Now that I am back to writing I thought I would give my fiftieth birthday blog post a go. Not sure how it is going to work since I have been dreading reaching the big five zero (who does not?). There are so many myths associated with turning fifty that one can only think of being terrified of that dreadful day. And now, let’s face it, the day is finally here. It feels so weird though. When I went to bed last night, I was still in my forties. I woke up this morning and those days are gone. As simple as that, a life change that is difficult to understand never mind processing it. As they say, you are as old as you feel. Would it be too cheeky to say I feel like being in my late thirties? Or just in my early forties? Probably, but who cares. The truth is, I do not feel like I have to hide it, I am who I am, I am what I am, I am me.
Why does forty-three plus seven equals me? I was born and raised in Catalonia, where I lived for forty-three years. A childhood between the late seventies and early eighties, great memories, things were very laid back: one could entertain herself with some marbles, Playmobil (I used to spend afternoons and evenings playing with my next-door neighbours) and a bunch of collectable cards, not that girly but I never like dolls that much. My teens with the music of the eighties (music became my hiding place), going to the cinema with my mum and my brother, helping dad with his work, my besties (“Magnis”), busy with my group of friends out and about, school bullying (which was not recognised as such back then, so there were no mechanisms to control or even avoid it, therefore I was left at the mercy of the bullies), writing to keep myself sane, and a great deal of struggles to understand who I was, the odd one. When I was seventeen I spent a summer month down in Cobh, Co. Cork, learning English, and Ireland caught both my soul and my heart, the seed had been sown. Half of my adulthood, between going to the university, spending time with my family, working, caught in a traditional mainly male world, and then getting married, followed by a separation.
After all those years, I was still living with the struggles of trying to figure out who I was: my teenage years together with my marriage had left me with a great deal of unsettled matters, which had led to me not being able to accept who I was. I had lost myself in a maze of low self-esteem, rejection, and guilt for not being as expected. If I looked in the mirror, I was not able to recognise to whom the reflection belong. I felt hopeless, helpless and worthless. What a burden to carry on my shoulders!
On the first of January 2017 I was on the plane flying back to Catalonia from Dublin after spending my Christmas break there all on my own. That day, I made my New Year’s resolution: I was going to move to Ireland! So, twenty-six years later after that unforgettable summer in Cobh, I packed as much as I could in my car and got on the ferry that would take me to the Emerald Isle, leaving everything behind so I could make my dream come true. My partner every now and then, asks me what I was running away from, it was probably myself!
I have been living in Ireland for nearly seven years now, hence the plus seven. Difficult at the beginning, plenty of endeavours, but the key to discover myself. A journey to understand who I am, a pilgrimage to accept the person I had been ignoring for years, a crusade to be proud of who I have become after all. I am who I am and that is all that matters. Ireland has gifted me when a chance to unleash my inner me, to be comfortable in my own skin, to just simply shine. It may sound easy to have achieved this but every now and then, I am reminded of the need to congratulate myself for all the hard work. I am extremely pleased to call the Emerald Isle home, because as I said in one of my previous blogs, home is where the soul finds peace. However, I am still proud to say that I am one of those revel Catalans who still dream of a free Catalan Republic.
I have written far too much about my life’s shenanigans, but I thought it would make sense to explain where I come from and where I am now, happy with me merely being me. Difficult to summarise all of these years in just a few lines, challenging at times to concentrate on the positive outcomes, hard to not to get stuck in a labyrinth of doubts.
It is time though, to focus on my fiftieth, isn’t it? Not sure if there is much more to say, rather than how lucky I am to be able to live my life the way I want, to have finally found my own path to walk and share it with those who want to join in in my adventures, to have the will and boldness to do what I love in spite of the hardships. Not sure if there is much more to say, rather than how grateful I am for having had a chance to discover myself, for having had the strength to carry on despite the madness around me, for having achieved plenty of milestones to on my wall of fame. Not sure if there is much more to say, rather than how happy I am to have been brave to follow my dreams even though when they seemed impossible to accomplish, to have had the determination to never give up even though when I could not see any light at the end of the tunnel, to have risen from the ashes like a phoenix. Thanks to my parents and family for always being there, thanks to all of those who I have crossed paths in a way or another, thanks to my partner for encouraging me to just be me.
I would like to finish this blog post with a toast to myself for being brave to follow my dreams, for being proud of who I have become, for being just me after many years of hiding. Well done me!
Jay Cee Moon ©
Jaycee Moon 