Saturday 10 November 2012

Who's that girl?

Recently I was looking through a box of old photos... you know how you pop up to the attic/down to the basement to get something, pull out an old box overflowing with junk and before you know it, five days have past as you wonder what you were thinking dating XYZ and wearing florescent yellow/shoulder pads/red ginger spice hair/anything white on your lower half? There is a reason that the 80s shouldn't have a comeback...

The thing that struck me most (wasn't that having veneers was the best thing that I ever did, dear god, how did I ever get an onscreen job back in the day with teeth that pointed towards my left ear?) was that I used to be fun. With a capital F.

There I am in New Zealand, sweating in a dive bar in a fake leopard print fur skirt (??); climbing on to a bar in Hong Kong in a cocktail dress, dancing up a storm at a wedding here and there in dubious outfits, swimming in the sea in the Maldives, hugging friend after friend after friend (some I remember, some I am not sure I ever knew their name...), cartwheeling, hair stuck to my head, grin from ear to ear, not a care in the world... Everything feels so easy and carefree back in those days - 20s... early 30s.

Now, well now, I'm a world away from that girl - in every way possible. Gone is that genuine smile and 'I'm up for it' stance. Instead I'm ready to erupt at any given moment - always just on the edge... just one slip away from exploding. I just have so much on my freakin' mind, I feel overwhelmed. I write endless lists, yet all the time I am a headless chicken, chasing my tail - forgetting everything... I permanently feel like I've forgotten something - a child? My keys? My mind? I feel exhausted - am desperate to get some acupuncture needles spiking me - but never get the time. If I'm not at work, I'm working at home - washing/feeding/dressing/clearing up after 2 kids - and then collapsing in a heap on the sofa, hoping to raise the energy to climb the 12 stairs to bed.

I miss that girl. I miss being her so much. I just don't have the energy to be her anymore. Or the time. I don't even get the time  to pee alone (unless at work) let alone, do something worthwhile. I'm aware that my career has plateaued and I have been in the same job since 2008 and really, really, it is time to try and spread my wings - but the same issues remain - what to do that allows me home for bath time - that means I don't spend my life commuting and never seeing my kids. I mean one kid is such a diva, sometimes NOT seeing her is not bad thing (I climb into my car after dropping her at nursery and grip the wheel like my life depended on - just exhaling, that I have got through a morning at home - on to the next part of my day.

I never get a moment to myself - to THINK, to plot the next move - to pluck my eyebrows (sporting a monobrow Noel Gallagher would even recoil from at present) or to clear out the veg drawer in the fridge. Not that veg clearing is how I want to be spending my time. I'd like to watch a film; read a paper; catch up on Breaking Bad box set a writer friend gave me... Pick my blackheads... you know - just the stuff we all do when we get a moment. but I never do. Maybe if I had a different job - then I would have the time - but how can I find that - I don't have the TIME.

You'll tell me that it won't be like this forever - you know the endless work, the no money, no personal space, no time to cut my toenails... I know it won't. BUT it feels like it is forever. Now.

I wish I was that girl. I want her glowing skin and tipsy squiffy smile, her zest for life and hope that it will reward. Instead of the grumpy, frumpy, washed out simmering angry permanently PMT'd woman that I have become. I want a moment for me. So just maybe, for one second I can feel like she is still there - not that far away after all....

1 comment:

Claire said...

You've GOT to post some of those old pics!!!