I’m Tracey, im 48 years old, I live with my long-term partner, also affectionately known as ‘Pat the Twat’. I also have two grown-up daughters, Lauren 25 and Danielle 30.
At the beginning of the year, I think I had a mid-life crisis! well started to ‘Have a word wi me-sen‘. I’ve lived a very varied life (will share more about me as we go on in the blogs) some of it was horrific, embarrassing, exciting, rewarding some of it has been brilliant!
As well as dealing with my own addiction in my early twenties, in my thirties I found myself caring, supporting and losing my ‘Bad Ass’ dad to alcoholism.
During this time, when I couldn’t sleep, so rather than toss and turn in bed, I’d get me sen up, go downstairs, open my A4 notebook and write down all the shit that was keeping me awake. (Its fair to say there is a lot of shit in those books)
I’ve always wanted to write, but to be quite Frank ‘Im not the best at English, my grammar is crap, I like to swear, and I don’t know what im writing about most of the time’ but this writing malarkey is like a fucking itch that won’t go away. Before dad passed, many a time people have said ‘you could/should write a book’, writing a book sounds ‘Fucking brilliant doesn’t it?’.
‘Of course, it sounds brilliant’ I’ve even started writing the book (three un-edited chapters) I have the title for the book and everything! what you don’t know is I started writing the fucking thing over 12 years ago!
So, back to the mid-life crisis. don’t asked me where it came from? but I started to have some rather depressing thoughts, I’m like thinking about the fact ‘I’m 50 in two years’ thats three quarters into my life!
Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t feel physically old, I’m fit (I swapped the fags for my trusty E-cig two years ago) I like running (well a gentle jog) but the bottom line is whilst my body is showing signs of ageing and I’ve come to accept that the ‘bastard cellulite’ aint going any where any time soon! there is still life in the ‘Old Bitch’ . I’ve been procastinating about actually doing something for years with this writing, I remind myself constently ‘when are you going to do summit?’ For my 40th I even had a tatoo saying ‘Procrastination is the thief it time’ as a reminder, and here I am eight years later, still doing the same as I have always done ‘fucking procrastinating about procrastinating’
I visulised myself being present at my fiftieth birthday party, celebrating a GREAT life, but secretly thinking to myself ‘your all gob!, you still haven’t done anything, about that book, what a fucking waste’
Bottom line is ‘I aint getting any younger’ so I have three options, I can either
- Shut up – stop moaning
- Put up – accept it
- Or do fucking something about it
So, guys heres my attempt of blogging trying to make sense of my 48 years in preparation for me 50th and also to help get me writing that ‘Bastard book’
Wish me luck, love Tracey
1st June 2018