Saturday, 24 March 2012

Do you remember?

Saturday, 24 March 2012 15:29
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Some years ago - 2009, in fact - I posted about hitting Magic 27. I was weirded out by outliving Jim, by being older than him.

And tomorrow, I make thirty. In a lot of ways, I assumed I'd never get this far. I looked after myself too badly physically, my mental state was too precarious. I simply couldn't see how I would possibly survive this long.

I did survive. In some small ways, I've even prospered. The human spirit has great capacity for suffering without breaking, the human body has great capacity for healing itself enough to survive.

I'll be thirty tomorrow. The evil voice in my head, quieted but not silenced, tells me that from now I can't wear the wacky vintage clothes i wear - only twentysomethings can pull that off! Well bollocks. I'll wear what the fuck I want to wear when I'm thirty, or ninety or points in between.

I can't tell you I'm cured of my many issues. I made homemade salsa for the first time today - and ate the whole bloody lot even though I'm off to a restaurant for birthday in less than two hours.

I haven't had a 'real' alcoholic drink in a year. I am dry, except for a glass of champagne at Christmas, and I out-and-out like it this way. The thirst may not be gone, not quite, but like Evil Clare, it is quieted. I know this could all change in a blink of an eye but I don't think it likely at the moment. Thanks to Craig Ferguson, more than any other single figure, I can see someone who was much worse than me and who not only stopped but stopped properly and became amazing. He is my inspiration in that sense, for my world was previously filled only with people who had lost the battle.

I quit sugar, you know. The great glutton who could plow through more chocolate than an entire kid's birthday party, has quit. It was and is difficult. So I learned to bake. I stand in my kitchen every week or so and make cakes and brownies. I made Rocky Road - infused with Amaretto spirits no less! - for my workpals for my birthday. I stand there and mix chocolate, sugar and alcohol together and don't eat it. Of course, if I was eating it, there'd be none for anyone. I mean, the salsa is indicative of that. I am still a glutton and I hope to stop that but the chocolate has been replaced by tomatoes; the bad drinks by green tea.

For a very long time, I was killing myself in a passive aggressive sort of way. Slowly, from the inside out. I did not quite believe I deserved to be here. Even more slowly than that, I understood that I do deserve to be here. To be honourable, kind, decent, open-hearted, open-minded, to love all the people is to deserve my place on this crumbling ball of rock in the cosmos. To write, to sing and be a refuge for humankind is to deserve to be here.

I deserve to be here. I am going to live and I am going to try to prosper. I am still lazy, still socially quite inept. I am still the kid who can watch nine episodes of Supernatural in a row instead of cleaning. I am still quick to temper. I am still impatient, imperious and a fucking know it all.

But I am alive, and I am trying every single day to become a better version of myself. Almost there.

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