On Forty

I remember, as clearly as if it were yesterday (not 30 years ago), when my dad turned 40. We had a surprise party for him and decorated the house with black balloons and "Over the Hill" paraphernalia. We teased him relentlessly on being old.

And here I am, at my second day of being 40. 

Is 40 old? Its funny what I thought back then and how differently I think now. 

40 isn't old. I don't even think the 70 that my dad is turning this year is old. 

Fortunately, celebrating my birthday this year did not take the same morbid turn of my dad's 40th birthday. Perhaps that is because I almost didn't get the chance to be this old. Or possibly, it is that (and happily so) the trend in celebrating 40 as "Over the Hill" is something that disappeared with the '80s. And maybe, we all just need to get a little older to realize how 40 isn't old at all. 

In any case, my birthday has been full of celebration. In fact, it seems that instead of celebrating just my birth-day, I've been able to celebrate my entire birth-month.  At the end of the month, I even get to celebrate with some dear childhood friends of mine who are also turning 40 in the coming weeks. I am so lucky. I cannot, however, eat any more cake! And I love cake, so you know I must be on serious overload for me to refuse more. 

I mentioned last year when I turned 39 that I wanted to just skip ahead to 40, that I hate to say good-bye to a period of time, and instead prefer to say hello to a new chapter. I will miss my 30s, but I do not look back at any of it with regret. I do not shut this chapter with sadness in my heart. I am thankful for all I have learned and for who I have become along the way. And, I am thrilled to be embarking on this new decade of my life. 

I have an amazing life filled with friends, family, meaningful work, experiencing all that life has to offer, and allowing my children to do the same.  I am filled with gratitude for this life I have. And, I am so grateful for all the people who make this life of mine meaningful. 

So, I am opening my arms wide to my 40s. I will jump at every chance to experience the wonder of all that surrounds me and to seek out that which is hidden. I cannot wait to see what this new decade has in store. 

This 40-year-old is not getting old - I'm just getting better.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

On The Hardest Thing Ever

This is hard. I mean really really hard. I am not generally afraid to do hard things. In fact, I've done a lot of really hard things, Hard makes me stronger. Hard builds my character. Hard allows me to understand others. So hard, isn't something that bothers me - at least when it's something hard for myself. It's a different story when the hard thing has to do with my child.  I am not totally sure why I am writing about this. Maybe it is partially because I currently cannot think of anything else and maybe, if I write it down, it will free my brain and give it some release. Or, perhaps it is a little bit because I know I can't be the only parent who has ever dealt with this, and so my sharing might help someone else.  The stigma of mental illness looms heavily. I find it absurd that we, as a culture, can completely accept someone having a physical illness, yet cannot fathom accepting the illnesses we cannot see. So many individuals suffering from mental il
Read more

On Love and Loss

Image
"I used to think time was a thief. But you give before you take. Time is a gift. Every minute. Every second." - Alice Kingsleigh, Through the Looking Glass I think love is a lot like time.   Love is joy. It is happiness and light. It is gratitude and wonder. It is warmth and hope. It is living. And, love is pain. It is sorrow and darkness. It is fear and anger. It is cold and sad. It is death. Love is such that you cannot have one without the other - two sides of the same coin.  Although I know my NanNan, is finally at peace and I am grateful that she is no longer suffering, there is still a hole in my heart. The hole is there because of the love. It is there because of the forty years of memories I made with her presence. It is there because I loved her and because she loved me. Love is joy and love is pain.  Despite the sorrow I now feel, I will not give back the happy memories: of standing by her sink in a Bugs Bunny costume, stealing the carr
Read more

On The Family I Picked

When I was 15 months old, I was given a powerful message: blood relation is not the only family that matters. When I was 15 months old, my dad picked me (and my mom). Technically that makes him my step-father, but he is my dad through and through. He wasn't the only one who picked me and became my family, though. His parents became my grandparents; his brothers and sisters became my uncles and aunts. Never once have I ever felt anything other than a great sense of belonging. I am theirs and they are mine. So, it has been with this message, deep in my heart and on the surface of all that I do, that I journey through life picking people to add to my family. It is with this message, that I hope to provide my children a roadmap to forming their own families.  And what an amazing family I have - it is wide-spread; it is diverse; it is filled with love.  This family of mine has loved and supported me in my darkest times and in my happiest of moments. I am secure in th
Read more