I am 38, I think.
I’m too old to start a blog on a public forum with “My mummy says…”
My Mummy says… that yesterday’s blog needs a part B, and you know what, she’s probably right (don’t tell her, she’ll be insufferable).
I look at what I wrote at the end of September about surviving and thriving and exciting things, and then I look at what I wrote on Monday about just this pit of disappointment and things not working out the way that I wanted them to when I was 20.
And the thing is, they’re both true, and that’s ok.
It is true that my optimism, my crusading spirit, my concept that there’s something I’m meant to do in the world, and the belief that I can make things right has gone, for many reasons.
But there is a different part of it that remains and is woven into the things that I do on a daily basis. Some of these things were pointed out by my lovely family and friends after my last post. Times when I have made an impact on them and those they love and my small little band of “followers.”
But it’s alright if we feel both at different points, especially if we’re grieving (because grief is not a linear process as somebody in a seminar once told me. It’s a weird cyclical spirally cobwebby thing like those doodles that you used to do around your name at school and colour in).
So yes, Monday sucked. I listened to Train and I felt disappointed in myself and in my impact.
And I didn’t write it for people to email me or message me and say “Oh, but you’re fabulous and wonderful and I can’t believe that you don’t think you’ve had an impact!”
I didn’t do it for an ego boost, or a cry for help in an “RU Ok Hun” Facebook callout. I know some people do things like that, but I did it because that was how I felt at the time. And, if nothing else, I have always been honest in the things that I have written, and in how I’ve been feeling.
Nevertheless, it was very nice to read the things that people wrote about how I had affected them, and I am very grateful for my people and how much they look after me from near and far.
I know that I have little impacts on people around me every day. I make changes in the way I speak to my children, and teach them about the world around us. I make a difference when I write a post that makes half of the women in my family sort out their financial/death admin shit. I’m a trustee of two charities trying to do good in the world. And I’m helping stressed-out business owners get their messaging straight.
But it has to be alright to have bad days.
Right now I’m cooking dinner, because multitasking is my life, and I have to remember…well first I have to remember that I haven’t started timing the sweetcorn….
But then I have to remember that I’m not dead yet.
And yeah, I might be tomorrow, we never know how these things work out. But I’m not dead yet.
And although 38 sometimes feels impossibly old, it also often feels impossibly young. There is a lot to do, but there is a lot of time.
Right now, it is quite hard to think beyond me and mine, but maybe it won’t be forever.
Right now it’s quite hard to imagine any return to politics because the idea of traipsing around doors or going to evening meetings when I’m treading water trying to raise a family, get a business off the ground, and not overcook the sweetcorn is too much.
But it won’t always be. And that’s ok.