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| SMJartist aged 63 |
Being 63 years old is NOT easy in this day and age. What it must have been like in the old days gods alone knows, its difficult enough now in 2015
I have had enough of the expectations of my age , by other generations, defining what, when how and who I am. It is quite true that from here, 63 it is generally speaking ‘all downhill’, the next stop is the pearly gates of whichever heaven or hell (the devil would have black pearls of course) you believe in.
Here I am or rather, there I was! sat thinking ‘ah well’ go sign on a local council list, get the one bed flat in a building full of the damned things, get used to footsteps over my head or music sailing up from beneath my feet, no pets allowed, sit and watch TV all day and feel frustrated for the next thirty years.
Then I rebelled. So what else is new, I’ve been a rebel all my life. Girls don’t do that! was a saying that would have me climbing rocks, racing boys, handstands and cartwheels…’you can’t do that you’re a girl’ had me stealing motorbikes and riding them all over St Helens. ‘You’re too wild’ would have me dance till dawn and fight with males who thought a girl having a drink was a signal for an easy rape.
Oh I did the dance indeed. Then of course it was burn your bra time and from then on, a constant battle to just be the person I am. The ,albeit unwilling, victim of a control freak and not being particularly worldly wise had me make every mistake under the sun when my then husband waltzed off into the sunset with his new and younger female. I went through the rejection phase, the inappropriate replacement males who were just younger versions of him. I did that dance really well, for 7 years I was in a no man’s land of daft choices, unwise and silly moments I wish away every time my memories surface because I see the exes…not that many actually 3 of them, but not for weeks, years of staying in the same cycle…and then I chose to be Celibate…oh wow that was a great move.
Celibacy gave me space, time and processing moments and friends, lots of real and genuine friends. Announcing my celibacy to my close friends had at first the opposite effect I had hope for. Seeing full grown men and women rolling round on the floor laughing is not ‘quite’ what I expected The presentation of a large black plastic ‘replacement’ for my birthday by well-meaning friends was to say the least the very last birthday gift I expected. My son catching a nap on my bed and discovering it under the pillow is another memory I could do without too (though I must admit I’m grinning at that one).
All in all, by the time my friends discovered that I truly meant to become celibate, it opened a new world up. Men who took me for a meal, knew that’s all that was involved. Women friends no longer tried fixing me up with a date, OH THE RELIEF, it was possibly one of the best few years of my life. I had a ball.
My favourite memory is having a bottle of lager with The Lord of The Night, a man whose name was lost in the years he had adopted to dress and act like his namesake, he was a great joker, a really nice guy and gave me a fantastic evening’s entertainment. Everyone and I do mean everyone just called him Lord it was quite an evening. He named me Lady Silver Swan and all night long I was My Lady (cool actually very addictive)
Then huge changes in my world, the sad loss of my brother, the many adventures, far too many to record here in my swansong to the old life. (Those memories and more are in my journal and my genealogy book) But the changes came and I lived a very different life, then out of the blue came Pete. He’s a great guy, totally loves me for being me, doesn’t give a damn that we are years apart in age and yes, he is the ‘toy boy’ though at 38 he objects to the boy bit. He’s been in my life for ten years this year. I don’t want to live with him, he understands perfectly my need to have space and solitude. I really am happy in my own company. Far more than most, edging into the ‘recluse’ arena. We are together permanently, but live in separate domains and that suits us both fine. If I want to get up at 4am and work or paint it isn’t going to upset anyone, if he wants to write music at 2am and play his guitar he can…because we haven’t anyone around to upset Perfect trust also comes into that equation. I trust him implicitly, he is as open as any book could be and for that I am truly grateful.
Not a day goes by that we chat, laugh, joke, moan…whatever it takes, we support each other through difficult moments and we enjoy each other’s company physically when we can. In-between…its perfect. Closeness without claustrophobia, togetherness without strings and halters, chains and weight. Perfick as it could be said.
So, where was I, oh yes:- being this age had expectations to it from all sorts of people in my world. My family perhaps had the thought ‘once she retires she will settle down’, friends didn’t expect that bit, but perhaps they thought I would slow down.
Erm………no
I got antsy and edgy and fed up and frustrated. Luckily for me, a friend stepped in when my ex landlord was playing silly beggars. With no new home in mind and a situation I was very unhappy with developing in the house I had rented my friend said…if you can get here in 24 hours, you can look after my summer house.
Oh like a rocket…..so there. SO currently I am a guest in a beautifully modernised Barn. In the middle of nowhere, with no neighbours, two dogs, 50 acres of wild wood and ancient trees for companions and deer, foxes and a visiting puma for company.
But it isn’t mine. My friend insisted I could live out my years here, it was a generous and kind gesture. One in other circumstances I would be happy to accept, but it isn’t for me. I can’t do here, what I would do to my own land and I can’t relax here as if it were home. The place is kept pristine because it isn’t mine. I found myself acting as if I could expect visitors at any time and that’s not me either. I love to slumph about in my Onsie with my dogs lay across my lap or snuggled in the curve of my arm and watch a good film….usually at 10am in the morning. So not possible when you are a guest. Then again, this place will be sold eventually and when it is, that is when I truly will be homeless in the full sense of the word. Sofa surfing, albeit in luxury here, is not my 'place to rest my head' forever.
That feeling set off the old ‘I am feeling tied down’ and the rest of the negative emotions crawled in to find space in my brain and I have ended up right here, right now, writing it all out and realising that The Last Great Adventure is finally upon me.
Logistically, at my age, new adventures are few and far between. It is true I could settle in a little flat somewhere, it would kill me by inches. I could also go live with the BF and I would kill him by inches. Or else I could stay here and slowly become the fixture and fitting in the barn who is slightly eccentric and has a load of cats, dogs and visiting fauna. None of which is the real me.
The REAL me is an adventurer, a rebel and being 63 isn’t in the calculations beyond the health side of things. I still love the same food, music, dress, art and conversations I loved when I was 16/20/30/40/50. I’ve expanded on those likes and dislikes, I’ve incorporated new ideas and concepts and broadened my outlook, but the core themes remain. Heavy metal music will still see me hit the dance floor with a strut and a bit of head banging. Yes you may laugh…but it’s true and I could probably do a better job than most 20 somethings but it’s not a competition. My point is, the essential me………….never got to BE.
Knowing the inevitable years will accumulate, the health issues will increase, the mobility decrease, the sense of adventure slowly die has put me on my toes, made me really think. The processing was hard. I have so many real issues to contend with, let go of. So I did it. I am not a coward, if I get scared the first thing I do is go and do whatever it is that’s scaring me. I loathe being trapped by emotions or situations, I will always fight back and usually hard and fast. But I got into a welter of emotions for a while and realised I have been sulking for nearly three years now. Issues I cannot alter or resolve had become totally and completely overwhelming and I had thrown it all in the spare room in my brain and slammed the door shut. Well that had me opening the door and sorting out all the crud in my head. Some of it dates back literally years to when I was a teenager. Old resentments and old issues that needed clearing out and destroying. It has not been a pleasant experience. But it’s almost done.
Every cleansing thought, every action has freed me to think a little more clearly about being me, and today the 21st September 2015 (strangely enough the day my husband left me 23 years ago) is the day I will be reborn into being true to myself.
I WANT an adventure. The Last Great Adventure and I am going to do it. I am saving up for a Camper Van, it has to be big enough to deal with me and my dogs, so a little Volks Wagon won’t do, but I am off into savings mode and have…£50 to start me off.
When I get the Camper Van……..I am going to travel the whole of the United Kingdom, every place I visit I am going to interview people, meet people and do all I can to record various things and experiences. I am going to research my Genealogy and I am going to do it….my way. I have books in my head, great rafts of ideas, art I want to create, pictures I want to take, people I want to meet and gain their experiences and thoughts and interview them, record it, and write it. People are my nemesis and my release from captivity. As long as I can drive away, as long as I can find my own space somewhere, with no people, even if it is a lay bye on the edge of a village. I am okay with meetings and interviews.
I my friends am going to
Walk my Talk.
Tally Ho !
