It was my birthday this week. I was born on 4th September 1972 at 3.30am in Llanelli. I am 42 and officially middle aged. I was the youngest of 3 boys. My mother wanted a girl so badly she pretended I was a girl for the first 2 days of my life. That may explain a lot.
I'm never really that fussed about birthdays. Especially when you get to my age. But I have to admit I never thought I would look or feel like this at 42.
When I was young 42 seemed like a proper grown up. Usually you would be married, have a side parton, be wearing some kind of knitwear, have kids, a job, a pension and be what to the outside world is a mature adult. I'm still waiting on that one.
A guy at a meeting last night was wearing a t-shirt with a slogan that said "I'm pretending to be a responsible adult." Pretty much summed it up for me.
I've never really thought about age until this Birthday. For some reason, having a grown up full time job and lots of other things made me think about where I'm at and what I'm doing. I've never really had a game plan for life, if I'm honest. This year made me think, 'perhaps I should?'
Turning 42 has made me think, "what do I want?" "Where do I want to go?" "Who do I want to be?". It's not a full blown mid life crisis. Hopefully I'll stave that off for another few years. But it definitely got me thinking.
I do feel different. Even from last year, even 40. Definitely from my 30's. This may sound ridiculous but I do feel more mature. Measured. Like I'm gaining more perspective. Dare I say it in some quarters more at ease with myself.
Don't get me wrong I'm still rash, dive into things, act obsessively and set far too much faith in outside things to fill up my head and life, but I can see a glimmer of something else that I simply couldn't before.
I notice where I fuck up or misbehave much quicker now. The trick will be to see it before I do it and act differently. I'm still working on that one.
Someone said to me they thought I had avoided any responsibility over my life because of my childhood and it was about time I took control and got stuck in. (I'm presuming they meant commitment, marriage, kids, building that kind of thing)
It was a bit harsh. We are all different and not everyone has to follow convention. But it did hit a nerve because deep down there has always been an element of fear and rejection that has made me avoid commitment and serious long term situations. My defects have driven me deep down and I'm beginning to see and understand that.
Brutal self honesty is painful, embarrassing but good. It is a process to find the right balance. We cannot tyranise ourselves and claim avoiding responsibility is purely because of self centred fear. It's also a life human decision to want to enjoy yourself and be free. You're a long time dead.
But accepting yourself and your past, your defects and deficiencies is healthy. When we accept our good and bad we no longer have to worry about it so much. Fuck it, life is really too short. Who said we must be perfect anyway? Oh yes, my perfectionism of course.
I got some amazing presents a 42 man should get. A beautiful formal shirt (white cuffs and collars), a watch, some de-hairing products for nose, ears, beard and back (because now I am running into the random hair age), grooming products, a tablet with keyboard for writing, a sex product, a great book, a detective DVD box set, a writing journal and some quality aftershave. How lucky am I? Quality Mans gifts there. What a lucky boy.
The week has been the usual roller coaster of normality and self induced obsessional madness. No change there. All self sabotage of course. I find the most weird and wonderful ways to make myself feel awful. One day it will all be in a book but I just cant share it on a public forum.
My life is pretty busy at the moment. Lots going on so it has been difficult to write but I will try and and keep it up this week. Promise. I know it's not exactly earth shattering material at the moment but just wanted you to know I'm still up for The Inside Job. Hope you are too.
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas E Evans
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