The Very Thought of Turning 40 is Kicking Mah Butt
I didn’t have any issues with 30. The jokes came. I laughed at all the “you’re old” cards that were sent my way. I had a new job, a new husband, a new place to live and a new son.
Thirty was a breeze.
I thought 40 would be the same way, but I flipped the calendar to March yesterday and HOLY CRAP. It’s like a truck barreling at me. I’m taking a hard look at my life. There is much I should be grateful for.
BUT
I thought I’d be in a different place. I thought I’d have other accomplishments under my belt. I thought I would have learned more lessons, been more mature, become less sensitive, more self-assured.
Basically, I thought I’d have my shit together by 40.
I know I’m not supposed to compare myself to other people, but it’s hard not to sometimes. Honestly though, it’s the comparison I make against who I thought I would be that hurts the most.
Maybe it’s being adopted. Maybe it was growing up in a family that looked different than most at the time. Maybe it was the strong feminist influence from my beloved aunt. Could be a dad that picked up and walked away one day. Whatever it was (and seriously I’ve had enough counseling to have figured this out by now) I feel like I was supposed to excel at something big–something worthwhile.
I feel like I need to prove that I am worthwhile.
Wow. Those eleven words were really difficult to write.
Well there it is. I’m going to be mulling that one over for a bit.
Luckily, I still have 28 more days to sort this out.
18 comments » | birthdays, complaining, Frustration, growing up, life lesson, TMI