This is 58

Can no longer pretend I'm in my mid-50s. This is late 50s territory now, fam!

Today is my 58^th birthday. As I write that, I’m in a state of disbelief, like how can I be this fucking old? In my head I’m still 25 – until I look in the mirror (with my glasses on) and see the wrinkles. I recall my mother-in-law getting new glasses and saying wistfully that she preferred seeing her face through her ‘rose-tinted spectacles’. Me too, Luce, ME TOO.

And my neck?? WT actual F happened there? When I should be writing a script/book I can often be found Googling do neck creams actually work? And microneedling versus laser treatment for your neck. Then I look at the cost of this malarkey and resume my practice of radical acceptance.

It is the bastard patriarchy distracting us with ageist, misogynistic BS to keep women poor and make us less troublesome, and I do have to keep reminding myself of that. But still, I have been known to do a search of Am I being a bad feminist if I go for any anti-aging treatments? Because I really do want Gemini to tell me that it’s okay for me to have an expensive, painful treatment that will probs do absolutely sweet FA to my saggy neck.

Of course, when you’ve lost a few people close to you, you really do begin to understand that aging is a privilege not accorded to everyone and that you do need to stop stressing over every perceived physical imperfection. Although we might be as wrinkled as hell, we’re just FILLED to the brim with wisdom at this age. Hahahaha, excuse me while I larf. I get treated like the wise old sage at TV story meetings now which makes me want to scream: ‘I KNOW NOTHING!’ because if there’s anything I’ve learnt about getting older, it’s frankly how little I do know.

When I was younger, I thought I had it all worked out. I was so sure of how my life was going to play out – that at some point I was going to ‘make it’ and make it big. God, I miss those days. I’ve since realised that once you reach a certain goal, it becomes mundane and you’re already looking towards the next challenge. ‘There’s always going to be another mountain,’ Miley Cyrus was not wrong, fam.

It’s really a lifelong lesson in being present, in truly understanding that all we have is this moment and that what ultimately matters is the process – because the outcome can’t be guaranteed. I have deadlines for scripts I’m writing and editing and for books I’m either ghostwriting or co-authoring, and I love all that work but I also make sure I have a few ‘soul’ projects going on. Whether I’m adapting one of my books into a script or working on a new novel, I like to do stuff that may never make a cent but that brings me joy.

One thing that consistently brings me joy is the practice of ‘grounding’ where you walk around outside on the grass in your bare feet for 10-20 minutes. Hurrah for climate change and El Nino that I can do this in mid-winter with absolutely no ill-effects at all (FYI this is ironic). After I’ve done this, I go and hug our 102 year old oak tree for a bit and I have to say I feel much calmer and just…happier. It is also supposed to help you sleep better. The family think I’m batshit crazy, but the great thing about age is that the shelf with the fucks given about this is completely empty.

What has helped my nervous system greatly is the practice of mindfulness. I used to have an absolute terror of flying, to the point where I would avoid trips or we would have to drive somewhere rather than fly because I hated it so much. Of course, I watched Air Crash Investigation religiously – like women find serial killer doccies so relaxing – but yes, it was the Headspace Fear Of Flying meditation that eventually cured me of my phobia.

So, I guess those are my tiny bits of wisdom, and I was about to give you a list of things I’ve learnt but honestly, I couldn’t be arsed. There are enough wellness people telling you how to live, go read one of their newsletters and wear a weight vest and eat more protein blah blah blah. Oh, that is something I’ve learnt, this is not a blog, it’s a newsletter.

Last thing, I had dinner with my extended family the other day to welcome my extremely clever nephew back from the UK.

Aside: he did point out that he is my godchild and where was his present? Soz, dude, I’ll get on it.

But that’s not the point of this story. The point is that because I’m still on my sober journey, I was drinking Savannah Zero which is surprisingly refreshing. For my second one, the waitress bought me a Savannah Light which has 3% alcohol. I had a few sips and could immediately tell that it had alcohol in it and pointed it out to the staff who were suitably appalled and terribly apologetic. My family, however, were not and were all: ‘Yay! Welcome back to the dark side!’ which did make me cackle.

Obvs this would not have been so amusing if I did indeed have the sort of alcohol use disorder where I immediately felt the need to drink the bar dry, but I don’t so all was well. Perhaps that’s something else that I’ve learnt with age? Don’t make a fuss and make people feel like shit when there’s really no need. Yes, there are times when we have to speak up and tell people exactly what we stand for but most of the time the best course of action is to STFU and give people a little grace.

The Birthday Girl gown at Life Day Spa in Rosebank

Last, last thing…if you want to support my writing, buy a copy of my #sobercurious memoir ‘My Year Of Not Getting Sh*tfaced’. Until next time xxx