My Birthday

I was on Skype to my very dear friend at midnight (my time zone) and she wished me into the 24th year of my life with all of her love and I felt it. We also talked about me going to therapy because you know, my mental health is still a thing even on my birthday.

I woke to some very nice messages from my Aussie people who had been in the day of my birthday a lot longer than I had.

Twitter puts balloons over your timeline when it’s your birthday and this is nice but also very distracting for my eyes when I’m just trying to copy something you know? I’m kind of midway between needing glasses and not so conditions really need to be just right for my eyes to be happy.

Anyway, this is what I was looking for, this is very good. I hope I can write this accurately about my experience when I’m ready:

https://t.co/qg6DBnFeUS

Grooved to this at my desk today, and all this week really:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mP23xos4704

Today, for those of you who didn’t know, was also Ed Balls Day. I started this morning listening to the BBC Women’s Hour podcast with Chetna (GBBO) - they talked about the Baked Alaska-gate and Jenny concluded: ‘other countries are available, but given the choice, I’d always choose Britain’.

This week it could easily look like our political system is a little broken, and very ready to make economic and social inequality much worse. Then social media spends an entire day celebrating that a politician accidentally tweeted their own name and I just feel so much warmth and joy for my home country and the people in it.

Also this because you know, if there’s a day for this song, it’s your birthday:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-TE_Ys4iwM

I like to think your birthday exists as a 24-hour reminder of how loved you are. That’s what it always feels like to me and I only have positive memories of the day. My Timehop tells me that I describe the day as ‘perfect’ every year. As someone whose mental health issues typically demonstrate themselves as a neuroses about no-one liking me, well, I can’t think of a healthier day to have than one where you’re constantly being told that you’re valued and cared for.

This continued all day, I felt it all afternoon and through the evening as I sat around the table with people who have only known me a month and still took it upon themselves to celebrate today with me. I felt it when I got home and the people I live with told me we would celebrate tomorrow too. I am overwhelmingly grateful and I feel lucky to an extent I can barely express. Maybe every year has been like this, maybe I’m just in a better position to be able to properly feel all of that now.

We had ice cream cake at work and then an hour later went out for dinner and there were very few ways that I feel I could have celebrated better or more in-keeping with my way of living my life. I was home by 10 and in bed by midnight and nothing could suit my newly sedate lifestyle better.

I was filled with love all day and all weekend after that. I am always filled with and surrounded by so much love. I am slowly learning to accept that and revel in it. They say if you ignore your critics, you have to ignore the people who praise you too, but that sounds awfully boring and ambivalent to me. So I hear all the love you send me, I see you, I believe you, I love you just as much right back, and I hope you believe me too.

Happy Birthday to me.

On Victoria Wood

She was female. She was funny. She was Northern.

I am at least two of those things (though we hail from different parts of the North), and I take a regular stab at the third.

I have distinct memories of seeing her on TV when I was younger. The repeats of Dinnerladies and her stand-up shows were always on UKTV Gold, which in turn was always on in our house. I watched her and watched my parents laugh at her, a northern female comedian was well-loved by everyone in my family.

This made a difference, to me at least. She sounded like I did and like the women I encountered every day. She was funny and unapologetic about it, just like they were. I never once thought about what she looked like. I didn't give a tiny hoot about whether she was beautiful or she dressed well or her make-up looked nice. To me she was lightning sharp, and intelligent, and obviously very ambitious and dedicated to her craft. I watched her at about the age people started to call me funny, and at that age I cared much more about that than anyone calling me pretty.

The way I felt about her was the way I felt about myself. It was the way I wanted other people to feel about me too, that everything I was would be more important than how I looked and my accent didn't mean I couldn't be successful and respected.

I got a short sharp shock when I realised that both my looks and my accent would be very regularly up for discussion. Victoria Wood was one element of a wonderful, confidence-building childhood which left me completely unprepared to be considered 'ugly' and have my accent ridiculed on the daily later in my life. I lost sight for at least 7 or 8 years of what she had taught me:

That I was worthy of whatever I wanted even if I didn't meet the standards of people who had a very narrow definition of what was 'attractive' and 'appealing'. That it was okay to be unashamedly loud.

I feel that way now, again. Although I had honestly forgotten what a huge part of that feeling she had been until the news of her passing away came through last week. 

She meant that I didn't even comprehend the reasons why people would say women couldn't be funny - because how could this be true when I had seen it so frequently? Not just that, she was funny like the women I knew were funny, the way everyday people can time things so perfectly and not many people can replicate.

Hearing her standing on stages in front of hundreds of people, on TV, adored by everyone, meant I didn't link my non-RP accent to the likelihood of my success - her vowels sounded like my vowels so if she could be successful in the arts, then why couldn't I?

More than any of that, she brought laughter to our house. She made me feel like making people laugh was the most wonderful thing you could do, I'm still convinced that's true.

Thank you Victoria, you will be so very missed.