As a child of the seventies, it was never about me. The grown-ups ruled the roost and there was little interest in understanding the personality of a child or what they enjoyed. This was not unusual, it was just how it was in the seventies. Our parents didn’t put themselves out to accommodate our needs or interests, as parents do today, we just had to work around the adults. When it was time to go to university I was not taken to any open days (were there even any open days?) and was given very little guidance about what to good with my life. The upshot was that I ended up doing a degree that I wasn’t really interested in and not doing very well. But, as I say, this is just the way things were and, at the time, I didn’t feel short-changed.
The point is, that it was never about me. I had a few years of a good career after university, but then the past eighteen years have really been all about my family. The career is a distant memory, discarded in favour of a ‘convenient’ job that would fit around the children. My eldest is about to leave for university and I am suddenly faced with myself, my limited achievements and a gaping void ahead of me. Finally, it is going to be about me, but that terrifies me as I realise that I have no idea what I like, what I am good at or what an earth I am going to do next. I can see that over the next 12 months I am going to be confronted with myself and that is not an appealing prospect. I will either emerge like a phoenix from the flames or shuffle into old age, unremarkable and unnoticed. It is finally about me, whether I like it or not, and I need to find the strength to pursue the phoenix option, even though at the moment I can’t see how I will get there.