DND

I will no longer be taking care of business, instead I am putting my business first.

Case in point: I changed my bedding this morning and climbed straight back into bed. 11:02 and with sun pouring in as if to reward me. Crisp white linen sheets, windows wide open, light breeze casting a cool balm on heated skin, body horizontal in defiance of productivity culture. If this is slightly scandalous, I am here for it. Unfiltered. Unbothered. Completely undone.

Why should I be perturbed by crusty eyes and morning breath? Or varicose veins and cottage cheese thighs? Isn’t cottage cheese the new fad anyway? So, who would not want to nibble on those if it is good for you?

Seriously, ‘unserious’ is my new motto.

I have retired from ‘put together’. I am now devoted to ‘unravelling’, and beautifully so’. The psyche liberated. The mind aired out like dirty laundry, now refreshed. The body is allowed to rest, twisted limbs on raised pillows at midday.

I am giving my soul the wheel. This girl is vigilant. She prays. She listens. She connects to the crashing waves, the irate drivers and the way light lands on the kitchen counter at four in the afternoon. She watches the drama and the demons, fear, fancy and good old fashioned fuckery, with the detached amusement of someone who has seen it all before. Imagine being sixty and the soul just lamming and lolling, watching the craziness and the chaos, the striving and the driving forward, all the while knowing you came here whole, you have already arrived.’

‘Girl, chill.’

So, I do.

I let my hair down. And up. And sideways. I unknot the invisible knots that nest in my shoulder blades, the ones tied to approval, to duty, to relevance, to image. I dissolve the choreography of ego, that exhausting dance for applause.

Conventions are mere suggestions and rules are negotiable.
Misbehaving? Optional.
Playing nice? Mood dependent.

I choose short shorts for the house, dimpled thighs be damned, and abayas for the streets. I eat bread with thick butter because I listen to my body and she is screaming for carbs and sustenance. I sit in silence and laugh out loud in equal measure. I pray fervently, love boldly and stake my claim to this one extraordinarily beautiful, chaotic life.

Why would I not?
Why sacrifice yourself at the altar of others when you have been given this blessing?

There is something delicious about ageing into irreverence. When you are young, rebellion is noisy. At sixty, it is quiet and unassuming. It is staying in bed at eleven in the morning. It is an unkempt day in shorts and a T. If you cannot be yourself when you are alone, if you cannot enjoy the sight and feel of your body, do you even love yourself? Are you even grateful for this most epic adventure?

It is time. I am forgiving every version of me that tried too hard.

You are doing great, girlfriend. You can let all the nonsense go.

The world may continue driving forward, but I have parked myself on warm sand at the beach and am randomly waving at seagulls and strangers.

I have already arrived.
So have you.

I am already whole and enough.
So are you.

And from where I’m sitting, ‘oh my darlings, the view is exquisite.’