So we are in February, we are in 2022, and I am turning 49. This number does not sit well with me.
Nearly half a century, I feel old, I look old, I look more and more like my mother, I think my nose is getting bigger, my arse and tummy are certainly gained more circumference. I feel the perimenopausal stage of my life, my periods are not always smooth, sometimes, they are horrendous. My moods have been swinging.
I have known grief, still do, I lost one husband, my father, an aunty, an uncle, a couple of grandmothers, a dear friend.
I have just left my home of the last 25 years. I miss my friends. I am wondering whether I have gone nuts to leave it all behind.
So we are in February, we are in 2022, and I am turning 49. This number is just a number.
What is good about turning 49…I am fit, I move my body, I am in good health. I have been blessed with so much love and am still.
I have just moved back to France after 25 years, no job, no house, but I have my most precious friend with me, my man. I have our dog constant source of joy and laughter.
I smell the pine forests, I smell the ocean, I listen to the pure silence, embrace the crispness of the air, I know it is right. I know to trust my guts.
My body is changing, my mind somewhat is a little sharper. I am at last gaining the confidence I didn’t have for such a long time. I am shy, very shy and people do not believe me when I say it. I am always so friendly; I always try to watch out for others.
I feel my timid self is becoming a friend, learning to accept myself.
I fuck less often but better, I swim in cold water, I challenge myself more now than ever.
Our new home awaits.
