, at the very least, provide them with an unending supply of almost healthy snacks.
Dinners were unburnt and mostly ready in time.
I caught up with friends -not just a rushed meeting but with time to talk and, more importantly, to listen.
I wrote and wrote...and laughed and laughed..
I did things because I wanted to, not because I had to.
I did what I thought to be right, not what I knew to be wrong because the powers-that-be told me I had to.
I said what I knew to be true, instead of conveying a twisted version of the truth.
I felt complete and in control of all that matters to me.
"
Ok, ok," my friends say, backing away from the wave of almost desperate determination that they can feel washing towards them. " We were only asking. Stop working then....if it's so important. Don't explain it to us anymore. We believe you."
And so I stop talking.
But I can feel them still.
Those dreamy days so full of possibility.
I do know how lucky I am.
I know there are people forced to stay at home through illness or redundancy or injustice.
I can imagine how they must long to be part of something bigger than themselves, how they must feel that their four walls have become a prison., that they are losing their identity in a career-oriented world, that what they do has no value. .
I understand that it is easy to feel that you have been forgotten.
But what is important, is that we do not let our jobs define us.
What is important, is not what we do but who we are.
What matters is not whether we get promoted or follow a career trajectory that was planned by someone else but that we care enough about each other to make the world a better place.
We are, each of us, the carriers of a hidden pearl.
They are our certainty and our hope.
They are all that we believe in and know to be true.
They are what makes life worth fighting for.
In these times of swirling confusion and fear, when all that was certain yesterday seems uncertain today, those pearls are the potential we have been reaching for.
And we don't need to wear suits or ties or high heels to find it, we just have to let go of our vulnerability and open our protective shells.
Whatever we do, whoever we are: worker, dreamer or just be-er, all that matters is that we find our hidden pearl and make it glow.
And if you can do it, so can your partner or your children or your neighbour
One glowing pearl might not be enough, but a whole string of them.....that might just be indestructible.
So, perhaps today, instead of sitting in front of my computer, I will start the search for my inner pearl- I wonder if I can find it while I am matching socks!
Today I turned 50,
Turning 50 I not something I've been looking forward to but strangely, it's not something I've been dreading either.
It's just a number, one number more than I was yesterday..
I remember meeting 50 year-olds when I was a teenager and wondering what it would feel like to be quite that old.
And here I am, exactly that old, and I'm not sure how it feels but I am almost sure that it was only moments ago that I was wondering.
Time has always seemed to move in unpredictable waves,.
Some long, boring days seem to last years while whole decades can pass by in an instant...
But, however it moves, time can't prevent some of the home-truths that turning 50 has forced me to face.
I can no longer pretend, when I look in the mirror, that my body isn't drooping.
I can no longer pretend that my hair isn't more grey than brown or that my wrinkles aren't more permanent than temporary.
I no longer hope that I will write a great masterpiece some day,,, some day has passed.
I no longer imagine that I will be the perfect parent .......my kid's are too honest for that.
I no longer believe I'm right all the time (only most of it)......it's too tiring.
I no longer pretend to understand how to work the TV remote control....it's easier to hand it over to someone who does.
I know that I have lived more of my life than I have left to live
And I know for sure that if I drink too much, it will take me days not hours to recover.
And yet..and yet...
As I enter my second half century, i can't help feeling that I have more to celebrate than to regret.
I have a loving family who never cease to fill me with awe and wonder at all that they are and do and will become.
I have friends who are kinder and more caring than I could possibly deserve.
I am never lonely.
My days are full of light and colour and laughter (apart from when they are full of bad moods and shouting and grumpiness)
My nights are never empty - how could they be with so much good TV!
And if I ever want to escape from it all....I have my blog.
Life is not about the number of years you have lived but about what you have done with them..
And I don't mean grand gestures that have changed the world - those world-changers are few and far between.
What is important is that you have not wasted the years, that you have been brave enough to do what you believe is right, strong enough to face the consequences, humble enough to admit when you are wrong., whimsical enough to follow your dreams.
ti is not our age that defines us but our actions - which, in many ways, is unfortunate.
So, I'm hoping to move into my 51st year with a clean slate - no more pouring bottles of red wine over brand new cream carpets, no more secretly inviting live bands to play at a party when you are living in the basement, no more permanently borrowing bar stools from pubs, no more climbing pillars in car parks. (.....well.. less often at least..).
And here' s the thing...however old you are, there are some things you never have to give up:.
You don't have to give up chocolate or cheesecake or "twisted pear," cocktails.
You should never stop hoping or dreaming or believing that a little bit of magic would make the world a better place.
So here I stand, balanced on the edge of my second half century, certain that life is full of potential and that magical things do happen.
And waiting, just waiting ,for my next big adventure to begin...wherever it takes me..
As one of my birthday cards says: The older you get, the better you get....unless you are a banana.
It's strange this time between Christmas and New Year.
Like a no-man's time of in-between days
Between Christmas and New Year.
Between this year and next year.
Between the over-indulgence of Christmas and the resolutions of New Year.
But while we waiting for all those next things to happen, we just sort of carry on doing all the things we were doing at Christmas: eating, drinking, spending too much money, but with a bit less enthusiasm.
The Christmas decorations and flashing lights that looked so exciting at the beginning of December, look slightly forlorn now, like has-been film stars who still want people to believe they are young and beautiful and full of promise.
The excitement and interest in new presents has waned and for parents of young children, the days return to their normal wrong-side-of-6-am starts and tantrum-filled evenings.
And for the rest of us, who are lucky enough to not yet have to go back to work, the days are mostly full of crisps, staling crackers, cold turkey and all the tear-jerking movies we don't want to admit we love.
There are, of course, " The Sales," casting their elbow-sharpened, mania-inducing, bargain-hunting shadow over these half-hearted days.
People queueing outside shops at 5 o'clock in the morning to make sure that they get to the " must-have," bargains before anyone else
But even the most die-hard consumers can't keep it up for a week and in the end, they too have to surrender to the inbetweeness of it all, to the knowledge that the next part of the year isn't here yet.
But there are worse things to surrender to.
Worse things than snuggling up on the sofa with an oversized packet of crisps-( the crisps you're going to give up eating in the New Year so you might as well eat the whole packet now ) - and a glass of the Baileys you only drink at Christmas.
Worse things than waking up in the morning and knowing you don't have to get up and go to work or school.
Worse things than watching good films on TV and relaxing together.
Worse things than knowing that the day is yours to fill.
Because the good thing about these in-between days, is that most of the holiday obligations are over.
You've seen all the family members you're meant to have seen, bought all the presents you're meant to have bought, sent all the cards you're meant to have sent - there is nothing left that you're meant to do, so instead you are free to do whatever you want.
Perhaps these in-between days are not so much "no-man's time," as "an island of time," when we can bask in the warm feeling of having nothing-in-particular to do and relax in the knowledge that we can do whatever we want.
They are rare, these days of "no-strings-attached -indulgence," so the best thing to do, is enjoy them.
And who knows...perhaps these days of faded Christmas decorations and leftover mince pies are the very days that dreams are made of, or if not, they are the very days that sleep is made for, so that there's a lot more time for dreaming!
Enjoy...
