I'm almost
forty. Like I can see it on the calender next to upcoming doctor appointments, school reminders and play dates kinda close. I wrote it in red. A cross between empowered, go me!, daring lipstick, kiss my ass red and end of the world, doomsday, blood red. Exciting, daunting,
weird.
I've never once been upset about my age...ok, except that time I turned 22. I was married to and almost divorced from, my high school sweetheart after a whopping two years of marriage. He was unfaithful and the only thing in my life.
Literally. I wrapped up everything into that crazy, insecure bubble and it exploded in my face. My friends were graduating from college and I was working full time, going to school at night and playing Suzy Homemaker to a man that couldn't care much less about me or the institution we entered into. I was miserable, alone and terrified.
Honestly though, aside from that brief time in my life, I've always loved my birthday. I'm a Leo, of course I do. It involves cake, presents, lovingly worded cards from the people that care most for you, parties....what's not to love?? I've always been told I look younger than my age (and I will never claim that doesn't require some work, helllooooo make-up bag!), so that never bothered me (although a few sags, bags and other below-the-clothes issues are currently mocking me). I have absolutely no clue what 40 is
supposed to feel like. Some days I feel 6, others 95 and on my typically awkward ones, 13.
I've been kind of expecting some great epiphany as I approached the big 4-0. I'm not entirely sure what I thought would happen...maybe it's like the mornings of each of Maddie's birthdays I expect some compliant, easy-breezy girl to skip out of her room and, alas, it's the same keep-me-on-my-toes, strong-willed kid schlepping out as yesterday.
I keep thinking I'll magically have it all figured out. I won't even consider locking myself in a closet with a bottle of wine and a gallon of Ben and Jerry's to cry about all my failures and fears or pretend to have a digestive issue get just one entire 10 minutes all to myself with a gossip magazine (I have NO idea who wore what last week, ugh). I'll be organized, have all my weekly meals planned out, exercise every day, refuse to raise my voice. All the laundry will be caught up, I'll make every deadline, be the best wife, mother, sister, daughter and friend. But, alas, the same 39 year old scattered hot mess is schlepping out of my bedroom too.
I read all these blogs and see these put-together women and think, "Isn't 40 the age when it's supposed to all finally come together?". Aren't I supposed to have at least a
few things figured out? Maybe for some but for me, I feel as confused as ever. Maybe more. It's like when I had my first kiss. It was with a girl and the whole thing was weird. She was sweet and had long, beautiful hair and I just knew I loved her. That's what you do when you love each other, no? And then I started to like boys and I figured out why it was so weird. Been kissing boys since 1986. Makes way more sense now. Maybe life will be like realizing I like boys. It eventually just makes sense. I just thought that would happen by now. Sometimes it seems like I'm still kissing girls and wondering why it feels weird.
In the midst of the angst and confusion, the more I thought about it, the more I started to see the proverbial light. Maybe that's the
whole point. Maybe, as younger women, we
think we know it all. We have the illusion of control and power. Maybe now, at "the old of the youth and the youth of the old", as I read somewhere, I am enlightened to the fact that I don't know a whole lot of
anything. And maybe, God please say it's so, that's
ok, how it's supposed to be, even.
Maybe in the confusion and self-doubt, there is growth, the subtle kind that you don't even realize. We wander around in our teens and twenties being somewhat irresponsible, be it with careers, money, over-indulgence, our emotions...then in our 30's, we start to see the destruction those things can lead to and we try to correct the behavior and rectify those mistakes and in our forties, maybe we take all of that information and just.keep.growing., having some hindsight and clarity and still trudging ahead with hope and optimism.
So, in the spirit of said optimism, here is what I DO know as 40 looms:
1. I've accepted who I am, and have the ability to show that without fear of perception. Ok, kind of-ish. I have always cared more than I should what others think of me but what I mean is I can be all the mess I am, just more honestly. I may lose some friends along the way but those who loved me for the facade they wanted me to be, or I wanted them to see are probably best left in the past. My goal is to be me, with all that entails and maintain and relish in those who love me in spite of myself. All my misgivings are packaged with what I love about me, and you have to accept the bad with the good. Or don't. Either way, that's ok now. Not everyone's gonna like or get me. Heck, I don't some days.
2. I realize (and am learning to embrace) my short-comings. I was filled with the arrogance of youth...that I could do it all and knew it all and if not, make people believe I did. Now I'm much more accepting of all that is broken in me and I hope the people in my life can do that too...with me and themselves. Cause we're all broken somewhere, right? At least slightly cracked? If you answered no, we probably aren't friends.
3. I am much more forgiving....both with myself and others. I always joke it's a wonder I'm not an alcoholic or have some addiction or eating disorder...something. I don't joke because I take those things lightly (quite seriously actually) but because of all that dysfunction in my soul tends to lend itself to self-destructive behavior. It's not my own strength or resolve, it's straight-up dumb luck. My need to be liked over-powered my need to self-destruct. Just one issue for another. So, I am more quick to forgive those who have harmed me because I hope they will do the same for me. I often say things, without thinking that although aren't meant to be hurtful, can be misconstrued as intentional and mostly, I assure you, it's verbal diarrhea.
4. I'm growing in my Faith, and it's an important part of who I am. I had a little "religious hiatus" for a while there. Seeing your 4 year old nephew's cancer ravaged body being removed from his home in a body bag after a long suffering battle can make you question a few things. I never had much of a religious upbringing but always sought out a relationship with God. I needed to know someone knew me in my darkest places and loved me anyway. I still question so much of what I hear and see in terms of what evil people do in the name of religion but I have also learned my relationship with God is my own. The Bible gives me the guidelines for my life and it is up to me to do what I know to be His will for me. If I choose not to, I alone will have to answer to Him for it.
5. I've learned to be a much better judge of character. I used to jump in to relationships first and ask questions later...often after I've been hurt by the person...no concept of "red flags", even the ones being waved by the philandering alcoholics. Now I seek out those with similar interests, values, belief systems and a general understanding that I'm weird. I tend to like other weirdos as well. I can't do the "perfect" people. I don't say this out of envy. I can do talented, smart, funny and beautiful people... it's those that like to show the only perfect, Instagram filtered side of their lives and hide what's broken that mystifies and alienates me. Wouldn't the world be an easier place to live if we felt a kinship to one another? It's no surprise we feel so inadequate when media (and often our inner circles) depict nothing but
perfection (whatever THAT means!). Especially women...when did we become such bitches to one another?? When did the "my kid is so much better than yours" or "my house is always this spotless", Or "why yes, my husband DOES buy me flowers every week...yours
doesn't?!" That can't be
real. Or maybe it is and the concept of navigating life so flawlessly is so absolutely foreign to me that it seems insane. Or maybe I am. Duh, tell me something I don't know. Now kindly return me to my straight jacket...
6. My favorite things in the world are the people that live in my house. They are noisy, frustrating, hilarious, wild, silly, loving....every possible emotion and every possible depth of it and despite what that may be at any given moment, it is
awesome. We are a unit and a team. We fuss and argue yet there is always a sense of validation and pure, unadulterated adoration. There is a peace in the rare silence and a feeling of comfort in the frequent chaos. I can say, without hesitation that Garret and these children changed my life in every way...all for the better. I feel a part of something beautiful. That's not to say it's without it's problems and mistakes but it is mine, they are mine, and I am theirs. Our hearts are one. I've never felt less alone or weird as when I cross the threshold of that tiny house. I can have been out in the world feeling lost and insecure and I open that freshly painted yellow door to instant relief and comfort. They give my life meaning and purpose, love me unconditionally and accept me for all I am and I, in turn, want to be the best version of myself for them. If that's not the meaning of true love then I don't know what is.
7. I'm so much more grateful...for just about everything, my people, my health, my very life. I have more urgency to tell the people I adore just why and how much, to thank them for being my person, in whatever capacity. We live in a world of, in my opinion, relational decline. Families sit at dinner and robotically light up their faces with whatever screen is chirping at the moment. I just wanna be with my people...and if I can't be, I'm not opposed to a text or email or a Facebook interaction...I just can't fathom it being the
sole means of communication with anyone I value. Let me look at your face, hug your neck....being grateful to me means making time for my loved ones and expecting the same in return. We don't know how much time we have and apparently, damn it, I'm "mid life" so lemme put down my effing phone and get in the car to actually laugh
with you (cause I have never and will only for the purpose of making this point, LOL electronically).
I don't know if "forty is the new {insert whatever here}" but I do know it's the "new kiss my ass I'm over being too sensitive and taking everything you say so personally cause I'm awesome in my own weird way but will consider what you've said for my own potential personal growth but not cause I give a shit about what you think about me." I bet I don't find that on a bumper sticker.
I suppose it's also time to be an official "grown up" although I'm pretty sure that entails accomplishing something in the course of a day besides everyone in your house still being alive and rewarding yourself with a
bottle glass of wine for being awesome at life.
The simple fact is: life is a blessing. I can stress and freak out about every little stupid thing or I can sit back and say go me!, I've overcome some real stuff and am still smiling and sober. I may be a mess but I'm somebody's mess. It may not always be smooth sailing but I am certain I have everything I need: a modest boat with all the necessary supplies, two adorable deckhands and one super hot Captain.
