Thirty-seven

I have now been alive for 37 years.

Last year we were in Carcassonne when my birthday rolled around and I celebrated with a massive portion of Cassoulet de Canard and a gin fizz.

This year was more low key. Fiancé took me to the garden centre to get a new plant for the plant pot he gifted me. I got a few new cat safe indoor plants – because our naughty cat loves to eat plants so they will be chewed at some stage whatever I do to try to prevent that! – and some bedding plants for the garden now the weather is improving.

Fiance doesn’t have much patience for the garden centre (or any shopping) so I appreciated the effort, and I’d not been plant shopping since the summer!

I spent most of the rest of the day repotting indoor plants, and reprinting the wedding invitations I’d somehow put the wrong month on and neither of us noticed! I remember I was tired when I made the invite and June and July, with half their letters in common, I often get confused! Thankfully we only need 6 invites and I could carefully peel off the wax seals, that I spent hours perfecting, to transfer them.

In the evening we went for a meal with my family which was fine. I was by this point tired and not feeling particularly social. I’ve also been feeling rising social anxiety levels recently, and I was feeling quite sensitive last night even before I made a faux pas.

Lesson learned: Don’t offer my opinion on Colleen Hoover without reading the room first

I did not help myself when on the car ride to the restaurant by putting my foot in it with my brother’s new girlfriend, and this being only the second time I’d ever met her. She apparently loves Colleen Hoover books… And I didn’t want to probe after I was already melting down after I called her favourite book “terrible” but got the feeling was buying the anti-Blake Lively propaganda (this came up because of the It Ends With Us movie drama). For the record I have no love for either side of that dispute, but it depresses me when people uncritically believe these vicious media tirades against famous women and assume the man on the other side of the argument could have done no wrong (I have a long post in my drafts about this I wrote months ago).

So now I’m going to have to spend a couple of days with an anxiety hangover raking over the stupid unthinking things I said, because I’m sure I made a bad impression.

I know I can be a bit snobby about books… And I easily forget that, in fact, most people don’t read much as me, don’t read as critically, don’t spend their spare time engaging with online reading communities, and can read schlocky dramatic “romantic” books about abusive relationships and not find them disturbing and problematic. They wouldn’t be so mind bogglingly popular if that wasn’t the case!

I’m going to have to make up for this next time we see them. I’ll maybe invite them for dinner at some point and not talk about books.

This wasn’t how I wanted to end up feeling on my birthday. I’m used to the inevitable reflections on past time and aging, and the disappointment my family must feel that another year shrinks the possibility that I’ll suddenly decide to provide a grandchild even further (this has been in the mix since I turned 30). That’s the normal stuff, I didn’t need reflections on my lack of conversational skill in there too.

I know what makes a good conversationalist.. I know I need to ask people questions and let them speak before I spew out my own opinion (especially if it’s something potentially controversial).. but I never remember this in the moment. I’m generally so quiet and don’t think of things to say that when I do I get excited and feel rushed to seize the opportunity before conversation moves on. I don’t think that approach ever goes well, and I need to work on it.

Maybe by 38 I’ll finally work out the balance.

I have to say all this did put out a damper on my birthday, but I hope now writing it out of my head will finally disperse the anxiety hangover, and I can stop dragging it around with me.

I was, no I am, actually feeling good about 37. Here is a list of things I’m happy about to remind myself I’m not a useless piece of shit with no hope, and my life has been getting steadily better year by year.

• Every year I learn more, understand myself better and “level up” at least one branch of my skill tree.
• This year I finally hacked the barrier that was stopping me from forming any exercise routine. I’m enjoying running (thanks to audiobooks!), and I’m feeling fitter than I have in a long time.
• I’ve also, for the first time, been sticking to a moisturising every morning and evening and I do actually believe it’s made a difference! My skin is less like sandpaper and I feel good about it.
• I’ve grown my hair long and learned some new hair styles, including learning French plait. I sleep with this most nights (keeps hair out my face and prevents tangles) so I have lovely wavy hair in the morning. It feels good to learn some new hair styling skills and mix up my appearance a bit.
• This year I’m seeing the results of my previous 2 years of hard work tidying the garden. We now have a variety of flowers instead of a tangle of various “Triffids”! The garden is teaching me not to worry about trying to make things perfect all at once, nature will figure it out.
• I surprised myself and everyone else by proposing to my fiancé!
• I’m extremely lucky to have such a wonderful fiancé who makes me feel safe and supports me in everything.
• We are very lucky now, after two years living together with shared expenses we in a financial place where we can afford nicer things. We got to redo the bathroom exactly as we wanted, and buy a new electric car that we love! Both of these upgrades have removed friction from life.
• We have the best cats and I love the little buggers so much. Even when I’m cleaning up vomit, being woken up at 4am or covered in scratches from Kitler climbing all over me.