Dispatches from the Fury Road: Age

I turn 52 this week and that feels weird.

Then again 51 felt weird. As did 50. 47 was strange, as was 40. The last time I had a birthday that made any sense was when I turned 36. That felt just right. Chock full of life experiences, still room to grow. You’re youth can still be seen in the rearview mirror and middle age is a concept that hasn’t taken root yet.

I guess the subsequent ages I’ve slipped into haven’t totally made sense mainly because I’m not sure what I was expecting. Each time I look in the mirror my age feels like I’ve bought a pair of jeans I really like, but I’ve accidentally gotten them in a size that’s too big for me. I thought being a grown-up would be different.

When I was young, men were men. Thick fingers. Furrowed brows. Weathered necks. They drove cars. Loved footy. Smoked cigarettes. Liked movies but only the old ones. Watched MASH. Planted vegetables in the backyard. Built extensions to the house. Spat on the ground. Cried when the family dog died, but in private, their red eyes when they exited the bathroom giving them away. You didn’t point it out. That’s not what you’d do to a man back then.

Now men are different. Sometimes for the better. Sometimes much worse. Your mileage will vary.

I’m not sure where I fit in with society. I think that I’m reliable. I’m an evolutionary step emotionally. I also keep to myself, and play my cards close to my chest. When i reveal the cards to anyone, they might be disappointed that it isn’t a Royal Flush, but something closer to Go Fish. I constantly worry that I let people down. I feel lucky to have experienced this particular life, and constantly wonder about what I left on the table. There’s goals I’m aiming for but I find it difficult to express them.

There’s an ideal I’m trying to achieve but it is as ephemeral as a misty rain on a summer’s day. There is a sense of striving that continues to define me. Sometimes to the detriment of other aspects of my life. There is a fear that I won’t be my best in the most important of situations. I love being alone but don’t want to die like that. I have a desire to share everything in my life while keeping some of it locked away, covered in dust, the key nowhere to be found.

Sometimes we let narratives take hold of us in the past and they influence our future. Am I one of these people? Have I started down a road that I can’t veer from anymore? The sun is shining on one side, and on the other it is draped in shadows. Do I dare take an exit without knowing where that road leads?

Why can’t I say what I mean without hiding behind metaphors?

Nothing makes sense.

Hopefully when I check my reflection it will finally fit snugly, and I will fit into that perfect spot in the world.

I doubt that will happen.

Happy birthday to me!

52. Weird!

Justin Hamilton

Surry Hills

16th of September, 2024