Sue: Week 2. Birthday, Russian Cruise

I was not quite sure whether I was celebrating or mourning the end of the end of my thirties.  Either way, this was the night before the “big one” and I was reluctant for it to end, denial was my first step towards acceptance of my inevitable lot.

Stretching out my last evening proved easy, we were on the cusp of Russian white nights, when the sun never goes down. There was little to distinguish the night of perpetual dusk as it blended into dawn.  Simultaneously, the ship slowed to break her way through ice floes, compounding my sense of a suspension of time and motion. Fellow passengers, for different reasons, took delight in this new world.  I was not alone in my wish for time to stop. We viewed vast expanses of ash and pine that ended at the edge of the frozen water.  The forest backdrop, white light and smoke from the scattered wooden cabins, combined to create a filter of clouds and mist, adding to our sense of being spectators of an ethereal otherworld.  

Inside the ship, all was warm, bright and luxurious; sundowners legitimately flowed into the early hours, above or below deck. Whilst temporary, this was our “home”, a cocooned world that indulged our every whim and which we inhabited with ease although it was as far from our everyday reality as the scenery outside. As time went by, the remaining hard core took turns to select singles from the jukebox in the bar, indulge in some bad dancing and bond further over rather too many drinks.

I staggered back to my cabin in the early hours, fuzzily happy and no longer worrying about the impending birthday milestone.

Perhaps I should have paid more attention to the accompanying sounds of cracks in the ice.

I awoke to the anticipated realisation that this was my 40^th birthday and the start of my new identity as “middle-aged”.  As I lay in bed in the darkened cabin, it felt like any other day. I mentally checked for signs of a mid life crisis. Verdict, a slight hangover, no sense of lost youth or impending death; no immediate urges to re-evaluate my life, change habits, get fit, resign, or buy a sports car. Feeling somewhat smug, I shifted my thoughts to the day’s itinerary, present opening and the champagne the Captain had promised for anyone with a birthday or anniversary. Eager to get up and enjoy my day, I reached for the bedside light.  My day changed with that flick of a switch.

The light stabbed a million sharp shards of hot glass into my eye, whilst simultaneously providing a knock out punch that throbbed around my head. This was more than a slight hangover. I shut my eyes but the light did not seem to lessen and the acute pain persisted. Whilst groping towards the light switch to shut out the pain, the mental light switch came on; I knew what I was experiencing.

The last time this happened, was during a period of my life that I subsequently tried to erase.