Tonight my cousin came round. We don’t live far away from one another but life is busy, too busy sometimes, and so we don’t see each other as much as we should. When we do we always end up sharing stories and memories from our childhood – tonight we were reminded of how we always drank Nesquik chocolate milk as a treat when we saw each other.
As adults the drink of choice has changed somewhat and tonight we shared wine and pasta whilst catching up on each other’s lives. We lived together for a few months on and off when he was looking for somewhere to live after getting a job here a few years back. He joked that the reason he stayed for so long was because the wine was always flowing.
Now my alcohol tolerance is much lower. Perhaps it’s the 5:30am wake up call from a 3 year old or maybe it’s an older body which doesn’t take so kindly to being poisoned on a regular basis. I definitely don’t think 10pm is the time for opening another bottle anymore. Now as the clock ticks round to 10pm I am rounding off conversations and declaring the evening to have been “delightful” as I slowly usher guests towards the door.
When did I get so boring?
I don’t think it is boring really but it’s certainly the word that gets thrown about when people start talking like this. Old and boring. Sometimes it’s categorised as maturity; we’re so grown up now that we favour early nights over hangovers. Boring or mature? Perhaps it’s a bit of both.
I used to worry about things like this – the perceptions others might have of me if I wasn’t staying up late, drinking lots, keeping the good times rolling. I used to worry I wasn’t fun anymore or that I’d lost a bit of my identity. Funny that, wanting to be identified as someone who regularly had lie ins to combat hangovers.
I don’t worry about this now – now I’m happy to say I’m going to bed when it suits me to go to bed. Perhaps that is a sign of maturity. I certainly worry less about people’s judgements of my character these days. Some people will like me and some people won’t – that’s okay. I don’t like everyone I meet and I don’t need everyone I meet to like me. As I get older I realise that this is good; I am more comfortable and confident in who I am and what I’m about.
This is true too of this challenge. My confidence in who I am has grown and I have more faith in my own strength and more belief in my own values and opinions. I can’t pinpoint exactly why this has happened. It doesn’t seem on paper to equate – why should spending 30 minutes completing a Zumba workout be the equivalent of feeling a sense of calm about who I am as a person? Somehow taking control of my health and exercise has helped to keep self-doubt at bay.
Sometimes, just when I think I might be turning into a grown up, something reminds me that I’m not quite there yet. Tonight it was when I decided that tomorrow I am definitely going to have a chocolate Nesquik milk before bed.