Existential Angst/Mid-life Crisis

Yes, it's true. I am having a mid-life crisis. I have come to hard realisation of two important things:

1. Life is Meaningless. We are born, we are taxed and then we die. Therefore, the only meaning in Life is that which we create.

and

2. While I every major thing I have every wanted has been denied to me, I have actually had a pretty awesome time considering.

These two truths along with some other things, have meant that since August I've been wrestling with both the Big and the Little Pictures.

The flat where I thought I'd die in, over the last 8 weeks became my prison. I hate being here, I can't abide being in Norwich anymore. I've lived here since 1996. In fact, I'm moving out pretty much 18 years to the day. I am having a Don McLean moment.

This midlife crises leaves no relationship, no belief or activity unquestioned. This process hasn't even come close to finishing yet. I'd go so far as to say, I've only just begun.

Tomorrow, I move. I am being packed up and I am running away to the country. I've been offered sanctuary by the most lovely Z. It's only for as long as it takes her to sort through her own stuff and then I'll have to move again. Where to after, I can't say. I can't say, because I don't know. I honestly don't know.

To deal with the first issue. What is the meaning I want to create in my Life? 

I'm going to do an Introduction to Counselling course in the New Year and after that, I will have more options. Or not.

I've started a course at the Norwich Buddhist Centre. I haven't been a pagan magical practitioner for a good few years now. Not because I don't believe magic doesn't work, but because I believe it does. I no longer believe I have any answers to Life's dilemmas/questions. I would rather take each step as it comes and trust the outcome is as it needs to be. 

Which kind of leads on to #2. The times I didn't get what I so very dearly wanted and craved were hard. Really hard. But I learnt some very valuable lessons. And pretty much, without exception, although I wanted a different outcome, in hindsight it was such a good thing. Relationships that I wanted to succeed and failed spectacularly, even though I tried so hard - they would have destroyed my soul. Work situations that would have crushed me in the long term, despite the excellent potential for enormous salaries and career progress.

The little I've learnt about Buddhism matches up to my experiences so far. I will never be Christian again and I am no longer a magical practitioner, but my belief in spirituality remains unshaken. I've had too many weird things happen to me, to believe otherwise. 

But I digress; tomorrow I move.

Tomorrow, I pack up and leave the flat where I've lived on and off over 16 years. It was supposed to be our haven and it hasn't been. It's not big enough for me to live in the way I need to. 

I've been laughing with friends today about the fact that in my 20s I did a BA in Development Studies, in my 30s I did a BA in Creative Writing, now in my 40s I'm looking for more learning. I think I will do a counselling course, though what flavour, I don't know yet. Or indeed, I might do something completely different. Who knows? If someone up there does, they haven't made me privy to that info. 

In a couple of weeks, Boy is coming home for the weekend. He's going to hold my hand as I have my first tattoo done to mark the occasion. I'm really looking forward to it.

Ultimately, I could have continued to pretend that everything was alright. I'm sure I could have had a stab at ignoring how I feel. Instead, I've decided to embrace this. Whatever "this" turns out to be. Wherever "this" takes me, at least I know I will have stood up and met the challenge head on.  

...And Counting

This is going to be a blog post in bullets and in no particular order. I don't think I have it in me to construct a coherent sentence, but I'm desperate to write something.

• This is the last weekend in this house and I've hardly been here. It's very weird. Boy disappeared off to London and in a way, it feels like he's already left home.
• I spent 2 hours looking at curtains for the flat. I came out of the shop with 2 plastic boxes and 2 lunch containers.
• The exercise has worked! On Friday evening, Dave took me for a bike ride. It was the route that previously took me hours...I did it in 40 minutes and when we stopped, it was to look around. I think I surprised him somewhat.
• My butt still hurts from the bike ride. 
• I am really rubbish at DIY. Tomorrow, it will be the third time I try and get the kitchen right.
• I have way too much shit in my house. Why do I have so many knick knacks? And stones. What is it about stones?
• The flat is beginning to feel like home again. Even if it is filled with DIY detritus and has nothing of mine in it yet.
• My neighbours are pleased to see me move back. It's really touching how they have all come up to me in the last few weeks to have a chat, to welcome me back.
• When I first rocked back to the flat, I was shocked and appalled how badly maintained the outside was and spent half a day cleaning and clearing up the communal area. A couple of weeks later the family downstairs cleared out the patch of ground behind them.
• The Cat knows something is up and is stressing. I'm concerned how she'll cope with the upheaval. Heck. I'm concerned with how I'm going to cope with the upheaval.
• I'm putting the stuff I don't want outside the house, so people can help themselves. I don't have the time to spend cataloguing and flogging the stuff on-line. Also, if someone needs it and can use it, why not?
• Acrylic nails are brilliant. I'm on my third set and they are lasting so well and it's lovely having good nails, even if they are covered in paint.
• In the next 5 days, we will have finished the renovations on the flat and moved. 
• If the previous statement doesn't show the power of positive thinking, I don't know what will.
• Realistically, I'm going to move and then have about a month's worth of niggling tasks to finish off. 
• I worry that the month's worth of tasks will remain unfinished for years.
• I am desperate to get back to writing and working. It feels like my Life and Plans for World Domination have been on hold for the last 3 months. Not to mention the money that has been leaking from my bank account.
• My hayfever is appalling at the moment. My eyes itch and stream. Ugh.
• I beat sinusitis last week. I'm so chuffed. Though I definitely can't recommend anyone else snort Tea Tree Oil. I think I broke every aromatherapy rule with that one. But I'm still here and I'm not coughing up the greenies anymore.
• The most difficult part of moving will be my study. My Goddess do I have a lot of crap in here and no, I mustn't lose anything. And that's not even talking about half of the books!
• I have this week off. Next week, it'll be all Go Go Go! at work and then I will spend money I don't have to colour and cut my hair, get some eyebrows and have a facial.
• All this exercise malarky has given me ideas above my station. I'm now thinking of taking up running and martial arts.
• I am genuinely shocked Dave still wants to be with me after the last 3 months. I've leaned on him heavily and I know I've driven him nuts and he's got his own stuff to deal with. I think he's nuts. A sane man would have been running for the hills right about now. Instead, he spends his time contemplating my kitchen and how we are going to tile it.
• I'm not going to worry about healthy eating this week. If I remember to eat at all, it's going to be a miracle.
• I am now just a little bit excited about moving and the next part of my Life. 

...Press 5 for Emotional Meltdown

It seems there's a knack for maintaining your sanity. Follow this simple tip and you'll never reach for the vodka bottle again.

Never, ever try to get hold of any large institution/business/government organisation by telephone.

It's so simple.

I wished I'd have realised this years ago.

As you may remember, I'm in the midst of remodelling my flat, ready to move in at the end of June. Unfortunately, my administrative system has struck again. The blasted Paperwork Elves fed my receipts/paperwork to the dragon and I can't find out when new flooring is to be delivered. I spent the last hour and a half trying to get hold of the Norwich store to find out the details. Can I get through? Good grief no. Not only that, I have an automated process to go through every time before being told, they can't take my call right now.

For the sake of my own peace of mind, I removed the telephone from my ear and went and did a work out. I'm going to have a shower, get dressed and drive over there to get the information in person. It'll be more pleasant for everyone concerned.

And yes, you did read that right. I did a work out. I have been working out at least once a week. I've been taking it very slowly...I'm very unfit and my knees and back being what they are...the idea is not to make it worse. There is improvement, but it's very small yet. I'm now doing more of the workout and working harder at it. This pleases me but in the grand scheme of things - I have a long way to go. 

We spent the weekend working on the flat. Which was great fun. Last week was hard going. I had a lot of writing to do and then the office job and frankly, my brain was mush. I don't know what was going on, but jeez Louise, I found it nigh on impossible to get anywhere with anything. If I could have, I'd have gone back to bed for the whole week.

Helping demolish my kitchen was a fantastic antidote. As was removing 4 years of limescale from my toilet. Kids, it's important. Do as the chemist says, not as he does. 

There's one more unit to be taken to bits, but that requires plumbing tools. The nasty vinyl is up, the worktops are out, the tiles (and most of the plaster) are off. Once I know when the flooring will be done, then we can finally get somewhere with it.

Of course, this is the fun bit.

Every job seems to have 6 jobs behind it and one thing can only be done, once something else has been done.

The electrician is booked in to start moving sockets and lights around.

I'm not stressed. Really I'm not. Just because when I lie down to sleep at night I've got 3,000 things going on in my head...it's to be expected.

I keep telling myself how much it will be worth it and that in 3 months time, we'll be settled in and comfy.

I keep pinching myself as to how lucky I am to have an awesome man who gives up a perfect weekend to bike around Norfolk to demolish my kitchen and haul dead appliances to the tip.

Adventures with Mobile Phones

To say I had an 'interesting' day yesterday, is a bit like saying it was a bit damp during the biblical flood. It certainly had entertainment value. I certainly wasn't bored.

Now, I don't know if I've ever said: I don't work on Fridays. No, Fridays are not the Pagan equivalent of the Sabbath. They just pay me to do four days' work. Which is fine by me. It means on Friday morning, I don't have my alarm set, I can wander around in my pink fluffy dressing gown, get my braces adjusted, go see my dishy osteopath, have coffee and cakes with my friends. Working for a living is all very well, but working 5 days a week, doesn't half interfere with one's Life. I'm happy with this arrangement.

However, this week things have been a bit frantic at work, we've had staff holidays and illness to contend with. And while my manager has the energy of 3 toddlers with ADHD, even she's been hard pressed at times. Unfortunately, even she's not been able to squeeze more than 24 hours into a day. And trust me, it's not from the lack of her trying. So, I said I'd go in for half a day.

You know how they say, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions? Yeah, exactly. Work was fine. I got in and got everything that I wanted done, done. I kicked my To Do List's butt. Oh yes, for I take no prisoners people. The trouble started when I was supposed to leave work. I had to go do a flat inspection. I'd warned my tenant I was working, plus he's fully aware of my time-keeping - 'ish'. It's very 'ish'. Anyway, I wanted to have a comfort break before I headed off.

Ah, let me back-track slightly. When I work, I have my phone in my left back pocket, my iPod Touch in my right back pocket. I 'listen' to music as I work. I say 'listen' because the music is so familiar to me, it's background noise less distracting than the conversation round our open-plan office.

So, I take out my iPod, put it in my bag, ready to go off, go to the downstairs loo.

I unbuckle my trousers, bend slightly and then there is a loud 'plop' from behind.

Do you ever wish Life came with a [pause] and [rewind] button? At that moment, I would have given my firstborn for one.

I fished my phone out, dried the outside with paper towels and put my head in my hands (after washing them thoroughly). Now Ladies and Gentlemen, let me reassure you, the loos at work are cleaned to the highest of standards. I was confident when my hand went into the loo water, I wasn't going to end up with dysentery, my hand was still going to be attached to my arm. If it had been a public lav, darlings I would have just flushed that loo and walked away! I was very fond of my mobile phone. It was a very basic, but shiny silver phone that did everything I wanted it to. It sent texts, made calls and took the occasional picture. I was especially pleased with the Bluetooth facility that allowed it to 'talk' to my car, enabling me to make hands-free calls whilst I drive along.

It appeared to still work after the dunking, and then as I drove to see my tenant, it stopped working. When I did get home, I was advised to take it apart and dry it out. In the meantime, I went on-line to O2 to see what could be done. Now they do a fast-track contract renewal on-line. Which I tried to do. But for me to use this on-line facility, I'd have to put in a code which they text to my phone. Which wasn't working. I spoke to a 'virtual' advisor and then to a 'real' advisor, who made the suggestion that I see how the phone was in the morning, but I could go into a mobile phone shop and fast-track an upgrade if necessary. I kept my fingers crossed.

Now people IRL know that I have several quirks (I know, me quirks? Who'd have thought it), one of which is: I require things to work. If I get in my car I want to know 100% that when I turn my key, the damn thing will start first time. Not for me dodgy mechanics requiring WD40, duct tape and a hammer. Those kind of things really drive me nuts. Put it down to my complete lack of adventure. Personally, if I'm 3 feet from my mobile phone I feel uncomfortable, if it's 10 feet, I have to pick it up and carry it around. I need my mobile phone to take the inevitable call from Boy 'can you pick me up from?' and 'Mum, I've hurt my leg' or 'Can you pick your son up, he's not very well today'. So this morning, while I was relieved my phone appeared no worse for wear, I was determined to replace it.

So that's what I did. Of course, Boy had to come with me. I insisted. If you want to talk techie, you take an expert to translate. Teenagers are techie machines. Me...not so much. I don't need to know the ins and outs of tech shit. Life is short and I'm not interested. It was fine. He talked tech with the phone salesman and steered me away from the shiny HTC phone. I am now the proud owner of a Nokia C3. Which is perfect. It pretends it's something special because it's shiny and has a touch-screen facility, but is actual for older people because it has big buttons and is idiot proof.

Of course, upgrading my phone meant I had to look at my tariff. Did I want 200 minutes and 500 free texts or did I want to go all out for 300 minutes and unlimited texts. I mean for heaven's sake it's not like anyone calls me on a regular basis. However, I'm an optimist. And I can text for England. So, I took the slightly more expensive option.

I spent 2 hours this afternoon, when I got home, getting my phone settings to my liking. These things are never fucking simple, are they? Ringtones, message tones, predictive texting, home screen layout, birthday information etc. Yes, it really did take me 2 hours to get it done so I was happy with it. All that effort and the trauma of having to go into the city centre on a Saturday morning, sent me to my bed for an afternoon nap. My proudest moment today was when I introduced my new phone to my car. Yes, it took me all of 15 minutes of continuous swearing, when the BMW salesman set it up in 2 (without swearing), but hell, I did it. I can now drive and make hands-free calls.

All I need now is someone to ring me.

Tuesday, the new Monday

Ladies and Gentlemen, let it not be said, I lead a boring life. Indeed, I would go as far as saying I live in 'interesting times'. Not the 'interesting times' of being stalked by Robert Downey Jr; pestered by Prince Charming to give up my life in Norwich and go and lie with him on the beach of his private island in the Tropics, to be waited on hand and foot; nor discovering the winning lottery ticket worth an obscene amount of money 'interesting'.

Oh no.

Yesterday, I enjoyed my first cup of coffee; nay, I savoured it. I rolled it around my tongue, appreciated every whiff of coffee aroma. Thus fortified I headed off to work. There was the usual traffic, I crept out of a junction and then...

*BANG*

I hit another car.

In the Grand Scheme of Things, I have much to be thankful for: no one was hurt, no one died; both myself and the other driver are properly insured; I have an insurance company who has proven itself worthy of the hefty premiums; I have employers who are understanding; I have friends who on hearing my voice and tale of woe, put the kettle on.

Within an hour, my poor battered Pride and Joy was put on the back of a lorry and carted off to the body centre to be assessed. I sat in Gee's back room and alternated between shaking and sighing. I drank very sweet coffee, smoked half a hundredweight in tobacco and ate toast slathered in butter and honey.

It was a few hours before I could get it together to go pick up the courtesy car. The courtesy car, I've decided is the punishment for my lapse of attention. I try very hard not to hate it. I'm being grateful that a) I have a courtesy car, because having to rely on public transport for the next few weeks would be a nightmare b) it's clean, tidy and new. Can you tell I write that with gritted teeth?

When I said to the insurance company that it was my fault; that I broke the cardinal rule of road traffic collisions (RTCs) and told the other driver so, the very nice lady laughed. She said if I hadn't have said it was my fault, she would have been telling me so.

I thought I was clear to cross the junction, I wasn't. It's quite cut and dried. If I had a do-over, I would do it differently. I don't. So there it is. No one died. When I said that to the guy who winched my Pride and Joy up the back of his lorry, he just looked at me and shook his head. He said that he wished all of the RTCs he went to had a similar story. He said he seen things that still give him nightmares.

So, all in all, I'm shaken, not stirred.