Reflections on Approaching 40
It sounds cliche, but turns out it’s true: it’s never too late to do what we love!
I’m not ashamed to admit that I was one of those highly sensitive kids who truly thought they wouldn’t live to see the ripe old age of 21, so to be looking forward to celebrating my 40th birthday in May feels pretty damn good. While I love my younger self now, and even understand why she assumed we’d experience (or maybe even hoped for) an early death, I’m grateful that I’ve managed to stick around as long as I have, and that I’ve been able to create a life I’m truly proud of. It took a couple of close calls, profound near death experiences, and an awful divorce to get me here, but I’m here. I’m alive. And I’m HAPPY.
Deeply personal post ahead, so if you’re just here for the writing/bookish content, skip this one. But if you want to know more about me as a human being, stick around.
My early twenties was a turbulent time. I lost my best friend when he died suddenly, and I never really dealt with it until much, much later. I already had a lot of other things going on and was beyond capacity. I threw myself into anything and everything that I thought might help, eventually landing on religion and marriage. Long story short: I entered into a 15-year-long marriage with an older man that turned out to be a complete denial of myself. I was desperate for structure and stability, and my ex husband and our churches offered that. Of course, they also provided control, abuse, and the reinforcement of my self-abandonment. But I’ve reached a place in my healing that I can clearly see the ways I participated in my own oppression, convincing myself it was good, right, and true.
It’s been hard to admit that they couldn’t have controlled my life the way that they did if I hadn’t been actively handing over that power the entire time. This isn’t a victim-blaming situation here, either, to be clear. Life just isn’t so black and white. It’s possible to have been harmed (and to have deserved better) and to acknowledge that I played a role in perpetuating those unhealthy cycles from a place of my own unhealed trauma. Both of those realities were true for me.
Although many people now have suggested that my life would have been better if I’d never gotten married, I disagree. I don’t believe it was all bad, and I have three incredible children from that union. My ex husband isn’t a monster any more than religion on the whole is; they’re just flawed and ultimately not good for me. Having lived many lives during this lifetime so far, I don’t regret much, and that includes my marriage and eventual divorce. They taught me so much about myself and about life… I’m not sure I’d be able to be how I am now without going through that refining process and being forced to really examine myself and what I need. I’ve only been officially divorced since September 2023, but we were separated for years before that, and actively breaking apart since around 2017. That’s given me 6+ years of therapy and time to process, heal, learn, and grow.
Which brings me to now! I turn 40 years old in May, and I’m THRILLED by the whole notion. I’m not one of those people who smooths out wrinkles with creams and serums. I’m not dyeing my hair to banish the white that’s finally surfacing (in fact, I welcome it and wish my frosty mane would come more quickly). Aging is a gift I never quite believed I’d receive, so I’m not about to buy into the belief that it’s a bad thing that needs to be avoided or reversed. I am embracing it.
I ended my 30’s with a divorce, and I’m starting my 40’s with a life that I’m creating, exactly how I want it to be. I have wonderful friends and family. I have my beautiful children and our needy but ridiculously cute dog. I have plants and rocks and books and music. I have physical health in greater measure than I have since 2015. I have an abundance of creative energy and the time, ability, and resources to be able to pursue those passions. I have my own spirituality that is soul-nurturing and inspires me to show endless care and compassion not only to myself but to the people around me and to the world herself. I live surrounded by, and soaked to the bones in, love… the kind of love that brings life and connection in ways I’d never been able to experience until my late 30’s.
“They” say life really begins at 40—that something happens to make people stop caring so much what others think—and I can certainly say that’s been true for me. I’m not quite 40 yet; I’ve got a few months to go. But, I feel so very ME for the first time in my entire life, and I’ve never been so happy in the present moment. If I could show my younger self where we are now, I doubt she’d even believe me.
That’s why I don’t fear rejection. It’s why I don’t find myself lamenting the struggles of life as a writer… I mean, honestly, what struggles? Compared to other things I’ve experienced, none of the hiccups in my writing journey have even really registered. I just look at it, see what I can learn from it (if anything), and move forward. Perhaps that perspective is one of the great gifts of aging.
When I decided to return to writing in 2022 it was head-first and all-in. I’ve dreamed of being a writer since childhood but never considered it a reasonable path to take. And maybe it isn’t reasonable. But I no longer stay within the confines of reasonable these days. I’ve given the typical “ideal” life a go, and I did pretty well at it by all objective standards…. until I realized I was dying more and more every single day in order to keep that life. Because it wasn’t for me. Once I’d seen the truth of that, there was no going back.
So, as 40 approaches I’m going forward… to whatever this incredible life has for me next! All I know is I’m ready for it, and I’m predicting there will be lots of writing involved.
