What I am finally over...
And the things I have let go
I penned this essay in the hairdresser, although it was over three hours of hell because I hate getting my hair done. (I do love my hair stylist.)
I cannot see the point of sitting in a chair for an eternity when I could be doing more productive things with my time.
I love my new colour, a blend of grey and dark flecks.
As I advance toward a full head of grey, I begin to unravel the things that, with age, I have let go of.
I always wanted to be part of the "in group" at school, one of the cool kids you looked up to, which, in my case, is not so hard as I stand at a mere 5'3".
Gymnastics was my all-consuming passion (given way to yoga and pilates), and my friends and I were on the elite squad at school, the gym club, and then university.
I had little time to think about being part of the in-group, as 99.9% of my time was spent in a gym with training friends at least four years older than me.
My absolute commitment to the sport meant I never really had the opportunity to get to or even try to be part of this special group.
It wasn't until I got to the 6th form (16-18 years) that my presence became known for gaining recognition for my gymnastic achievements, notably because the headmaster would mention the sporting accolades achieved by students in school assemblies, much to my dying embarrassment.
But this launched me into the echelons of recognition by the in-group.
Suddenly, I had friends who wanted to get to know me and my obsession with Gymnastics, and I wanted to be part of a group of cool students made up of boys and girls.
I never felt the need or was under pressure to conform to wearing a particular brand of shoe, hair, or makeup. I was happy being me with all the insecurities that befit an angst teen.
As I worked through my twenties and thirties, I knew I was not 'that person' who readily fitted in.
It became even more apparent when my children were at school.
One stand-out group of women, and if you watch the "Motherland" show on UK TV, you'll see what I am talking about.
Women who wanted to be a part of something, to fit in through hairdos, manicures, or wealth.
I was and still am running a business, so immediately, I didn't have the free time to have a coffee and a chat nor the money, to be honest.
I very definitely was never part of that school set.
Society and the media bombard us with the idea that we must look or be something other than we are.
We are surreptitiously pushed to follow trends and ideas and adopt certain attitudes in a vain attempt to gain approval and acceptance.
And this need to fit in is, at best, a fleeting pursuit and, at worst, a distraction from what matters.
At 61, I've come to appreciate that my quirkiness is a part of me and people like me for who I am, not what I am.
Integrity, kindness, compassion, and authenticity are attributes I value and endeavour to live by. They are far more important to me than my one and only Prada handbag.
Relationships built on mutual connections rather than superficial admiration are the connections I value. I have shed the desire or need to be something other than myself.
I embrace my foibles, my imperfections, and random insane moments.
There is a profound sense of living authentically without needing external validation, although it is nice to be validated sometimes.
Given the turbulent world, aiming to live with intention and purpose is more valued than ever. Standing out because you are genuine is more important than aligning yourself with values that don't align with your own.
The things that matter the most to me are family, first and foremost, friends, kindness, and spending time with people who are in sync rather than seeking approval from those who barely know me.
There is a freedom that comes with not trying to impress people just for a few likes and follows.
That comes with age. I've stopped caring what people think if my clothes aren't entirely on trend, although I think they are. If my shoes don't match my handbag, that's okay.
I care deeply about living up to my full potential and embracing the eccentricities that make me who I am.
I will never forget the importance of handwritten notes at Christmas, Easter and birthdays.
I don't care if we live in a digital age; taking a few minutes to express gratitude on paper is a dying art I refuse to let go of.
And no matter how old I am, a thread count of over 300+ is essential for all bedlinen I purchase, and I will not compromise.
Finally, I will never tire of explaining CDs, Blockbuster and Dial-Up to the younger generation.
