Turning 40 in 2020

I turned 40 this year. I have wanted to be 40 since I was 25. I remember my father’s 40th birthday and he seemed to just glow — he seemed like life made more sense and he looked like he was having fun. Furthermore, every woman I have ever looked up to was in their 40s. So, naturally I thought that getting to 40 was this threshold of aging where things got better. A time where the secrets of Life were revealed and you earned your stripes for all the shit you survived.

Well, I turned 40 in 2020, which as you all know by now is the year from hell. This year has been anything but easy, it has asked me to pivot in my career to be able to keep providing for my family. I have been in survival mode for 8 months. I now have the great privilege of homeschooling my children, running a digital business with no background in that field, and watching my bank account slowly run out of any savings I have ever had. Of course, things could be worse, I am still grateful to be alive and kicking. 2020 has pushed me to be creative in ways I could not have imagined. Now, I am not saying this push was fun, it has been down-right harrowing. I am mentally out of tricks. I’m sure you can relate. Moving into this fortieth year of life has been weird and irritating and stupid. So irritating, in fact, that some byproducts of this year has been me telling people off, refusing to work the way people wanted me to work, offending folks and basically going mad.

I imagined that 40 meant I would have some poise in the way I would navigate the world. I thought I would be this cool chick at 40. I am not cool — not cool at all. Turning 40 in 2020 has birthed a wild, ballsy, downright pissed off version of myself. And do you want to know something? I like her. She has lost enough to know that everything is temporary. She is so tired, she is delirious and that is kinda fun. She knows her adaptability because everything keeps changing, breaking down and getting worse. All of her avoidance techniques and coping mechanisms have failed, so even if she is crawling forward on the floor, she know that is still forward.

Am I living my best life? Heck no people, this sucks. However, I am 40 and doing the damn thing. My wild self is emerging and in her rage and howls, she is also a truthful, sassy, straightforward powerhouse engaging the world. So, goodbye to the version of 40 I thought I would be and hello to me, now, as I am.