This month, I’m officially over 40. I joined the club last year and had no misgivings around it, probably because my husband and I spent the weekend in Boston with no kids, blackout shades, and a lot of cannoli.
This year, it feels a little more real. I’m no longer the new kid to the club and those 30s are becoming a more distant memory. Looking back, it was a bit of a rollercoaster. It was the decade that I got married, had two kids, launched a business, lost my dad, quit drinking, and took on more than one stray dog. I’d be perfectly happy if this decade was a little more boring.
I feel like I learned a lot of lessons in my 30s—some really excruciating ones—but I emerged on the other side stronger, more confident, and with the wisdom that only comes from being knocked down and getting back up. My 30s taught me how to share my life with someone, care for a tiny human being, put my neck out for something I believe in, take a major career risk, enjoy the highs when things are going right, and then feel crushed when things don’t work out. I also learned what it’s like to lose someone who is so deeply a part of you, it feels like you're walking around incomplete.
I'm sure many of you have ridden such highs and lows, the rocky waves of life. Is this the very definition of adulthood? You’re a bit beaten up, but far from being down for the count.
Yep. I’ll take a quieter fortieth decade, please—unless it involves winning the lottery. That's one high I don't mind riding out. I wish you all calm waters ahead.
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