A letter from Sep 06, 2024

Dear 39-year-old me, What a year 38 has been. It seemed to start okay but then you had that hypomanic episode out of the blue after over a decade of relative stability. It felt good, didn't it? The way music rushed through your veins, the way nature reached out to you and filled every fibre of your being with indescribable joy that regularly brought you to tears. And it felt really good when you connected with that guy - you know the one, I know you won't have forgotten him, Tamagotchi. Those intense secret messages that made your heart thud against your ribcage, when they really shouldn't have. His songs filling up your Spotify playlist, him occupying your racing mind. Then your wife found out about him while you were away on that trip, your first solo trip since becoming disabled, and everything came crashing down. While you tried to work through it together, your brother was in a bike accident and nearly died. You thought the 6 hour drive to get there in the middle of the night, thinking he'd be dead by the time you arrived, was the worst day of your life. You weren't prepared for the coming days when several times you were told to say your goodbyes and sat by his bed while he was in a coma, sobbing, "he's my big brother, he's my big brother." There was so much in those few words. He astonished us all with his recovery, and as I type he's in the rehab unit continuing to exceed expectations, despite the brain injury and severely broken body. Then, eventually, perhaps predictably, your marriage broke down (there was a big dynamic shift with Tamagotchi at this point too, and it hurt too much to continue being his second choice). Your wife moved out two days before your birthday. Not wanting to hang in the cold emptiness of your own making, you took yourself away in the van for a night by the sea, just you and the two dogs. Can you remember how peaceful that felt? How it was exactly what you needed. How you sat on the pebble shore with a joint and a beer watching the sun set on 37. Then the next day, the day of your fresh start, you sat with the boot of the van open, On The Road by Jack Kerouac in one hand, coffee in the other, waves lapping the beach on a bright but chilly September day, dogs snoring beside you. It felt right, just right. So I hope that now, at 39, you are reflecting on 38 and seeing many of those 'just right' moments, moments when you felt deeply content. You're not one for feeling content are you? Generally speaking. You live with unrest, dissatisfaction, a little beneath happy, always seeing the grime in the bricks, the flaws in the friends. So I hope between all of that you found some of those big calm sighs, gentle moments, content moments. Remember the guy that bought you the Contigo travel mug? I hope that's been on some adventures with you. I wonder if you've had any adventures with him. It's a complicated situation though isn't it. You really are heading for 40 now. Get planning those 40 meet ups to lead you there, it'll be good for you. With love to my future self, H