Parenting
Updated: Aug. 4, 2021
Originally Published: Aug. 4, 2021
I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: your 40s are downright bizarre. They’re a mix of liberation and fear, joy and solitude, clarity and confusion—all at once. That’s just the emotional rollercoaster. The physical shifts? Totally wild. (Thanks, perimenopause.)
I knew my body would change as I entered “middle age.” I watched my mom, aunts, and their friends go through it. I read about it and heard countless stories. But knowing isn’t the same as experiencing. I really wasn’t ready for it all.
Just the other day, I glanced at my knees and was genuinely startled to see the papery texture. My skin looks like a crumpled old homework page that’s been chewed by the dog, crammed into my kid’s backpack, and then flattened again. What the heck!? When did this transformation happen?
Perhaps I should’ve expected it, but I’m still taken aback. I’m equal parts fascinated and horrified, to be honest. Then I chat with friends about the crazy ride that is our 40s, and I realize, with a mix of shock and awe: OMG, I’ve become a middle-age cliché.
I have wrinkles and acne—at the same time! This would be bad enough without the relentless barrage of ads that exploit our insecurities. They constantly remind us of our flaws, pushing products to fix our wrinkles and revive our dull hair. Can we get a break already?
I often find myself awake at 2 a.m., drenched in sweat, my mind racing: Did I turn off the oven? Why did I say that dumb thing 12 years ago? Are my kids on their phones too much? And why can’t I get that Olivia Rodrigo song out of my head? I don’t even know the lyrics! Oh, and my teen will be driving soon. That means a second car, more insurance, and probably a stronger prescription for anxiety meds.
Sometimes, the midnight panic is so intense that I can’t catch my breath. Middle age means night sweats and panic attacks, which lead to daytime fatigue. I look tired all the time—because I am! Just like middle-aged moms throughout history.
Not only do I appear tired, but I also look angry. My resting face has taken on a life of its own, and I’m too exhausted to do anything about it. People ask, “Why do you look mad?” Thanks to my RBF, I think, I wasn’t angry—but now I am. A while back, probably during my 17th Zoom call of the day, I realized how much energy I was wasting trying to look less annoyed. And I thought, ENOUGH. I’m done trying to conform to society’s expectations of how I should appear.
This brings me to another middle-age cliché: we’ve had enough of the nonsense. So much just doesn’t matter anymore. I find myself muttering “who cares” constantly. Who cares if I have my dream job or not? Who cares if my waistline is wider and my backside is flatter? Who cares if I get another tattoo or dye my hair a bold color? Who cares if I wear cowboy boots, a miniskirt, or sweatpants? Who cares if I have laugh lines or deep wrinkles? Who cares what I post online? Who cares about the dishes or laundry? Who cares? Is “who cares” the new mantra of middle age?
Yet, I do care. About plenty. I care about fighting against sexism, dismantling racism, and allowing women to age gracefully. I care about raising kind and empathetic kids. But there’s also a lot of nonsense everywhere—so much so that I have higher expectations and less tolerance for it, leaving me more disappointed in others (and myself when I don’t meet my own standards). I find myself angry often. Is it hormones? The nature of humanity? Who knows.
That anger lingers just below the surface. Sometimes, I’m so furious I feel like my head might explode or I could curl up and sob for hours. Occasionally, it’s both in a matter of minutes.
But alongside that anger is an abundance of joy and gratitude that’s overwhelming. I realize life is short, precious, and beautiful. And OMG, it’s half over. Cue the panic that I’m doing it all wrong, wasting time on trivial things, and not truly living each day to its fullest. Cue the late-night anxiety.
Middle age is filled with contradictions. It’s confusing yet liberating, empowering yet bewildering. I feel like a middle-aged stereotype while simultaneously being shocked that this is happening to me. No, it’s not just happening to me. This is who I am now.
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Summary:
Entering middle age brings a whirlwind of emotions and physical changes. From feeling liberated to experiencing panic attacks, the journey can be both confusing and enlightening. While societal pressures can heighten insecurities, embracing a “who cares” attitude about trivial matters can be liberating. However, this phase of life also brings a deeper awareness of important issues and a desire for meaningful connections. Ultimately, the experience of middle age is a blend of joy, frustration, and self-discovery.
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