I wrote a wedding guest post yesterday for Indieberries.
Well, it was supposed to be a wedding post, but as it already happened once
before I ended up talking about vampires. Which was probably just as well,
because who are we kidding?? I know
nothing about weddings. Though no expert either, vampires just seemed a safer
choice of topic and I do know my Eric from my Edward (thanks, nieces!).
So either way it seemed that some people liked my story and
one commentator was looking forward to reading more vampire stories. Which I
hate to disappoint. Then again I think I have written all about them that I can,
because – you may need to cover your eyes, eager vampire stories fan – since an
overexposure to pouting Stefan, I am actually slightly over vampires. Dig here and
here and here if you want to know my former insights on the eternal matter.
Today however I still have some thoughts about my birthday and my previous year to
share. I guess most people start reminiscing around their birthdays in one way
or another. Some before, some after – once the pressure is off you and realize
it is not much different to be 28 34 than it was to be 27 33. I was reading some old posts again and
remembered that though my birthday itself was properly celebrated last year, I
was not in a good space. I was in a relationship that was completely wrong and
if I care to admit it made me somehow miserable. For an odd reason or another I
accepted this misery as part of an adult relationship. As much as I tried to
tell myself they could, but pink bubbly and filet in cappuccino truffle sauce
(a phrase I never use is in order: OMG!) at the Pot Luck Club couldn't make up
for the fact that we were arguing all throughout my birthday dinner. Things ended shortly after, but I still felt
off. A layer too little…out of my skin… uncomfortable in my own skin…and all of
them at once.
In June I had my long booked appointment with Rod Suskin.
The last time I had spent money on revealing the future and explaining the past
I was in a dark square off Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Equally drunk on
Bloody Marys and spooky vampire stories (see, dear vampire stories fan, I can
always sneak one in for you!) it made complete sense to pay an old witch to
tell me about burning towers, the sun, the moon, and the knight in shining
armour following them. The next morning I washed the prophecies and the
hangover down with two aspirin and forgot all about it. The only reason why I
would spend money on a session with Rod as expensive as pink bubbly and filets
in cappuccino truffle sauce for a party of twenty was the combined effort of my
aunt and uncle. Two people who I trust completely, who cannot be more
different, but who were both utterly convinced by his skills. So was I after
the session. I still don’t know if I believe in astrology, but I believed him
when I told me that I was okay the way I am and that my life choices are on the
right track. He told me to stop worrying. He told me that everything was going
to be fine. Wouldn't you rather believe someone who tells you that you can have
everything you ever wanted and maybe make it a self-fulfilling prophecy than a silly,
little voice that advises to be sensible and that you can’t always get what you
want? Maybe I was naïve, but I thought I should at least try.
So I tried and before you hold your breath, no, my life did
not just become magically better overnight. I still had a difficult year 2012,
where things just felt harder all the time than I thought they should feel. The
year culminated in a trip back home, which turned out less than exciting and a
New Year’s party with an about to be divorced couple. When the first day of the
new year dawned I was not only hangover, but had no voice to yell at them to
shut up and stop arguing. I was convinced this year was going to be equally bad
as the last with such a way to start it. It wasn't.
Somehow, something in me had shifted after this trip and I
found a non-New Year’s New Year’s resolution when I came back to Cape Town. I
think without knowing the words, I took Rumi to heart when he wrote: Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to
change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.
Mind you, most of the days I still fail miserably at
changing into the person I ultimately like to be. I worry and the worry makes
me bitchy and confused and indecisive. Some days however I don’t fail quite as
much and just with these few days and the good intention, life has become
somehow easy. Or at least a little less hard. I might not be a glass if half
full kind of person yet, but at least I have learned that even half a glass of
wine is better than no wine at all and that’s good enough reason to keep trying.
