Farewell Forties, My Old Friend

It’s here.

Today closes the last of my forties.

Up to a couple of days ago, I was eagerly awaiting my fifties. I told people all the time how amazing my forties had been, how this decade was easily the best of my life. Sometimes I would feel a pang when I said this, a twinge of guilt that maybe I should have said the decade I became a mother, for instance. But there is really no denying how much my forties brought me comparatively, and as our time together in the present tense comes to a close, I find myself mourning a bit.

The Beginning: 2015

My thirties came to a chaotic and rawly emotional end 10 years ago. My son graduated from high school that spring and vanished, as newly-independent children are wont to do. My ex-husband died suddenly the following month, shortly after our divorce was final. The triple hit of loss was a wracking, deep, howling pain that I will never find words adequate enough to express. My answer to everything was alcohol-based, which led to less sleep, more emotional outbursts, and poor decisions, which was fine as I fully expected to drink until my life ended. It was a wonder that my family and friends didn’t completely abandon me. I certainly wanted to abandon myself, and alcohol was the fastest way to forget the pain.

So it was that I started 40 the way I ended 39: without planning, or much thought for the future. I had recently secured a great one-bedroom loft apartment that was mine alone to decorate, to live in, and to plan for my next steps. The only plan I had was a vague “move from my hometown” thought, something I had spent years telling myself I would do once my son left for college. Where I would move was another question entirely. It felt scary to leave, to start over at such an old age when I had lived in the same town my whole life (listen, this is just how I felt then).

And in the beginning, my forties were even more chaotic than my thirties. I acted impulsively and emotionally with, well, most things. I coasted on vibes. I looked for both fights and quick escapes in every space I occupied.

But one decision I made that was right was the one that led me to Josh, five weeks after my 40th birthday. While it was the absolute wrong time for both of us initially, we just kept choosing one another, over and over again. And that gave me the realization that I had been hoping for someone to bet on me for my entire adult life.

It would take a lot longer for me to realize that the person I really needed to bet on me was me.

The Early Years

In the early years, I had a lot of fun, and didn’t think about much else. Work was a means to an end, and certainly not fulfilling. I was in a much larger community, and felt an incredible freedom to embrace the moment…and then the next one. I was selfish, but also incredibly needy. I was a people pleaser, but also felt resentment every time I put myself last.

Josh and I got married, and kept right on having a great time. I gained two amazing stepsons. My son and his girlfriend moved away for college, but they were making great choices together, and things felt good. After an ugly stint in an industry that was not a good fit for me in any way, I landed a job that was incredibly meaningful to me, one that I was actually good at, and I started to think that I maybe COULD find fulfillment in a career. I expanded my network of friends and colleagues. And…I quit drinking.

The Middle

And then…well, then there was COVID.

COVID shut down the world, but more specifically, it shut down my industry. Work was very scarce. I wrote a lot, I applied for more jobs than I could begin to count, and I kind of went stir-crazy.

The middle is where I landed in a brief MLM phase. I loved to work out, this was a workout and nutrition-based company, I had no job prospects…what could go wrong? The MLM phase brought me a lot of things, but it took away more. I lost a couple of friendships. I embarrassed myself with short-form video sales pitches and messages to acquaintances that were viewed but not answered. It filled the time, and I didn’t lose money, but I spent everything I made trying not to catch hell from the people above me.

The middle also brought me to the final boss level of menopause, which I didn’t understand when I was going through it. I was very grumpy (read: homicidal).

COVID plus MLM plus menopause created a perfect storm, in which I was often not a good partner or stepmother, and I didn’t know why. I can’t speak for everyone, but for me it felt like going through puberty again, and going through puberty at the same time as my stepsons made for some hard times. I was sure I’d never feel cute again. My body was foreign to me. I had this really saggy spare tire. Clothes were the enemy. I was not prepared to re-gain the Freshman 15, and you better believe it’s a whole lot harder to lose in midlife.

I was so much in denial about what was happening in that time frame that I didn’t even realize I was officially in perimenopause until I was two years post-menopause. Ugh. Anyway, that shit’s for the birds.

But the middle also brought me something I had been seeking: the beginning of clarity.

The End

The end of my mid-forties led me to therapy. I had found a job to bridge the gap until I could hopefully get back to the career I had paused until the world opened back up, and that brief nine months brought me to an incredible series of lessons.

That job brought me some amazing people, which led to a recommendation from a co-worker about a great therapist. That foray into therapy led me to realize that I had some real work to do – and that it was time to stop stuffing all of my feelings down and ignoring them.

I put in the work. And god, when I tell you it was painful. I had to allow myself to grieve for the first time, and I had a lot of grieving to do. I started to set boundaries, which led to many uncomfortable conversations, arguments, and even some lost relationships.

Increasing illness led to honesty about my food sensitivities, and some testing. An extreme gluten intolerance had me thinking, my whole life really, that extreme pain and sickness after eating was just “being too full.” Since I pretty much always ate bread in some form, I…pretty much always felt that way after eating. When that pain went away, and my brain fog started to lift, I felt like a different person. which led to a realization, at the age of 46, what being full actually felt like.

I got to go back to my former employer and industry. Josh and I bought a new house that was large enough for our family to have their own spaces. The boys and I made it through puberty. My son and his girlfriend made it official, and I got the amazing gift of a daughter-in-law. And then, as my forties came to a close, I became a grandmother to the most precious baby girl.

The Good

My forties brought me so much good. I wrote, a lot, both for work and for pleasure. I discovered the works and words of Rumi. I came back again to words that had always meant a lot to me, such as Kipling’s If, Andy Weir’s The Egg, and Eulogy from a Physicist. I found a true life partner in Josh, and true life friendships and connections in so many ways with so many people. In my late 40s, I started working to notice the good, and identify it out loud by saying “Good things are always happening to me!” I worked to smile at myself, both in the mirror and internally.

I found a new closeness with my people once I was able to set aside my shame and guilt over past transgressions. Full transparency – I continue to have to set these things aside regularly. It doesn’t just magically get better, you know? And that leads to…

The Bad and The Ugly

I almost didn’t put this in after a lot of thought. I really want to focus on all the good, because there were so many more good parts of this decade than bad. But it’s important to honor the pain as well.

I lost a lot of people in my forties. It becomes inevitable after so much time, right? We all gotta move on, in some form, at some point. Whether it was people I battled cancer alongside in my thirties who eventually lost their own battles, family members who passed, especially beloved people like my incredible father-in-law, grandmother-in-law, or aunts and uncles-in-law, or the pain of realizing that people I considered friends for life didn’t feel the same way, loss was prevalent.

I also saw people I loved continue to age, and that has been so hard, too. While it’s great to have the privilege of aging, I think we all have those moments where we realize that we’re going to lose people who formed the bedrock of our foundations. And that’s one of the hardest parts. It’s so hard to keep going when you lose parts of your own identity. Full stop.

The other parts: I made mistakes, and some were pretty big. I said things I can never un-say, I did things I can never undo. God, I wish I could. It’s hard to realize that you have to just keep going when sometimes you want to just run back.

What I’ve Learned

It feels really weird to realize that the elders maybe weren’t so wise when I was growing up. The older I get, the more I realize that I don’t know shit about shit. But there are a few things of which I feel sure.

1. You are the person you need to form the strongest relationship with. You’re with yourself all the time, you may as well take pleasure in your own company. While it’s important to support and help others, and be a safe space for them to land, it’s more important to put the oxygen mask on yourself first.
2. Let people love you. This can feel extremely hard, even embarrassing, to admit. But we’re all human and need to be loved. It’s just one of life’s truths. For me, it’s been very hard to admit that people might actually like me, much less love me. But if you let down your guard and allow yourself to be vulnerable, you can let so much love in to wrap you in a big ol’ hug. It’s really nice.
3. Don’t eat before bedtime. I can’t stress this enough. If you can get away with it now, great! Cherish it. But man, I have not gotten away with it really at any point of my life, and yet I keep doing it. Sleep’s important. You can save the snacks for tomorrow! Hide ’em if you have to. Even if you’re hiding them from yourself.

Hello, Fifty!

I can’t wait to get started with you tomorrow. First, though, I’m going to spend the rest of today honoring 49.