Cliche alert! The cold dead of night.Posted: February 4, 2011
I woke up last night around 4am, and lay in bed listening to my cat snoring. I think she has a respiratory problem but I digress.
Because then IT happens.
The ‘bad’ thoughts start flooding my brain. All those unspoken fears about dying alone, living alone or worse, never being loved, crowd into my mind. My over-active mind that is now encased in an ever more wrinkled head. I’m like a sentient pre-packed ham.
Today is my ex’s birthday. In my head he’s spending it with the girl he became infatuated with while we were together. It might be true, it might not. What galls me more than his infatuation still, is her youth. Her vile, insulting twenty-something-ness. I can’t compete with that. Why do I even think about it? Not sure.
When I was growing up, a programme called ‘thirtysomething’ was on television. I thought that being older was glamorous, heady and fulfilling. Women seemed strong and independent – especially the one with the red hair and dungarees. I wanted that life.
Well I did my thirties, and now I’m nestled in early forty-something world, I can tell you this: being a grown up is hard and scary. Especially at 4am.
So tonight I will venture out into Hollywood, probably with another friend who’s just been through a break-up. She’s younger – everyone is – but we’ll slap on the make-up, and go make small talk with a room full of annoying, ego-fuelled wannabe directors, producers and actors.
My ex will be somewhere, doing something. Or maybe nothing at all. I will try to push it out of my head.
But suppose I wake up with a start again at 4am tomorrow? What will happen then?