As I approached my fortieth birthday, I realized that I had been mentally preparing for it long before I celebrated the actual milestone. On the day I turned 36, I began to perceive 40 as a looming presence, much like an oncoming vehicle in a dream. You remain calm, driving steadily, aware that an encounter is inevitable. Despite considering evasive maneuvers, your subconscious assures you that you will handle it just fine.
I once knew a woman named Laura who boldly used her age as an excuse to embrace her desires without hesitation. “I’m going to have that drink before noon—I’m 40 now!” she’d declare. “I told my boss exactly what I thought—I’m 40!” or “I can wear my pajamas to work! I’m 40!” I admired her carefree attitude, which I, still navigating my thirties, perceived as a gateway to maturity.
My apprehension about turning 40 was far greater than any anxiety I felt about hitting 30. During my twenties, people often remarked on my youth, leading me to yearn for the thirties to gain credibility. However, 40 represents an undeniable entry into adulthood—a space where you are closer to 50 than to 20, and society takes you seriously whether you’re ready or not. Facing 40 as a single person without children, I half-joked about my plans to be divorced by this age. My friends chuckled, but I sensed their pity as they drove away, discussing how sad it was that I’d be alone, living in a small apartment and eating canned tuna with flimsy utensils.
I clung to 39 as if it were a safety net, reminiscing about the show thirtysomething, recalling how old the characters seemed when I watched it as a teen. Now, I found myself thinking, “You are older than that character and that character and that character,” a disconcerting mantra that echoed in my mind. I even experimented with the idea of calling myself “middle-aged,” but it felt foreign; I still felt like I was in my thirties, and sometimes even much younger.
The transition into my forties was a bit jarring. I had a wonderful celebration surrounded by friends who had already crossed this threshold, yet I felt as though I had been hit by that metaphorical car. It was disorienting, prompting me to question my achievements, such as why I was still trying to fit into jeans that no longer suited me or why I hadn’t made significant strides in my career or personal life.
However, over time, the much-discussed “I don’t care” attitude that often accompanies turning 40 began to manifest in my life. Why was I still concerned about others’ opinions? At this age, it was clear that not everyone would appreciate me! I learned to speak more authentically, letting my true voice come through, even when dealing with customer service. I became selective with my social circle, recognizing the value of spending time with people who uplifted me rather than those who drained my energy.
Now, I understand that at 40, I’m not old, but I am fortunate enough to have many more years ahead of me. As Joseph Brodsky poignantly expressed in his birthday poem, “Now I am forty. What should I say about my life? That it’s long and abhors transparence…Yet until brown clay has been rammed down my larynx, only gratitude will be gushing from it.”
Gratitude is the key takeaway— for the years I’ve experienced and for the adventures yet to come. I’m 40, and I’m thankful.
For those navigating similar life stages or considerations about starting a family, our blog post on couples’ fertility journeys through intracervical insemination offers valuable insights. Additionally, if you’re looking for ways to enhance fertility, you may find the information on fertility boosters for men useful. For comprehensive information about pregnancy and home insemination, the CDC provides excellent resources.
Summary
Turning 40 can be a transformative experience filled with newfound confidence and gratitude. It’s a time to embrace authenticity and prioritize meaningful relationships, as well as a chance to reflect on past experiences while looking forward to the future.
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