We’re one hinge swing away from 2012, and like all human mammals I find myself reflecting on my year. 2011 had some awesome moments, but I have to admit, dear reader, that they were sometimes cold comfort as I got used to a whole new way of being in the world. The reason, which I have hinted at here but never fully explained (being an old-fashioned girl who remembers the concept of privacy), was the breakdown of my marriage after 20 years together and the subsequent recalibration of my motherly duties to two young children. I had incredibly favourable circumstances in this regard, being financially independent and being able to remain on good terms with the kids’ dad, but it still sucked all of the joy and industry out of me. I have never been so tired, so sick, so lazy, nor so self-absorbed. The year whooshed past my ears at supersonic speed, and all I have now are the tinny echoes.
And yet, hope blooms again. Other wonderful things, both personal and professional, are already coming to be. I realise now that if you are lucky enough to live a long life, you can’t avoid bad shit happening. It’s a simple mathematical equation: the longer you are out here, the greater the chance that one of those ill winds is going to blow you no good. I am in my forties; I was probably due. And then, because I’m still out here, more fair winds may yet come my way. Damn I’m grateful to still be out here. So grateful.
So here’s to all the shit, because if you put shit on your garden it might stink for a while; but then your flowers bloom in vibrant colours.