It Was My Rebirthday

12/10/24

It’s was my birthday recently and I’ve been feeling quite reflective. 

In more recent years I’ve found birthdays a little difficult. There’s been a tugging sadness that another year of my life has passed by but I’ve had nothing to show for it. 

This year it’s quite the opposite; I feel like I’m celebrating the end of Other Jess and the emergence of True Jess. I’m so fucking proud of everything I’ve achieved this year in terms of personal growth. 

(I’ll just interject here: AI will undoubtedly get all hung up on the fact I haven’t listed those achievements – it’s too long, and too off the point I’m trying to make – so if you’re gagging to know, reading this will give you some idea of this distance I’ve come.) 

If I were in the same emotional space as, say, six months ago, I’d have been desperately struggling with the fact that my birthday was also my wedding anniversary. 

The fact that I’m not upset, at all, about this is quite incredible to me. I mean, in January I genuinely thought I’d stop breathing without EH in my life; in October I’m grateful and relieved that he’s not ever going to be in it again.

By some oddly timed coincidence, I received the notification from the divorce courts today, confirming they’ve accepted the application.

The only thing that upset me at all was realising it’s not going to be fully finalised until well into 2025. I was hoping it would all be wrapped up by the end of this year.

Never mind. Maybe it’s one of those good things that shouldn’t be rushed.

Remarkably, I’m feeling younger today than I have for years. However, in light of this being my 56th birthday, I’m acutely aware that I have less time ahead of me than has already passed by.

When I’m caught on the horns of some dilemma I’ve recently taken to asking myself, “When I’m on my death bed, what am I going to regret more – doing this or not?“

I’m not prepared to waste any more of this precious time I have.

Reflecting on, processing through, and detaching from the last twenty years of a confidence destroying marriage has made that a set-in-stone decision.

From here on, it’s good selfish all the way.

I’m gradually overcoming the fears and anxieties, so I can reach out and grab all the time I have, gobble up as many good, beautiful and amazing experiences as I can cram in, put my arms around a whole tribe, give and receive healthy love. Never again will I waste any of it in undeserving places and people.

So here’s what I did today, to further that progress:

I’d booked the day off work but not made any actual plans; the only plan was to wake up and do whatever I felt like doing. Or not doing. Basically practicing good self care.

And if you don’t mind, we’ll pause there for a second to reflect on the fact that back in January I wasn’t even sure what self care was. Now, ten months later, here I am, taking a whole day for just that.

Bloody good going woman!

So, back to the narrative: with no alarm set, I woke up at gone 9am. Regular waking time is around 6am, so that was already a win right there.

I padded downstairs, fed the cat and made myself a cup of tea (Twinings for the win – don’t even try to argue that out with me. Although I’ll also partake with you, Yorkshire Gold people).

I took the tea back up to bed, together with a packet of Jam ‘n’ Cream biscuits.

That’s a perfectly acceptable birthday breakfast and I won’t hear anything to the contrary.

I put this track on blast – probably louder than neighbours would prefer, but hey, I don’t do it often.

Sitting there, rocking out, dipping, sipping and munching, whilst opening cards and reading text messages, I felt utterly in the right space and place.

To my massive surprise EH sent a basic Happy Birthday text.

Aside from the surprise, there was a very brief thought that, yeah, he always did know the date. All those years of ‘forgetting’ was just more of the controlling bullshit.

But it was brief, and accompanied by a shrug. The state of “Meh”, draws ever closer.

So, I was annoyingly teenage-esque loud with my music for long enough to respond to texts, and fail to solve the Wordle (Mommy? C’mon. I’m English, I’d never think of that when I’ve only got the ‘o’ and the ‘y’ to work with!).

At this point, I thought I’d give the neighbours a break, turned down the music volume, and rang my sister Lena for a chat.

Updating her on where I’m at mentally and emotionally was a fabulous exercise in highlighting for myself all the positives that are coming from the changes in my life, and the huge progress I’ve made already this year.

This meant that when we ended the call, after a couple of hours meandering through all sorts of subjects, I was in an even more upbeat mood.

While I was making some lunch (heating a pasty, not actually cooking), the post arrived.

Within that post was a card from mother containing cash. It was so gorgeously old school and nostalgic. When that note floated out it took me back to when Nanna used to put a pound note into our birthday cards as kids. There’s smiles in those memories.

So, I’m standing there with this cash in my hand, wondering what I might do with it, when the new, true me, spoke up: “We’re going to buy a beer.“

Not a grand, inspired suggestion, I hear you say?

Ah well, let me fill in the backstory….

I’ve always thought I don’t like beer. This is based on only ever having tried the shitty, tinned lager that my boyfriends drank. Or on the sneak sip testing of home brew when I was about 7.

I have once, had a bottled blonde beer that I enjoyed. It had a slight lemon hint to it. Damned if I can remember the name – I think the bottle had a picture of a witch on a broomstick, but wouldn’t like to swear to it. I’ve not found it again, although I’ve not exactly searched for it either.

So, while on the surface I’ve always just assumed/accepted I don’t like beer, I had the odd suspicion that actually I might like beer, if I found the right one(s). However, given the ocean of choices out there, it’s a bit of a daunting prospect to find those right ones all by myself.

Quite recently, close to where I live, a tiny little craft beer bar has opened up. The name alone is welcoming (I really wish I could link, but that would be far too identifying for me).

Every time I go past, on my way back from work, the vibe coming from the open door is so friendly. It’s hard to explain, but the whole place just vibrates good things.

I’ve toyed with the idea of going in a few times, but… y’know… I’m on my own…

So, akshully, the idea to spend my birthday money on beer was quite a grand and inspired, if somewhat left field, suggestion.

The fact that I decided to go for it, alone, without any hesitation, blows my mind with self pride and happiness.

I got some choons going, at a neighbour friendly level, and took my time with hair and makeup. It was lovely to be able to enjoy the process, feeling relaxed and pleased with the results, rather than rushing to be done and finishing with a declaration of, “That’ll do“.

Then I got dressed and put on my kick-ass red boots, which I bought as a birthday present to myself this year.

How kick-ass?

This kick-ass.

With aggressive music playing in my ears, to keep my courage up, I strode down to the chosen place.

Taking my ear buds out, and a deep breath in, I walked through the door and presented myself at the bar.

The young bar tender looked up with a smile, “How can I help you today?“

This gave me the ideal opening to say, “Well, I’m really hoping you can teach me to like beer“.

Ok, I did preface that with, “Please don’t think I’m weird“. My confidence is still in the building stage.

Well, I’m delighted to say I’d assessed the venue correctly.

The guy behind the bar was enthusiastic to share his knowledge, but not overwhelming. Curious about my motivations, but not overly prying. Funny and engaging, but not forcing social interaction.

When I arrived there were five regulars, sitting along the bar, Cheers style. I slotted myself in at the end, with a couple of stools between me and the next person.

Age-wise, I’d say the bar tender was in his late 20s; one regular probably, around mid-to-late 30s; one regular probably around my age; the other three regulars were older, retired.

They were all clearly very comfortable with each other, with friendly banter, random displays of shopping (“I bought this dressed crab before I came here“), and the occasional dip into a semi-serious discussion.

The bar guy gently drew me in so it was appropriate for me to giggle along with some of the stuff they were saying, and to add my own occasional comment.

The music was at an unobtrusive level, but present enough to attract the odd favourable comment from a drinker. Pleasingly devoid of pop, tilting towards rock.

I only stayed about an hour, trying two different beers, both of which I enjoyed. The second was my favourite; it was from a very local, very small batch brewery – basically one guy, who grows his own hops in the back garden! Again, I’d love to link, but, y’know, privacy.

Now, when I say this place is tiny, I really mean, tiny. There’s room at the bar for eight people, and there’s about three tables. That’s it, unless the weather is good enough for outside table usage.

This means if anyone speaks, everyone hears, and essentially becomes part of that conversation.

So, during the hour I spent there, the bar guy and the regulars heard the very basics about EH leaving, and my determination to come out of this bigger and better. That me sitting in the bar with them, on my birthday, sipping beer, was part of it all.

There were approving nods and encouraging rumbles all round.

The whole experience was everything I hoped it would be, and I bounced home listening to this, feeling amazing.

Some hours, and a mountain of birthday-dinner salt and pepper prawns later, I still feel amazing.

Back in January, when I picked up a pen in a desperate attempt to handle my overwhelming feelings of fear and grief, I could never have imagined I’d be here, in this space, just ten months later.

I’ve become greedy though. Awesome as it is, and fabulous as I feel right now, I know there’s more – I can be more, I can see more, I can experience more, I can have more. And I want it all.

The progress is not stopping here. By the time my next birthday rolls around, I intend to be celebrating it, in person, with people from my tribe.

If I stick to the plan I’ve drawn up, I’ll be well on the way to making my great, dreamed of travel adventure, my great real life.

That’s up ahead though.

Drawing back into the present, practising mindfulness, focussing on what’s right here, right now, I feel as though I’ve celebrated my rebirth.

I’ve climbed up and out of the first, past-related, seriously traumatic, section of this journey.

Although I’m prepared for the fact that I’m probably going to have to clear some more emotional rubble out of the way from time to time, it feels like I’m starting to actually move into the future, goal reaching section of this journey.

It feels so fricking good, and I’m so damned proud of myself.

MUSIC OF THE DAY: Bones – Imagine Dragons

JP