And of course isn’t it just utterly human that we never quite know how great we have it until afterwards? Sometimes when I sit here with my sons and think how little freedom I have and consider the drudgery of my life (wiping, washing, cooking, folding, sweeping, picking up, cooking, wiping, always wiping) I long for the days when I was single and child free. I romanticise how easy life was and how god damned silly I could be (though never was - fool).
And then I remember the pit of loneliness I felt sometimes when everyone was busy with their boyfriends and I was just kind of knocking about, a bit aimless. I remember feeling like I couldn’t find my tribe and the sadness that brought.
I guess it’s never perfect, whichever way you have it. What I do know (and I really don’t know a lot that’s for sure) is that there’s a point in your life where you start to lose friends through illness, usually if you’re lucky this starts in your mid forties, and then you realise that absolutely nothing matters at all apart from health. Nothing. It’s reductive, to realise that our animal corporeal experience is the foundation of everything. And obvious too, come to think of it. Just that we’re all so preoccupied with everything else to realise.
Anyway, happy happy birthday to you! I love your writing. You’re brilliant.
How about 33 being the year of the fuck it good girl? Is she a menacingly perfect mess? Maybe, but she's also probably brilliantly fun and also still fulfills her urge to leave the footy match early.
Well a happy belated birthday to you!
And of course isn’t it just utterly human that we never quite know how great we have it until afterwards? Sometimes when I sit here with my sons and think how little freedom I have and consider the drudgery of my life (wiping, washing, cooking, folding, sweeping, picking up, cooking, wiping, always wiping) I long for the days when I was single and child free. I romanticise how easy life was and how god damned silly I could be (though never was - fool).
And then I remember the pit of loneliness I felt sometimes when everyone was busy with their boyfriends and I was just kind of knocking about, a bit aimless. I remember feeling like I couldn’t find my tribe and the sadness that brought.
I guess it’s never perfect, whichever way you have it. What I do know (and I really don’t know a lot that’s for sure) is that there’s a point in your life where you start to lose friends through illness, usually if you’re lucky this starts in your mid forties, and then you realise that absolutely nothing matters at all apart from health. Nothing. It’s reductive, to realise that our animal corporeal experience is the foundation of everything. And obvious too, come to think of it. Just that we’re all so preoccupied with everything else to realise.
Anyway, happy happy birthday to you! I love your writing. You’re brilliant.
How about 33 being the year of the fuck it good girl? Is she a menacingly perfect mess? Maybe, but she's also probably brilliantly fun and also still fulfills her urge to leave the footy match early.
Oof, felt so many emotions I think I need a lie down. Really love this one ✨