A sign.

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I was walking through a shopping centre just over a year ago, waiting to meet someone for coffee. I had fresh ink, not yet dry, and no idea. Not just no idea about the minute or the day, but ‘no idea’ about my destination. First stop-coffee shop, next…the rest of my life. I was at this point where everything I knew as life, was starting to either break down or break up or just plain break.

I was wandering idly through the shops, oblivious to just about everything around me, when I saw this. It was just sitting quietly in the corner of a quaint shop window, hiding behind the china. Somehow these few words struck a chord, and it became my first ever Instagram post. It just seemed so…so…true.
Not long after this, things got worse, rough, broken, and then again, everything totally shattered. Through all this, this kept coming to mind. This sign.

Bear with me while I digress…It makes sense eventually I promise…
So, I’m 38 years old (soon). I know, I know…I don’t look a day over *insert MUCH younger age here*. Stop it with the compliments all of you. But the point is, I don’t know how 38 is supposed to feel? It’s just a number, how long I’ve been here. I’ve packed plenty into it, sure, but there’s plenty more to do. So I guess I could say I don’t ‘feel’ 38, although some days my body disagrees. In a room full of scantily clad 20 something year olds, my mind tends to side with it too, but in general, I don’t see myself as ‘old’. So why does everyone around me?

Have I missed the memo? The note sent out to my generation saying that when you hit this age, you should start relating everything back to this one little number, and let it define who you are and what you do? If there was such a memo, my attention span probably didn’t cover reading it. Maybe I was out that day riding a motorcycle or partying at Soundwave…

The number of people I’ve heard lately saying “I’m too old to…”, I’m too old for…”,  “I can’t because…” is getting increasingly disturbing. I mean come on people…look at Madonna! By my calculation she should be around 106 by now, and the woman is still rocking a two piece. Until your excuse is “I can’t because my zimmer-frame won’t fit in…”, then I don’t want to hear it. I’m not trying to frantically grasp onto delusions of youth here, but honestly…I just don’t get it.

So then this age thing relates back to the magical sign (see, I told you)…It’s never too late to live happily ever after.
Life had changed, dramatically, and left me with destination unknown. Over the coming months, the two ideas started meshing together- ‘Not too late’ and ‘Not too old’. You see, if I didn’t think about starting again, then I wouldn’t get to live again, and I didn’t want to just exist. I wanted a new life-the ever after version. I’m very wanty 😉
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I know a lot of the time I bounce between cynical/dark and ridiculously optimistic/hopeful. Sometimes dark is the easier road. How easy is it to just be that way when you’ve been hurt, when you’ve placed your faith in things that have broken to pieces, when you’ve held onto hope for things that were seemingly hopeless? It’s easier to not look for things in a day that will brighten it, than find the positives. It even seems easier to give up…but it’s not.

How much harder is it to keep hold of that hope against all the odds, when everything and everyone is telling you to let go?…but your heart, your gut, is telling you to not to…so you hold on.
The underlying factor here, is that I have something to hold on TO. I always have. I always knew it, somehow.
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I’ve done enough discovering of who I am. I’m far from perfect, and I’m okay with it. Nobody is supposed to be perfect. Anybody that tells you that they really have their shit together, and knows what’s coming next, is just plain lying. Anybody that tells you that they love themselves completely, is only fooling themselves. I’ve learned to try and see myself, the way I see others, lovingly-despite their flaws, or sometimes even because of them. So…I don’t have my shit together, and I don’t love myself completely, but I do know what I want. I do know what I want to happen next, and it doesn’t have an ending…it has an ever after.
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Cheers Kids
V

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