39 candles, one existential crisis, and a soundtrack by Steve Harris.
This is a personal blog, after all, so—here's something personal. It's my birthday. I'm turning 39. A truly cursed number. Honestly? I don’t feel like celebrating.
I haven’t properly celebrated my birthday in years. If I can help it, I prefer to be out of town, off-grid, and out of range for the whole ordeal. I hate the fuss, I hate being the birthday girl, and yet—it still stings when certain people forget. Welcome to my twisted little mind: now with bonus social anxiety sprinkles.
Annual Reflections, Brought to You by Anxiety
Birthdays make me squirm. So does New Year’s Eve. Anything that demands “life reflection” can sod off. It's the annual prompt to audit my existence — what’s happened, what hasn’t, what still feels wildly out of reach.
There’s a lot I’m not thrilled about. I’m still trying to get back to the figure I had twenty years ago (or delusionally better). I’ve argued with family more than I’d like to admit. I’m not exactly winning awards for “Most Present Mother/Wife/Friend/Human.” And underneath it all: insecurity, inadequacy, the usual suspects.
Sweatpants, Maiden, and a Shift in Perspective
But right now, I’m sitting on the carpet in my sweatpants and a battered Iron Maiden shirt, headphones on, listening to Fear of the Dark—and I realise there’s also a lot I’m grateful for. And maybe, just this once, that’s worth focusing on.
The last two years have been a full-blown emotional rollercoaster, the kind that leaves you dizzy and weirdly energised. Ever since I started this metal blog, my life’s been shifting—and I honestly don’t even know where to begin.
Metal as Therapy. Metal as Compass.
For one: the music. So much music. I’ve listened to more bands in the past couple years than I did in the entire decade before. I’ve discovered musicians who now soundtrack my mornings, my spirals, my quiet late-night writing sessions. The sheer abundance of good, achingly beautiful music out there? Overwhelming. And I get to discover more of it every day. That’s a gift.
And with that musical deep dive came a subtle personality shift. It started with a few band shirts and spiralled from there. I wouldn’t say I’m suddenly confident—let’s not get carried away—but I’ve reclaimed some of the old, rebellious, weird-in-a-good-way energy I’d lost along the way.
Still Weird. Still Not Boring.
I still feel like an alien among the other mums. I still don’t quite fit in with the “normal” people. But weirdly—I like who I’ve become. I’ve never really been like other people—and now I’m finally leaning into it. And the best part? I’ve met some other glorious weirdos on the way. You know who you are.
I got the chance to write for a heavy metal magazine. That opened the door to concert photography, meeting artists, and diving headfirst into creative projects that don’t pay the bills—but absolutely feed the soul. I was drifting for years. Now? Metal gave me a map.
It’s not too late to learn. It’s not too late to start something new. And I’m not ready to be old and boring just yet. Stay tuned. There’s more to come.