Where Did My Spark Go?

So… Here’s the thing. I used to get so excited about stuff. Like, butterflies-in-the-tummy, can’t-sleep-for-days, full-on giddy excited. Didn’t matter if it was something big, like buying a house or something small, like finding the perfect pair of shoes in a sale. If there was a reason to be excited, I was in. Buzzing. Practically vibrating with anticipation.

And now? Nothing. Nada. Flatline. Unless you count the 3am bladder wake-up calls courtesy of my menopausal body – in which case, I am very much awake, but definitely not excited.

Case in point: We’re picking up my new car this week. A CAR. I love cars. I’m the sort of person who usually gets giddier about a new car than a new handbag. I’ve been known to name them, accessorise them, and yes, maybe even stroke the dashboard when no one’s looking (don’t judge me).

But this time? Meh.

I’m not even that sad to see my old one go, even though we’ve been through a lot together (like that time I left the lights on overnight in Tesco and had to call the recovery service in a panic). And yes, okay, this whole buying process has been a bit of a farce. I lost the V5C (who even does that?), which meant I missed out on selling it privately and had to part-ex it. The dealers have messed me around with delivery times like they’re auditioning for a bad sitcom. One minute it’s Tuesday, then it’s definitely Thursday, then – surprise! they call on Monday saying, “It’s ready now!”

Not helpful, mate. Not helpful at all.

Normally, all of this would have been part of the excitement. I’d have been on Pinterest planning colour-coordinated car kits and buying a fluffy keyring and emergency snacks for the glove box. But I’ve just felt… nothing. My husband’s been more excited than me. My husband, who normally views cars as metal boxes that get you from A to B and smell vaguely of sandwich wrappers. He’s giddy. I’m flat.

And that’s what’s bothering me.

Because it’s not just the car. I didn’t get excited about buying our house this time either. Or seeing friends I hadn’t seen in years. Or any of the things that used to light me up like a Christmas tree.

What the hell has gone wrong?

Is it just my age? Am I too knackered? Is there some part of my brain that’s gone into energy-saving mode? Am I emotionally constipated? Have I unknowingly Marie Kondo’d my own joy? And worst of all: do I not feel like I deserve to be excited anymore?

This is the bit that stops me in my tracks. Because I want to feel joy again. I want to be silly and excitable and awake at 2am because I’m thrilled, not because I need to pee and I’ve got a weird hormonal shoulder ache. I want to squeal over my new car and plan matching sunglasses. I want to feel like me again.

I miss that version of myself.

But maybe this is part of life now. Maybe joy isn’t a firework anymore, it’s a quiet flicker. A glow rather than a bang. Maybe I just need a bit of a re-tune. A top-up of oil and a jump-start to get things humming again.

Even petrolheads need a tune-up sometimes, right?

So, I’m going to keep the door open. Maybe joy will sneak back in when I’m not looking. Maybe I’ll find myself grinning for no reason at all again soon. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll cry a bit when I hand over the keys to my old car, and that’ll be the start of it.

Watch this space. And in the meantime, if you see me stroking the dashboard of my new car in the M&S car park, mind your business.

P.S.

Have you ever lost your spark? Did it come back? What helped?
Drop me a message or leave a comment over at Facebook – Mylifeandstyleover40. I’d love to know I’m not the only one who’s been running on emotional fumes lately.

Take care, stay safe.

Becks xo