As it’s Ramadan and all that. And, as I’m not Muslim but totally get the spirituality of the whole shebang, I thought I’d ‘fast’ in a way where I’m purging myself of the Facebook. The unnecessary rubbish peddled daily, no hourly, lets me honest – by the second, on this great platform we now lump within the ‘socialising’ label,
Now, you know my feelings about this particular site, but I feel compelled to ‘share’ my latest discovery with you all. It’s no startling revelation and it certainly has not taught me anything new, but what it has done is provide me with a ‘joie de vivre’ and new focus for my day to day life.
Actually, this is mostly a big fat lie…the only bit of truth is that I’ve logged off (In fact I think I might have deactivated my Facebook).
So, I’m going to set my stall out: ‘The Fear’ is taking a hold. Part of the nuclear fall out of this is that Facebook has had to be binned off. The following points will explain why.
1. Birthday looming
2. The mirror tells me that I’m no spring chicken
3. I wanted to go on a fabulous holiday and pretend it’s ALL not happening but I seem to keep buying bricks and skips with my money
Only three. However, three biggies.
The first point fills me with terror. I used to love my birthday as a child but with age came wisdom. I realised it wasn’t the Holy Grail of the year and that I’m not the ‘The Birthday Princess’ like I was when I was 7. You see I was spoilt. My lovely mum used to spoil me with surprises galore!!
– The airplane flyby which dropped a card for me fresh from the sky, when I was 6.
– The appearance of a treehouse in the corner of my garden on the afternoon of my birthday. We (kids spilling off school bus) legged it into my garden and scrambled up the ladder. Age 10.
– The time we all went to the local airfield and flew over all the places in Lincolnshire and Yorkshire we’d ever lived and stopped for dinner. Age 12
You see, it was never about the gifts for me but more about the fun and X factor of the day. My mum, was (and still is) the best person in the world to make you feel great on your special day. The flip side is that I peaked too soon. Nothing now can ever live up to being whisked away to watch the Northern ballet after school, with a smoked salmon and prawn car-picnic, on an evening (it was A Midsummer Night’s Dream and I met them all afterwards). Age 9?
Also, I have this embedded notion that people pretend to be nice to me because it’s my birthday. Quite frankly, I’d like people to be kind all year long! I find it all rather embarrassing and I’m not worthy of any attention ‘who does she think she is?’ And my paranoia makes me sense laughter and harsh words behind my back. Being the birthday girl just spotlights it. After all, my mum is allowed to spoil and indulge her little girl. I don’t ever expect to be treated that way by anyone else. It’s easier to just pretend it’s all not happening…
Number two. Now, it could be the new mirrors and the light being cast into my bedroom from a different angle (somehow I doubt it) but I’m looking rather old and ropey when I cast an eye. Gone is my youthful glow and instead I feel surrounded by a beige hue of old lady and saggy bloated limbs. To be quite honest I feel utterly rubbish and tearful about the whole thing. This was all magnified by the fact that Amanda Holden seems to have metamorphosed into a sleek, chic, ageless glamourpuss. This revelation has left me both mesmerised by her and turning off the tellybobs in equal measures. Every time she graces the BGT screen, I covert her whole look and spend my whole time working out how to obtain it rather watching the ‘acts’ (managed to watch the final though and got to say it but standards are definitely slipping – only two worthy winners, the rest you’d see at the holiday park as back up). To tell you the truth, my Amanda mini obsession/envy has resulted in me missing most of BGT this year and becoming more and more disgruntled that I’m going in the wrong direction…
Point three: well, what can I say? It’s very boring spending money on things which look neither pretty nor feel hot and sunny. My goodness, how I long for radiant 40 degree heat and the rich blue shimmer of the Aegean Sea. It’s what I crave, day in, day out for the other 350 days of the year (this is NO LIE and what gets me through the dark days). It’s no secret that me and Him want to move there permanently one day. To wake up every morning and take in the bluest waters and volcanic rocks which majestically stand above the sea. How many times have we walked along the shore or laid on a beach watching a golden sunset like no other in the world? Or how many times have we absorbed the beauty of the stars filtering through the curtain of night? All with the distinct feeling Pegasus is awaiting the other side of the craggy peaks. Yes poetic, but we’ve seen stuff too amazing to label. So, sorry, well not really sorry, as much as my house is looking good, my heart, mind and tired restless limbs ache for the feel of a rocky Greek beach beneath my feet. I long to wake up to the brilliant Bougainvillea framing my open shutters. I dream about the transparent waters cocooning my tired, old and worn body; reinvigorating me for another long year. As lovely as my home is looking, it’s not Greece. Ideally, we’d be island hopping for three weeks. Best Buy a Lotto ticket…
Therefore, to calm my mind and self, I have gone into ‘Survival Mode’. This has involved: leaving Facebook – no one can wish me happy birthday, won’t see pictures of people looking glam and young, won’t see hollibob pics. Praying and rubbing the Buddha constantly, making sure my elephants are aligned, putting a new eye to ward off evil at the front door. And finally as it has all infiltrated my dreams; making me feel rubbish, I am now meditating on an hourly basis.
However, this all comes with a disclaimer. I do realise (don’t ever think I don’t) how super lucky I am. I also realise that these are first world problems. I also understand that my past has spoilt me for my future. My problem is that when June hits I start to fall into a dark pit of despair. I secretly want to be excited and happy but I’m scared that it’ll not meet expectations. Falling into an abyss of despair because, for example: Him has forgotten my birthday (he did one year. Age 23) is not an option. So, ‘The Fear’ has struck.
So I can’t lie. I’m not fasting, I’m hiding. Like I say honesty is the best policy.
A final note. This blog was written before the awful events in London last night. I am running out of reassuring words for my children (and many more by tomorrow morning) as we increasingly find ourselves heartbroken and angry at the evil and cruelty in the world. Now more than ever we need to remember each other. We need to think about making each other smile. A few weeks ago I suggested we just ‘Be Kind’ (it seems someone had nicked my coinage and hashtagged it and Sir Richard Branson was spouting it on Twitter and Him thought I was trending – hmmm). Everyone we know is fighting a battle of some kind. Never assume that lives are perfect – no such thing. Life is too short to not live it by smiling. So I’m reiterating over and over my simple mantra ‘Be Kind’ as it helps even those living in the darkest of shadows sense light.