August 11a, 2001

     So yesterday was my birthday.  

     And also the last day of work at the never-ending temp job.  Which apparently has now ended.

     It was a really strange day of beginnings and endings.  And i've been in an almost melancholy mood since.

     The people at work were very sweet, giving me a cake and a delicate silver bracelet i'd seen a few days before.  Sort of a combination birthday, going away idea - and there was a steady pace of people arriving at my desk to ask what i'd be doing in the future.  Many promises of keeping in touch were made, and i'm fully equipped with email addresses now as well.  i even managed to stay cheerful throughout the day.  Well until the very last well wisher (one of my favourite people there)  followed me downstairs to the lobby and gave me a warm hug.  That's when the tears started.  Making friends to just have to leave them eventually, is really hard.

     It all sounds very much like an ending.  But it was also a beginning as well, since now i'm home for a few weeks to catch my breath, before the next work adventure.  i can enjoy Himself the way i prefer to - get back in touch with, and strengthen, all those relationship things that we put aside because we were just so rushed all the time with the house renos and me working.  i can finish off websites i'd started.  Update the ezine.  Draw the picture of the house and do some writing again.  Make journal entries. (imagine that!) 

     It even felt different when i woke up this morning (still horribly early since it seems my internal clock is used to that now.) It felt weird.  But less rushed.  Before, i'd feel like i had to get out of bed and get working, knowing that i only had a couple of days to catch up on home things, before the work week consumed me again.  This morning it was like 'hmm... i don't have to 'jump' - i can actually do journal entries without guilt.'  Which is exactly what i've been doing.  There wasn't the usual pressure of getting the websites done, which always necessitated pushing this journal aside.

     So it is like a beginning, even though the job was an ending.  It's the start of a few weeks off to catch up.  To make choices about what will continue or not continue when i do go back to work.  A chance to polish skills that can be used for more work placements.  A chance to snuggle with Himself.  That's the most important one.

     All very good things indeed.

     The beginning/ending thing spilled over into my feelings about my birthday as well.  And to be honest, i think i handled it all very gracefully this time.

     It was the ending of my 44th year, and the beginning of my 45th and i can't say i'm  43 any more.  (Note:  people hate it when i explain the concept of how birthdays really work.  Yes, i went from 43 to 44.  HOWEVER.  Being 43 actually meant i was in my 44th year.  my birthday means i finished that many years - i am officially 44 years old. And when i became officially 44, the beginning of my 45th year started.  Okay even i'm confused now.)

     But it didn't feel like much of a change anyway.  And for some odd reason it didn't feel terribly old either.  For years now i've stood in front of the mirror on the fateful day, and in an almost surreal and detached manner looked at myself and thought 'hmm.  so this is what (insert age) looks like.'  Yesterday was no different. And it wasn't as scary as a thought it would be.

      It was like an acknowledgement that yes, i'm not 16 but no, i'm not really very old yet.  There's a bit more of me packed on around my waistline in the last 6 months, but other than that - i'm still me.  Well ... with drugstore colouring in my hair.  But basically that's it for alternative enhancing.  And i guess i'm not doing too bad at all.

     i guess the weirdest part was realizing that i still have lots of time to get all those projects done.  The ones that i know are inside me - drawing and writing and expressing.  Even if i'm never very good at them, i suddenly find myself more willing to try.  i find myself understanding that it doesn't really matter if i do any of it very well.  It's the doing that counts.  And that's a big change from where my head was at even as recently as a year ago - where i believed if things weren't done perfectly, then they shouldn't be done at all.

     What a waste of time.  No more i say!  Maybe growing older is nature's way of shifting our attention away from ourselves - becoming less egocentric and more reflective instead.  Of learning that we'll never conquer the world, but the world won't conquer us either, if we don't let it.

     And now i'm gone to inhale the wonderful scent from the huge bouquet of flowers Himself got me yesterday.  And  inhale the scent of Him as well.

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