There’s nothing else, quite like a birthday, to have you stop, reflect and perhaps even, reset.
Other than death of course.
For in truth, I’ve been struggling of late. When I say of late, the past eighteen months or so.
Up and down, in and out, yes and no, go, stop, engage, disengage, connect, disconnect, light and dark.
If only, as balanced as it sounds.
Upon this time of reflection, on this, my 47th birthday, (somebody pinch me), Happy Birthday to me, I’ve come to (re)realise a lot about myself.
In no particular order:
I’m still waiting to grow up.
I don’t know what I want to do when I do grow up.
I don’t fit in.
I’m not a leader.
I hate being fat. I hate that within the last year I’ve added 20 kilos to my body weight. If I was fat and healthy, I’d learn to embrace my body, my fatness. My fat is due to ill health, mentally, emotionally, physically and no doubt spiritually. Feeling this way makes me withdraw even further into my self. To isolate. Become unsociable. Imprison.
With that, eating disorders suck.
Mental ill health sucks too.
Treating my bipolar disorder, for the past twenty odd years, without the aid of medication, has been such a head fuck – ironically enough. (When you used said drugs to attempt to take your life, twenty odd years ago, medication was no longer an option. Now it’s just habit).
Sugar makes me crazy.
Brain trauma sucks.
Chronic and adrenal fatigue also sucks.
Over the years I’ve made plenty of mistakes and I’m sorry if you were on the receiving end of one of those mistakes. I’m sorry too, if I never said sorry to you. Please accept my apology now.
I do take things personally.
I have trouble letting go.
I’m an extremely sensitive being, on all levels.
I oscillate between not caring about what you think of me, to being paralysed by your judgments (or perceived there of).
I burden myself and others with the weighted suitcase of shame, I continue to carry around with me.
I’m an introverted extrovert.
I’ve missed hanging out with my best buddies, love and gratitude.
I’ve been such a negative Nancy. My apologies to anyone named Nancy.
I love my husband and our two offspring.
I love my family and friends.
I’m not straight. Although, exploring ones sexuality, whilst married (and to someone of the opposite sex), is incredibly challenging.
I’m constantly curious.
I love learning.
I love to write. I also judge my ability to write well. Or have something of value to say. Hence the feast and famine here in my blogosphere. I have written many a post I have not published, for fear of it not being good enough.
I love my quirkiness and uniqueness.
I’ve momentarily forgotten how to love me.
I find it challenging to surrender. Especially where pleasure is concerned.
I recognise, with all of the above, it makes me no better or worse, than anyone else.
This is simply a snapshot of me, as I be, see myself today.
With all of this, I do wonder though, have I ever met the real me? My absolute authentic self?
It’s time for change. For me to heal and be well.
Being who I be, I don’t make it easy for myself.
With all the work I’ve done on myself, I still don’t get why I am the way I am. Why making positive changes in my life has been so hard to do.
So, it’s one step at a time
One day at a time.
Starting with something simple.
Making it routine, then adding something else.
Change doesn’t have to come all at once.
I’d like to add more of what works, what I like/love and get rid off, release that which no longer serves me.
My priority is to heal my gut. I’m curious to see what effects that would have on me, specifically in meeting the real me.
Or is this the real me?
Funnily enough, I never give up. Nor do I ever say never (slaps hand to forehead! I’m sure you know what I mean).
Perhaps too, I’m more akin to the Tortoise, than the Hare. One day I’ll get there and eventually, or trusting not to far in the distant future, I’ll enjoy the here again, along the way.
So thanks for all the birthday love. I don’t feel completely deserving, somewhat maybe. I do feel grateful, humbled and loved.