I’m turning 50 next month.
It feels pretty surreal. But it’s way less terrifying to reach the end of my 40s than I thought I would be.
Not that I’m stoked to be the big 5-0, but life is good and a number won’t change that.
Get back to me when I’m turning 60, that could be a very different matter.
I wrote a very depressing blog post back in 2012 about how much I hated being in my 40s. It got published on Mamamia and everything … about the closest as I’ve ever come to being a famous blogger. Well, that and the joy of triceratops sex …
My life has done a total 360 since then. Or should that be a 180? I think it’s a 180. My maths has never been that great.
Anyways, the blog post started by saying:
This should be about how fabulous it is to be 40+.
But it’s not.
I have no fricking idea who I am in my 40s. I am completely, totally lost.
I thought I finally had my shit together in my 30s. I was juggling a successful career with two kids. I was confident. I ran at life like a bull at a gate. There may have been a dance with PND, but I prefer to gloss over it.
The main thing is I had purpose.
Less than a decade later, I am completely rudderless.
I know who I used to be. I have no idea who I am now.
I was also furious that my body was betraying me with its sagging and low energy levels.
And I concluded: “I drink too much, eat too much and whinge too much.”
Well, I still do all those things. And I’d really rather not be getting old and battling rampant perimenopausal hormones. But I’m not lost any more and that makes a big difference.
There are bits of my life that I would like to change – such as spending more than I earn and not having a clue how to parent a teenager – but its mainly wonderful.
The lethargy is gone – I’ve returned to Energizer bunny status, despite a niggling fear that I’m getting arthritis in my chicken injury.
I love swimming in the ocean and sipping cider with DD on the sand and writing about booze for a living and going for walks with friends and so many other things.
Life didn’t turn out the way I expected. I was supposed to be celebrating my 18th wedding anniversary this year and enjoying life as a stay-at-home mum in my nice, almost-paid-off house.
Instead I’m starting over and enjoying the release that comes with relaxing into being me.
I wish I didn’t talk so much … or worry so much … but apart from that I think I’ve turned out OK.
Ironically, I suspect my ex would really like the woman I’ve become. Well, other than my continuing lack of interest in live theatre or reading suitable literature.
But we’d backed ourselves into such a tight corner of anger and stubborness that we couldn’t get out again.
That’s a terrible pity for both our marriage and our family. I will always regret the part I played in creating the distance that grew between us.
But at the same time I feel fortunate to be given a new life and love – they’re like a gift that I get to open over and over again.
Song of the day: INXS “Don’t change”