Call off the search party

I’ll try not to spend too much time gazing at my navel fluff  … but I can’t help reflecting on my 50 years of life as that big birthday approaches.

The introspection lead me to revisit a blog post I wrote in 2014, a month after my husband skedaddled. I wrote: “Call off the search party for my mojo … I’ve got a tracking number on it.”

I quite love that line, though I’m a little surprised I was saying it so soon after my life imploded. Maybe it was bravado talking.

I mentioned being excited as I prepared to reinvent myself. I noted: “Something fundamental has changed inside me. Despite Husband’s departure, I’m actually in a better place.”

I think I secretly knew – when it all fell apart – that it was unfortunately, awfully unavoidable. Within a week of our separation I was already talking about who I wanted to regenerate into.

I wrote:

“My slate has been wiped clean. The world is my oyster and there’s no reason why I shouldn’t slurp it down (with a squeeze of lemon).

After all … (Forgive all the Doctor Who references, I have a bit of a crush.)

I’m ginger …

I’m smart …

I’m funny …

I’m pretty handy in the kitchen …

As my friend Leanne pointed out, I know how to throw a mean party …

And I’ve done some pretty cool things in my magazine and digital career.

Not to mention the fact I make totally awesome babies. Including one who could give Amy Pond a run for  her money in the doppleganger department …

In fact, I really owed it to the world to pop a few more out. But that ship has sailed, so I’ll just have to content myself with adoring the two I have now.

So, when I think about it, I’m starting from a really good place.

Even if there are bits about the future that really scare me …

For example, I know it’s way too early to be thinking about it, but I haven’t been on a date in 23 years …

rusty-doctor who

But I’ll work it out. And if I’m lucky they’ll really get me like this …

river-song-doctor-who

Wouldn’t that be nice?

Besides, after all …

And: “We all change. When you think about it, we’re all different people all through our lives. And that’s OK, that’s good, as long as you keep moving, as long as you remember all the people that you used to be.”

Fastforward three years … My fears are much different these days. They’re mainly about paying bills and making sure my kids are doing OK.

Many aspects of my old life have faded away. The people and places that populated my life pre-45 are mainly gone.

There are a few dear friends from my media years that remain. I rarely go to restaurants or bars. Instead it’s mostly  about the beach and DD and the kids and walking with local friends and doing the grocery shopping and driving eight minutes to work.

Each month another little knot in me straightens out. There are even moments when the constant brick of anxiousness leaves my chest.

I still battle horrible hormones each month that make my mind say the most terrible things to me.

But I know it’s talking rubbish and I’m getting better at ignoring it, though sometimes the jibes about my failings bring me to tears … usually in the shower or when I wake up to an empty house.

Monday mornings aside … My mojo is back, baby, and I can’t wait to see where it takes me.

Song of the day: Sir Mixalot “Baby got back”

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