Forty-one

That's me today: forty-one. If you've been reading faithfully for some time, you might remember I had a really hard time turning forty last year. I also had a hard time turning thirty-nine the year before. But this year--this year forty-one doesn't feel so bad. Friends told me last year that turning that milestone birthday would feel difficult, but that the years after that wouldn't feel as bad--they'd settle around me, one friend advised me, like a soft, familiar pair of pants--the pair you love to change into after a long day at work. One friend told me that her forties have been her best years yet. She feels at peace with herself, settled, happy to be who she is at this point in her life. Another friend told me that her forties have been her wisest decade yet. Humph, I grouched skeptically to myself when they told me all this. Turning a milestone birthday is kind of like being born: you are dragged, crying and thrashing, across the threshold into a new decade but then you settle into who you are, where you are, what you have around you. You test out your voice, your muscles, your new legs, you take stock, you appreciate the moment, you wrap yourself in the here and now. I know too many people who are still trying to define themselves, custom-make an image. They chase smoke dreams, and illusions of who they wish they really were. They shake off their pasts, cut out the people who matter, throw their hands up to ward away each coming birthday, wear clothes that are too young for them, turn their backs on where they came from, and where they are going. In many ways my life at this moment, on this first day of forty-one, is filled with more challenges than it was last year, at forty, or the year before, or ten years before, even, but it's also more wonderful in many ways, too. I still worry (maybe too much) about my kids, and about the future; there are too many moments filled with too much uncertainty and dark corners; sometimes I cry because the worries get to be too much. I'm still spread too thin most days, and I still can't find as much time as I want and need for myself, and for the things I want to work on. But all of that is a part of being alive in the ways that count, no matter what age you are, or what age you want to be; it's a part of having people to love, and people who love you back. As I've approached this new year, I've thought more about the things I do know: I know more about love and commitment now than I ever did; more about what I think are the important things in life. I know that life doesn't get any easier as you grow older, but that you get stronger, and more capable of navigating the twists and turns. I know I do laugh more. I know that now, at this moment, my first day of forty-one, I do have a sense of peace about myself. Forty-one feels good, it is like an old, familiar pair of pants, I do feel better about myself--more capable, more interesting, more settled, content with my self-image--maybe a year older, but a year wiser, for certain.
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