For my birthday the kids and David got me a toy car. It was a cool car. A cooler person, would know exactly what make and model it was, but I just watch Top Gear for the writing. So the toy car was a bit odd until I realised its full metal body housed a gift voucher from Red Balloon Days (yes I’m a huge fan). The voucher was to drive a V8 super car around Eastern Creek raceway in Sydney and be driven around the track by a racecar driver. The latter was exciting, the former absolutely terrifying. So my reaction at first was not what David had hoped. I mean, what husband really wants his wife to be intimidated by a gift?
But raceday was still 2 months away.. 2 months of silently stressing over how I would get through it. Being on show, being judged, being clumsy, being mistake after mistake. Being not good enough or not fast enough or not careful enough. All bizarre thoughts to have but the overwhelming one was a fear of not being. Not being really there.
Wow what a weight! And a wait.
So this weekend was the big day and you know I dreamt I had already done it. I dreamed I was actually 80 and I was having a big party. Someone stood up in front of everyone, my kids, my grandkids, my friends and all of their offspring too and said nice things but not real things. So I stood up (walking frame assisted), and I yelled, “hey, you don’t know the stuff I’ve done all you are is all the stuff I haven’t”. It made sense in my dream but somehow reads weirdly in the cold click of day.
Anyway I woke up and started to think about all the things I have done.
I’ve been to Disneyland and gone on Space Mountain mulitple times even though I was only 5. Why? Because I wanted to and my Dad was no wuss.
I’ve been whitewater rafting on the Nymbodia River near Coffs and the Trusili River in Nepal.
I’ve looked across the valley to Mt Everest having walked there from Lukla on these fat strong legs.
I’ve ridden on the back of a Harley.
I’ve sung in Eisteddfords, published poetry and entered creative competitions that I never had a hope of winning.
I’ve jumped out of a perfectly good plane with a man and a parachute attached to my back.
I’ve taken my friends out on a catamaran on Sydney Harbour for fun, for the hell of it, to show myself that I am still alive.
I’ve gone gliding – gift from Optus coworkers.
I’ve stripped off and had a hot stone massage behind a waterfall on a tropical island.
I’ve travelled to London, Paris, Rome, Prague, Copenhagen, Almhult, Shanghai, Geneva, Fiji and other places too.
I’ve swum with dolphins and seen dugongs from the bow of another catamaran in Monkey Mia
So all this stuff I’ve done, none of it was or is perfect. And it wasn’t some better version of myself that did these things. It was just this uneven skin and blubbered form, the addled brain and disproportionate disposition. It was the selfish, confused, introverted, extroverted, optimistic me. How can I reconcile any of this? I don’t know how.
But I can add to the list, that I have now driven a V8 super car at about 190kph with the windows down – because that’s how I wanted it. And for the record – it was awesome :)