I remember when I was about 12 doing the math. Not a very good mathematician, I was relieved that I was born with a 5 on the end of the year. Easier would have been a 0. But 5 was also good. So the math came easy when, by my reckoning 1965 + 50 = 2015. And well, back then it was so far away and well beyond even my parents age at the time. 50 was going to be old. Not just old, but oldest ever, spider webs, dust and graveyards old. Wrinkled, smelling of lavender covered in mould old. And here I am, 50! While I may be wrinkled, I'm not covered in mould (much to my relief) but maybe those freckles I had as a kid are revisiting me with a light dusting of small brown age spots. eh, I could get them lasered, maybe some time, or not.
1965 - a very good year
So some more math calcs and 1965 + 60 = 2025! 2025, wow, now that seems so far away. 60. I wonder if I will own a hoverboard by then. Certainly didn't get one in 2015. And so we play on.
That something was wrong? That maybe you shouldn't have done that? That maybe you would have been better off? That maybe next time you would do it differently? That maybe, just maybe this time? That if I would just get up off my ass and start? That I don't like being outside of my comfort zone? That I don't like change, I am a systematic, routine kinda girl? That I am stuck in a rut, but the rut feels safe? That I am sooo FUCKING O.C.D! Big Gazza is away at the moment. He has travelled 4 hours North of here to meet up with Kezwaldo and Sparky to build a fence for their new investment home. My gorgeous girl and her beautiful partner have bought their second investment property and they are putting up some fences and adding a few other additions to it before they rent it out. I'm so proud of Kezwaldo she is a strong independent woman who is kind, loved by all, is social and adventurous. Some say she is like me and if that is the case, I sure am ok with that. I see some similarities, but in other ways she is vastly different to me. One example is when she left home she moved into her unit by herself. She was keen to spread her wings and experience life. Yes, she went and got her little Scoutie to keep her company. But she had no problem living by herself. And see this is where the similarity ends. I hate being alone. Life stops for me and I go into a holding pattern. I guess its because I have never been alone. I left home and moved straight in with the X. I then had Kezwaldo and from there even when I left the X, I was never alone. I always had Kez with me. Then Big Gazza came along and 22 years later I have rarely been apart from him and, until only recently, never missed making it back to our bed to adopt 'the position' of me being big spoon and snuggling into the warmth of his back and drifting off to sleep to the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest under my arm. Now with him away and at other times when I am travelling for work, I find I am struggling to do things. Eat properly, do my training. I just hang out on the lounge in a kind of holding pattern, marking time til he returns or I can drive home. So last night I had planned to catch up with Roberto for a swim. I was pushing hard to get there. My brain was saying stop, just hunker down and wait for Gazza to come home. My brain was screaming in conflict. Roberto cancelled at the last minute and of course there was no way then that I could get my ass off the couch. I was in for the night and I found a movie to watch and waited for the phone to ring. Other contributing factors to yesterdays tail spin was a frustrating return of a period. Yeah for me. I am obviously NOT menopausal as the inconvenience of a period stomped on me. I was so frustrated I made an appointment with the doctor and got a script for a Merena. (yes, this is over sharing) but you know what, I didn't know these things existed until a friend over shared. So maybe if someone stumbles across my post and reads this, they just might find the relief like I did of not having to deal with periods when you are a sporty type. The benefit of having the Merena 'fitted' will be that I will be 56 when I need to have it removed again. Menopause will be well and truly behind me. I'm done with this crap. A modern woman, who wont be having any more kids, who lives an active and sporty life (when her husband is home) and who has no history of anything scary in her family tree, should have choices. I had a sense that I was going to have a period again so soon, because I was miserable, bloated, HUNGRY and couldn't focus on anything. And then wham, yep. There you go! Yesterday, after the doctors visit, and as it was a Thursday night, and because Gazza was away and I was miserable, I went down to the Sushi train and got a takeaway. I also bought an ice-cream AND a Turkish delight. So, while I perched on the lounge, too disconnected to push myself out the door to train, I sat and consumed possibly 1500 cals of a sugary, carb loaded, chocolate topped pile of empty calories and NO it didn't make me feel good. In fact when I went to bed feeling overfull, I found I had cranky legs, couldn't sleep, and I had a headache that still is here this morning as I write this. Boy, sometimes the lessons have to be repeated for them to sink in! I am sure it wont be the last repeat of this lesson. But each time I sink into the sugar loaded world of overindulgence I will try and remember this feeling and perhaps, just perhaps, it will be a little longer between binges, or perhaps not. I have also become cognisant of the fact that I am becoming systematic and routine like to the point of a mild O.C.D. I say mild, as I know that true O.C.D can be debilitating for some. And I know I can still function in my routine world. If Roberto hadn't cancelled I would have stepped out of my comfort tail spin and gone swimming. But there are some signs that I need to change things up a bit as I recognise responses of fear in myself. For example, the idea of catching a train by myself to Sydney for an outing where I would spend the day doing say a show or shopping, or meet a friend for lunch is beyond comprehension. The idea of jumping on a bus travelling 100kms and then boarding a whale watching tour and meeting new people and spending the day travelling alone, like I did years and years ago scares the begeebers out of me now. Travelling to Hawaii to meet up with friends to watch Kona Ironman is beyond doing, masked in a 'we cant afford it' excuse. Yet, sitting in bed drinking a morning coffee and scrolling through Faceboook, is comforting. Showering, ironing my work clothes, packing the dishwasher, straightening the house, driving to work, making my second coffee for the day are routines that come naturally and provide some sense of stillness in my world. Its predictable and not scary. Its a systematic routine that I have tumbled into and this is the stuff that I have always hated in principle. Are you a slave to the machine Sammi? Have you become a faceless number in a mindless world? Have you forgotten why you are here? Have you stopped challenging yourself? Have you succumbed to the darkness, the fear, the sinking swamp of sadness? Have you become numb? Have you grown old before your time?
Have you lost your war cry?
Where has she gone,
the Adventurer that you once were?
She was brave and resilient and
she laughed out loud with her head thrown back.
She was crazy, impetuous and she loved to dance.
She would take risks and see positiveness in everything.