What will it bring?

Last night, I celebrated my last day of being 57 with DD at a place called 24 York.

The idea came from my ex-neighbour, after I complained about having to spend my 58th birthday at a body corporate meeting.

Excellent suggestion!

We used a voucher my sister gave us for Christmas. I have been super keen to go to 24 York ever since it opened. The menu is entertaining in its brevity:

No entrees. One main: steak and frites. One dessert: New York cheesecake!

My verdict: I was a bit worried about the kitchen only serving the steak one way – medium – but it was deliciously tender. We ordered ours with peppercorn sauce and a side of umami butter. Nom, nom.

And our shared cheesecake came with a candle!

Now it’s my 58th birthday.

My gifts so far include a goodie bag from my mum filled with my favourite things, including pink wine and a flannel flower reed diffuser; the eldest adopted a baby coral for me in French Polynesia (nawwwww); while my office gifted me broken air-conditioning, meaning I’ve been told to work from home all week. Hoorah!

As for how it feels to be 58, I find myself unsettled … and not just because my door buzzer will be ringing at 7am for a fire inspection.

To be honest, I’ve been unsettled for a long time. I still haven’t recovered from becoming an empty nester just before my last birthday.

I wake up every morning feeling a little sad and wishing my kids were still under my roof … although admittedly perhaps tidier versions of their previous selves …

The youngest sent me a message last week asking what I wanted for my birthday and I replied with one word: “You”.

I do love the order and peace in the apartment, but I hate it in equal measure. I only have myself and the two dogs to look after and it feels a bit empty, like I’m just counting down the hours each night until bedtime.

I still haven’t found my new purpose, the thing that will motivate me now that my active mothering years are over.

If I was younger and eligible for long-service leave, I’d love to take a few months off and have a mental and physical health reset. A chance to sort out all those check-ups that I’ve let slide, to go to the gym regularly and walk on the beach every day …

Instead I am gripped by inertia. It feels too hard to start anything. I can’t seem to find the energy to get the skin check and join the gym.

I normally bury myself in projects, but they’re not filling the void.

Drinks Digest isn’t thrilling me like it once did and the invitations to fun events have been sparse.

Buying a new place isn’t on the cards right now, so the escapism of domain.com.au has lost its buzz.

All my annual leave has been used up for 2026, which means searching for holidays has lost its excitement too.

Sorry to mention you again Megz, but your Facebook comment has stayed with me: “I don’t think I could retire. I need too much to keep my brain busy & I have no interest in travel, as it involves leaving the home we have set up.”

It occurred to me over the weekend that what Megz has found is contentment. She loves her life she’s built that revolves around her home.

I have a busy brain too, but my life isn’t keeping it suitably occupied. I am not content. Maybe I never have been and the active mothering years just hid that.

Travel has been one of the ways I scratch the itch, alongside more dramatic moves such as living overseas twice and frequently selling my homes.

Moving out of homes that I’ve loving set up is almost compulsive. I’ve been buying and selling them since my mid-20s. I get to a certain point where I feel this overwhelming compulsion to get out, go somewhere new and start over.

And I can’t begin to explain the relief I felt when I flew to Singapore to work there for two years, leaving all my possessions and responsibilities behind.

I wish I understood the relentless, driving motivation behind it all. I wonder if it will eventually ease with age?

Who knows?

You never think you’ll end up being 58, having people offer you seats on the bus and dreaming about retirement, but still having no idea where contentment lies.

But I did take some positive action over the weekend. I’ve written a to-do list and ticked off the first item: make a medical appointment. My dad survived a widow-maker heart attack, my aunty died from one, it’s time to get my heart checked and see where I’m up to with breast screening, pap smearing and all that jazz.

I also bit the bullet and pulled money out of my do-not-touch bank account to pay a chunk off my credit card bill. I am NOT allowed to shop my feelings again until I am debt free.

OK, that’s enough navel gazing. It’s time to walk the dogs and get myself presentable before the fire inspector rings the buzzer.

Happy birthday to me!

Song of the day: Powderfinger “My happiness”