Prime number

I am now 45, a solidly middle-aged number, or as you might say, I am in my prime. I must admit to not feeling very prime. I feel a bit like I did at 29: okay with ageing in principle, but not really convinced that I am where I “should” be at this point in my life. This is a good thing for me to remember, though, because by the time 30 rolled around I had realised that nobody felt like they were where they “should” be, nobody had it together, it was okay to just carry on and keeping figuring shit out. That’s probably still true, even if I don’t really feel it.

I had hoped to get my own birthday good news (like C did), but instead it was bad news, a no on a job that had seemed promising. I’m okay with it, but I did shed a quiet tear or two* over the general “fuck, STILL not going anywhere” situation. Still glad the answer came on my birthday though, because (a) good to have clarity, rather than staying wired and waiting, and (b) when you’re feeling cheerful and loved is a good time to get bad news; it’s much easier to shrug it off. And I do feel very loved. My family is the bestest. So that’s all right then.

* I cry so bloody easily these days, and by “these days” I mean for years now. My feelings are just so very close to the surface and it’s not even just the result of semi-recent job stresses; it started at least five years ago. I remember crying like this around the time a friend was going through some deeply traumatic shit. That was just second-hand grief and yet I was welling up at the drop of a hat. And it hasn’t really stopped. I am very over it and yet, not. Gah.

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