Today I am 660
...months not years! What does our age really mean, anyway? Why are the numbers so important? I don't think they need to be.
What should a birthday post contain? What should a birthday post celebrate? Who am I writing it for? Me? You? Them? Does anyone really care?
Well, I’m damned if I know for sure…
The thing about birthdays is they so often tend to focus on the number, not the content. As the title illustrates, the number is entirely subjective. I have now lived a total of 660 months. Why does the addition of months (not years) make it seem like much less time? Or, maybe that’s just how I deal with and have always viewed numbers, which is, in fact, not well. Numbers in general mean next to nothing to me, and even less when viewed out of context.
I was a numbers klutz in school who didn’t even pass her O grade Arithmetic (yes, that bad). Instead, I took remedial maths and gained a certificate1 to prove I could indeed cope with numbers in carefully illustrated, real-world contexts - bills, budgets etc. Can’t say my number issues have ever held me back in life. I have been in management and financial planning roles in various work guises, and no one was ever the wiser. So let’s agree that the digits involved are neither here nor there, but the experiences held within those months, or years, most certainly are.
The first 120 months were full of new and implausible challenges. Getting my chops around solids like food and making sounds and words, interpreting the sounds and words of those around me. Bottom shuffling to (briefly) crawling to walking, dancing and tumbling - not running, that was never a forte. Looking at everything, deeply feeling immense emotions mine and others, just sucking on life. From early on, I was making up stories accompanied by animals real and toy, very often in the land of Behind The Sofa. From where I would sporadically burst with a sonnet, song or skit to the delight of my adoring audience (my granny).
Getting to 240 months, now that was a long haul! So much happens during those months in most people’s lives, that I would need a whole post just to deal with that time in mine. If I have to sum it up in a few words, I’d plump for; music (listening not performing), learning (but not studying), indecision (mine and not mine), experimenting (with failure and success), and responsibility (chosen and not). I left school young, fooled around, dreamed big and small, made numerous mistakes, but in the end I was working full-time by the time I was eighteen. I had dropped out of college, travelled the east coast of America, and was now living 500 miles from my family and where I had grown up.
Starting out towards 360 months, I was filled with a vigour and independence that I thought I would surely never experience again (I was wrong, reader, see later proof). Important firsts came in this time period - first own car, first own mortgage, first own marriage, first own dog. They were months of settling. Settling down and settling for what was pre-scripted. Turns out whoever was in charge of writing my part in this particular play had decided this would be a testing time emotionally and physically, or perhaps I was just suffering inevitable growing pains.
Bumped and bruised, I reached 480 months! Whew, that’s a big number, isn’t it? Almost as many as the miles I put between me and home as a teenager. Distance has been another big theme in my life. I have led a somewhat nomadic existence, moving every few years for one reason or another, with never quite enough time anywhere to put down solid, anchoring roots. Between 360 and 480 I had moved home in Scotland twice and in my 420th month I upped sticks and moved to the south of Spain. By my 456th month, I was on the move again. This time north to Catalunya and this time alone2 again and with that vigour and independence again (see, I told you) front and centre pushing me on as I tackled a new career as an English Language teacher, a new language, Catalan, and many new connections were forged. Some of those remain to this day and others dissolved or came undone, as connections often do.
600 months arrived and although the intervening months may have been tough at times and I had experienced some heavy personal blows, work challenges, the dormant volcano that is menopause and a crashing all-time low in my mental health, the outlook was now very definitely positive and encouraging. I had been lucky enough to find one of life’s serendipitous gems - true love. Thus, I embarked on the 600s in the very best of company and spirits, happy to be where I was and even more importantly, who I was.
So here I sit on my 660th birthday, a little bit older and (perhaps) a little bit wiser but most definitely content with my lot, with how this story has played out thus far and with the characters who have interwoven through this tapestry of my life. Every place, every person, every experience for the better or the worse, have driven me, led me, shoved me, cajoled me and carried me to this moment. I wouldn’t change one month of those that lie behind me, and I can only hope that I am afforded the grace to experience many, many more similarly interesting, uplifting and enriching months ahead.
If you are celebrating your birthday today too - Happy ____* months Birthday to you!!!
*Insert relevant number for you, dear reader. Please feel free to use a calculator to do the sums - I did!
SCOTVEC module in Relevant Maths Skills
Not truly alone as I was accompanied by my beautiful black Lab Mac who spent 180 months on this earth padding by my side, way too few by my reckoning.
Happy 660th Darienne. I really enjoyed listening to your voice with my morning cuppa. So great to get to know you better through this piece. I'm 560 btw but feeling about 990 today.
As it turns out there are many thing to celebrate in this birthday post.
Nice to meet you, Darienne and happy birthday!