LJ Idol Season 10, Week 13 , Abandon all hope, ye who enter here
Turning forty seems to be like one of those moments in a story, where the heroine is choosing her path and there is a big door with words inscribed in Latin above “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here”. Warning her, in no uncertain terms that just by entering, she will cast herself into what could possibly be the worst of damnations.
There are so many horror stories of what happens when you turn forty. You lose your sex drive, your skin loses elasticity, you enter that age, where you are no longer youthful, but you are still way too young to embrace being a silver foxy lady.
I remember how old forty seemed when I was younger. My mum always seemed ancient to me, even as a young teen, all sensible skirts and warm cardigans. I was never going to be like that. The irony of it is at sixteen, my mum was seven full years shy of turning forty. I had so many ideas of who I was going to be, what I was going to do. And now here I was, staring the middle year sof my life in the face without accomplishing anything of real note.
But the thing people don’t tell you, is that with age, with experience and life choices, you gain a different perspective, and you can, if you are really lucky, become pretty carefree. See I do have the first onset of wrinkles, something I dreaded in my twenties. My hair, if it didn’t meet with a very talented hairstylist every month, would be greyer than my grans. I wear sensible shoes far more often than I wear heels, and my only statements of fashion are that I am known for pearls, dresses and sensible scarves.
I am middle aged!
There I said it, I’ve reached what is likely to be at least the middle of my life. I could wax on about not feeling any different than I did when I was twenty or thirty, but I do, and I’m glad I do. I loved my twenties, but for a good proportion of them I was an insecure wreck. Never skinny enough, never fit enough, constantly worried that I wasn’t good enough. I enjoyed my thirties, becoming a new mum, watching my son hit his milestones, but I also remember constantly watching pennies, scrimping, scraping and for nearly three years I couldn’t work because of chronic illness.
It has taken forty years, some amazing friends, a wonderful husband and son and a whole lot of growth to become who I am now. I am probably the most confident and centred I have ever been. I love my job, I have climbed high enough in my career that I can work hard, in hours that suit me. I’ve grown into my talents and achieved things I never thought I would. I was voted one of the fifty most influential woman in the UK IT market, and whats more I can be proud of it without worrying people will think me a blow hard.
I have never been in a better place with my husband. Yes there are far few wild sex escapades, but they still come, he still makes me smile, he can still make my tummy flip with excitement and I love him in a way that is far deeper after twenty years of a shared life. I miss the baby my son was, but every day I love watching him turn into a young man.
I am comfortable with who I am, I make no excuses for my love of all things geeky, or my sometimes polarising political views. I stand up and I’m counted and I hold myself and others accountable in a way I would never have done before.
It took me a long time to get here. I know I’m not perfect, and never will be, but unlike in my earlier years, I don’t strive to be. I am happy being enough. Enough for my friends and family and most importantly enough for me.
You see that’s the thing people forget on these heros journeys. When they enter that door, cave, mystical realm, it is part of an adventure. It is a road that takes them onwards and usually on to something far greater than what they left behind.
So this year, my year of middle agedness, I look forward to raising a glass to myself. To making new mistakes, learning new things and embracing the changes to come.
Except for the wrinkles, yeah I lied, I’m still really not a fan of those :D
There are so many horror stories of what happens when you turn forty. You lose your sex drive, your skin loses elasticity, you enter that age, where you are no longer youthful, but you are still way too young to embrace being a silver foxy lady.
I remember how old forty seemed when I was younger. My mum always seemed ancient to me, even as a young teen, all sensible skirts and warm cardigans. I was never going to be like that. The irony of it is at sixteen, my mum was seven full years shy of turning forty. I had so many ideas of who I was going to be, what I was going to do. And now here I was, staring the middle year sof my life in the face without accomplishing anything of real note.
But the thing people don’t tell you, is that with age, with experience and life choices, you gain a different perspective, and you can, if you are really lucky, become pretty carefree. See I do have the first onset of wrinkles, something I dreaded in my twenties. My hair, if it didn’t meet with a very talented hairstylist every month, would be greyer than my grans. I wear sensible shoes far more often than I wear heels, and my only statements of fashion are that I am known for pearls, dresses and sensible scarves.
I am middle aged!
There I said it, I’ve reached what is likely to be at least the middle of my life. I could wax on about not feeling any different than I did when I was twenty or thirty, but I do, and I’m glad I do. I loved my twenties, but for a good proportion of them I was an insecure wreck. Never skinny enough, never fit enough, constantly worried that I wasn’t good enough. I enjoyed my thirties, becoming a new mum, watching my son hit his milestones, but I also remember constantly watching pennies, scrimping, scraping and for nearly three years I couldn’t work because of chronic illness.
It has taken forty years, some amazing friends, a wonderful husband and son and a whole lot of growth to become who I am now. I am probably the most confident and centred I have ever been. I love my job, I have climbed high enough in my career that I can work hard, in hours that suit me. I’ve grown into my talents and achieved things I never thought I would. I was voted one of the fifty most influential woman in the UK IT market, and whats more I can be proud of it without worrying people will think me a blow hard.
I have never been in a better place with my husband. Yes there are far few wild sex escapades, but they still come, he still makes me smile, he can still make my tummy flip with excitement and I love him in a way that is far deeper after twenty years of a shared life. I miss the baby my son was, but every day I love watching him turn into a young man.
I am comfortable with who I am, I make no excuses for my love of all things geeky, or my sometimes polarising political views. I stand up and I’m counted and I hold myself and others accountable in a way I would never have done before.
It took me a long time to get here. I know I’m not perfect, and never will be, but unlike in my earlier years, I don’t strive to be. I am happy being enough. Enough for my friends and family and most importantly enough for me.
You see that’s the thing people forget on these heros journeys. When they enter that door, cave, mystical realm, it is part of an adventure. It is a road that takes them onwards and usually on to something far greater than what they left behind.
So this year, my year of middle agedness, I look forward to raising a glass to myself. To making new mistakes, learning new things and embracing the changes to come.
Except for the wrinkles, yeah I lied, I’m still really not a fan of those :D