Confusion!!

Back in the day, when I was a spiritely 18-year-old I was convinced that my life was as confusing as a computer programming language. I was positive that with age, like wine, things would only get better. This retort obviously didn’t get the much-needed attention I wanted but instead I was politely told that life only gets confusing, as you grow older. This most unexpected remark was uttered by a 26-year-old debonair who used to intimidate the very hair that seems to amuse him now. I scoffed, yes my brazenness and a bit of intimidation getting the better of me, only to be regretted years later.

Now at 22, I can’t help but feel that life is far worse than it was at 18, but we live and learn and things get easier to handle, that’s true for me, and it should be true for everybody else. But I’m sadly mistaken; it’s not, apparently.

N at 30 feels awfully devastated at the latest turn of events. Work pressures and other issues are just driving her to a point of no return and I feel helpless. It’s worse because she is an only child. It’s worse because no one’s pushing her. It doesn’t help that she can’t talk openly with her parents. It’s scary that she thinks everyone’s malicious. So back to a chat with the equally challenging debonair turned chum, lifesaver, partner in all things evil and confidante. He stressed over and over again that it must be tough being 30 and a woman. That I find now all too believable. So what do I do in a situation like this, advice her about the finer points of working smarter (no way), rely on God to help (can’t really count on him) or just simply listen and support her in whatever she wants to do (that’s the way to go). I’ve been thinking this through, really there isn’t much any of us could do, it’s an inner battle, one only she can fight. Age doesn’t help, it makes things worse, with growing grey hair comes a lack of self confidence (not true in every case) and oh you must, absolutely must have a support system. I know who makes me laugh, who gives me the best advice, who pushes me beyond the push-able limit, who will hold me when I cry and you get the drift. While typing that I must say I really do have the most wonderful support system, no wonder I pull through every time I go into one of my many phases.

With that I wrap up this rambling post. Damn I worry when menopause hits.

My splendid years

Since I had a bit of time on my hands, decided to evaluate my past in a yearby year format…13 and 14 – They were normal years. Full of fun and frolic. I still climbedwalls and trees, chased boys up the road (not in the way I would have lovedto have chased them). Was dorky, still wore my hair in braids, still woreVictorian frocks which were usually two sizes too big but I thought theywere spectacular.15 was a very different year, I started becoming more girly. With theintroduction to Theatre I took every stride that came, started changing mywardrobe, started talking about things I didn’t know about and as a resultlearnt a lot more things that a 15 year old could have done without. I alsostarted seeing boys in a different light, started attracting older men.Strangely made a very spiritual leap. Developed a crush on a guy at church(that wasn’t the spiritual leap, but it did help because he gave me a hug).That was also the year my bro introduced me to clubbing and I justabsolutely loved it.16 by far was the best year of my life. I was getting used to the whole ideaof being a teenager and was playing the part pretty well. So I let go, had alot of fun and at the same time maintained my principles.17 was the rebellious year. I fought a lot, with the people at church, withmy family. Ditched my friends and completely dived into things I would havenot done otherwise. 17 was also the year I started dating, my first kiss anda whole lot of other things.18 was the career year. My first serious job in a big company. I wasoverjoyed, the parties, the guys, the booze… took it all in and it was ZEN.This also led to my second relationship, which had its absolutely fabulousmoments.19 was the guilty year. I felt bad for everything I’d done, didn’t want tohurt my family who’ve been there for me. I was heartbroken when myrelationship started to fall apart. My career wasn’t doing too well. Met aninteresting guy though whom I fell head over heels in love with but itwasn’t mean to be.20 was the year for change. I stopped my bad girl ways, started attendingchurch, didn’t party so much. Won a couple of Chillies, which did a lot tomy ego and proved that I could still be a worthy asset to the company. Alsomet another interesting guy but unfortunately felt like he was taking medown the wrong road so I cut him off the picture.This year is going to be extremely different from all the other years and Idon’t feel all that bad about being 21. I’m happy. My family is happy. Myfriends are happy. So what more is there to ask for?

21

I waited all my life to turn 21. Now that I’ve turned 21, I feel strange, alienated, unhappy.