Birthdays

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash ** It was my birthday the other day, and in keeping with what is becoming a tradition of sorts, I spent the morning wading through a flurry of WhatsApp and text messages before a fairly lengthy video call with the niece who I almost share a birthday with. The rest of the day was spent off-grid, which has become one of the more enjoyable parts of the day. I don’t remember when the need to unplug on the day first came to the fore but I am finding that in the aftermath of all of that mental stimulation, some downtime is helpful. As I have reflected on here before, the five weeks between the 8th of July and the 15th of August tend to be emotionally draining ones. Dealing with a move - which is quite frankly a culture shock of sorts - has only added to that this year. ...

The year I turned thirty, I was a student battling to put finishing touches to my master’s degree dissertation and pondering what the future had in store for me. That the success or failure of that year, and the year before that, came down to that singular task was the result of an unanticipated turn of events which turned what was a leave of absence to return to full-time study into having to leave my Nigerian job. Grad school, my response to the year before that, had made sense in my head largely because it seemed a low risk, given there was a reasonably high likelihood of returning. I, as it would turn out was ultimately mistaken. ...

Months ago - when it became apparent that my birthday this year would fall on a work day - I made a mental note to take the day off. The act of making that official - signing into the absence management software we use at work and requesting the day off - never happened, which was how I ended up stuck behind my desk at work on the day. That the only slot for a meeting I had been trying to set up for months opened up on the day, the Friday before, didn’t help either. ...

\https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=videoseries?list=PLYbuHzHoxFuCf8ksItOz6ZdGAL_L8PR1W&w=800&h=315\ The continuum: loss, numbness, turmoil, (self induced) heartbreak, surrender and (finally) finding a peace of sorts.. Here’s to Beginning, Again… The Playlist Mad World - Gary Joules Wish - Lighthouse Family This Too Shall Pass - Yolanda Adams Shadowfeet - Brooke Fraser Father Me - Rick & Cathy Riso Read All About It - Emeli Sande Airplanes - B.O.B Love Alone Is Worth The Fight - Switchfoot Volcano - Rapture Ruckus & Jonathan Thulin Redemption Days - Josh Ojo Something New - Axwell Ingrosso Shake - MercyMe

Turning thirty-five could not have come at a less opportune moment - given the summer of loss that we have had. The silver lining though is that it offers an opportunity to pause, take stock and ask oneself what the focus for the next few years should be. My life plan has come together in bits and bobs over the last few years - three life goals, seven priorities and five core values, a tad incoherent if the truth must be told. ...

I suppose there are worse ways to spend your birthday than being stuck behind a desk, being one of two members of the team available from a full complement of five, praying and hoping no emergency pops up requiring you to suit up and go offshore at short notice. Thankfully that, getting sent offshore, didn’t happen; and I had the pleasure of spending Friday away from work, catching up with myself… ...

To the Year of Living Intentionally, or dangerously… Between standing on the cusp of the 34th birthday, and getting a diagnosis of borderline LVH, I have come very close to freaking out more than a few times over the last few weeks. More so perhaps because in stumbling on an early copy of the 5 year plan - written back in the day when I was an excitable 26 year old with the dream job and the dream girl, and all the important people in my life the small matter of a six hour road trip away - just how far off target in quite a few categories I still am was made very clear. ...

In what must be a first for me, I get invited to a birthday party over WhatsApp. Truth be told, there were mitigating circumstances. Although the parent in question and I have some tenuous familial connection - my grand father and her grand mother somehow managed to get entangled in the far distant haze that is a few generations ago - she and I haven’t stayed much in touch, in spite of us living the the small matter of the length of Union Street apart. I suppose the invitation was one last hopeful punt in my direction. If it was, it worked, the twin attractions of something to do on a Saturday afternoon and proper Nigerian food proving too strong for even I the quintessential recluse. Izzy, the kid in question had just turned One, and her parents keen to celebrate the milestone were putting together a small get together for the guys; for that I was very much a willing eater. ...

I have died- Seven times but one; Crushed beneath the weight- Of pain’s unrelenting Hammer blows. Straight right. Left hook. Right uppercut. Left jab. Right hook. Left uppercut. Cheek bones splintered- Lip leaking blood, Teeth- Bludgeoned until loose. Head spinning. Time, space Distance blending- Into a confused blur. Then over-hand right - And sight mercifully fades- Into blissful blackness. I have died– Seven times but one; But like a rubber ball Squashed flat against a hard place, I rebound seven times, Reborn.

Given our propensity to moan about the little corner of the North East where we currently live, it is somewhat strange that I, and the four or so long term friends I have here, do not make time out to meet up more often. In fairness to my friend O, it is not for want of his trying; several attempts to organise a meet up have floundered, torpedoed by our wildly varying schedules and travel plans. ...