can i quit my birthday?

Once again I was hit by a “why would anyone want to read what I have to write” crisis and have barely opened my laptop in weeks….

I let things take over; taking images of my hair for my dwindling hair fetishist subscribers, treating our giant ridgeback puppy like he’s my 5th child, big shops wandering the aisles of Tesco like there are clues for life hidden behind boxes of Shreddies.

I have been a mum, just a mum, a mum who slightly resents being in the car so much ferrying her children to early morning clubs or late night clubs or clubs that make absolutely no sense to do seeing as no one enjoys them, not much happens in them other than endless “water breaks” and they cost a fortune….yet WE STILL DO THEM because they wanted to sign up for them and we are not quitters.

Except maybe I am?

I am a quitter.

I’ve always been a quitter.

I quit tennis and swimming as a child, after years of training and money spent on rackets and goggles and tournaments and galas. I quit singing, I quit dancing, I quit art school. I quit university. I quit secretary school. I quit sewing and life drawing courses. I quit working at Urban Outfitters and multiple restaurants. I quit pilates and hot yoga and I quit reading classics. I’ve quit podcasts and I’ve continually quit pretending I like things.

I love quitting!

But I must not tell my children that.

It was my birthday yesterday.

I felt glad the sun was not shining when I woke up. I feel more pressure to have the best time ever when it’s sunny.

Perhaps it’s something to do with a fear of failure, because there are indeed many delicious opportunities for failure on a birthday.

No one will remember?

No presents or cards?

Sadness could permeate the day?

Balloons will pop, the cake could sink and I could find something slightly annoying which means I say something irretrievable that annihilates the chance of anybody wanting to celebrate the day I came into this world.

I’ve never thrown a party for myself, no one has ever thrown a party for me. That’s a failure, surely?

I just don’t have the patience required to endure friendships that are simply fine.

Therefore, my theoretical birthday party would be small, and I don’t want to submit my small pool of loyal friends to an awkward evening – awkward because I’ve intentionally kept my friends very separate.

I do not have a friendship group.

I do not have a best friend.

As I get older, I feel less shame admitting this. I don’t like parties anyway! I much prefer being with one person in a pleasant room (with some low volume Lana Del Rey in the background) oversharing as if my life depended on it.

In fact, as I get older, I care less about getting older. I’m 39 now which is an OAP in the acting industry. I will be going up for the same roles as Helen Mirren soon!

but I care a little less about that part of my life now – adopting the what will be will be attitude I always wanted but could never really commit to because I love control.

The sun stayed hidden throughout the morning, which I appreciated.

I put no pressure on the day.

I just wanted to drop the kids at school and then go for a nice dog walk with A and my lovely little boy AKA “the nursery refuser”. We walked through the woods and I pointed out a rat and a blue tit and our dog ran free and slowly, the sun started to come out as I held his little hand and we talked about trolls.

After the walk, we went to a pet shop to get special insect food for the dog and my son played with a little mechanical mouse meant for kittens. I looked at dog treats that were plaited and braided and looked like hair, took some funny photos. We got our dog, Pinter, his first ID tag for his collar. As it was my birthday, I was allowed to pick which one. There was one with mountains and stars on, a Pride flag, a bubble tea, a big bone.

I chose a desert one, with a cactus and eagle. I don’t know why.

On the drive home, I let my son sleep, even though it would absolutely fuck up the evening. I enjoyed him sleeping because it reminded me of when he was a baby, and part of me still longs to still have a baby on me at all times.

The sun was shining now.

We drove through the countryside back towards where we live and I thought how incredible to see so much green when my landscape used to be 100% concrete with one or two dying trees – we lived in the middle of a city for so long I forgot how breath taking, how dazzling and rejuvenating an open field can be…..

As I entered my 39th year, last May, I guess I was depressed.

I was scared about moving to Liverpool and leaving everything that I knew – as well as leaving my family, my place of birth and the place I’ve always romanticised: London. My career had absolutely plateaued; I was fumbling about with my hair content and feeling embarrassed that that was how I had to make a living now. We were living in such cramped conditions because we had failed – we did not have the money to live in London, to live with space, or even just to live well. We were stressed all the time. Our ambition had to contort to fit with our reduced habitat and time.

As the year went on, I relaxed little by little. We moved, successfully, in that all our belongings had made their way safely to our house. We have a desk each, where hopefully we will both create again. We have a kitchen with space for a table and the kids have their own beds (though they don’t all sleep in them) and we have a small garden where they can shout and find ants and annoy neighbours by throwing endless balls over the wall.

Month by month, my world opened up again and I got stronger and more positive, leading me to make decisions I never thought I’d have the courage to make (like getting a giant boob job from the first surgeon I met and purchasing giant puppy of a random man in Wales). These big decisions have been very freeing and life-affirming.

So I feel ready to embark on my 40th year, with the hope that I’ll find a way of making the work that I want to, even if that takes longer and pays less than I’d like.

I will seek out the sun rather than being glad it’s cloudy and dull and I will not quit! I will not quit on myself. Or this Substack.

thanks for reading xox

LONDON EVENTS:

3RD JUNE - MOTHERSL_TS LIVE CIRCLE

6TH JUNE - IN CONVERSATION WITH HANNAH MURRAY