I always imagined that by the time I turned 40 there would be certain things I would have seen or achieved.
Admittedly, I thought those thoughts from a very distant place. I was probably 23 or so, pregnant with my first child and meeting with a friend for lunch. She was turning 40 and seemed so…I don’t know, together. She had a beautiful home, was well travelled and had found a lovely husband after her previous one turned out to be a jerk. She looked healthy, styled and confident. That was what 40 looked like to me then and even though at the time it felt like it was an entire lifetime away, it didn’t scare me. In fact, it looked sublime.
Now that I’m now almost 40 myself though, I’m starting to question my perception of what this age is supposed to look like. There are so many things I thought I would have either conquered or experienced by the time I got here.
1. Starting with the small stuff, I thought I’d be so much more organised. I have three children, all of whom have various appointments or social engagements to attend on a daily basis. Add to this my own work and social engagements, it’s a rare day that we have absolutely nothing happening. I attempt to keep track of all of these in my phone. Yet without fail, my phone runs out of battery or I forget to enter in the dates and times or I drop it in the toilet. I’ve attempted to use a paper diary. I’ve lost three this year already. Why haven’t I mastered this crucial life skill by now?
2. I also thought I would have visited the place I want to see most desperately in the world: New York. My imaginary love affair with New York began when I was eight and got my first penpal and postcard of Central Park. I have wanted to go there ever since and it actually pains me that in my 40 years, I still haven’t made it.
3. I thought I’d be a better parent. Let me qualify this. So I’m a fairly relaxed parent yet I still do irrationally “blow my top” at my children from time to time. It’s usually a build up of little things. The bathroom will have a funky smell and then I’ll find that no one has bothered to flush the freaking toilet AGAIN or I'll find a banana skin 30 centimetres from the bin. The thing is, I know this is mostly my fault because I wasn’t super strict when they were growing up and it’s too late to enforce it all now. I guess I just always thought I’d be all Zen and chill by now. That we’d all sit around and sing Kumbaya in a circle each night before bed. Where is my camp fire?
4. I thought I would stop worrying about my weight. I always thought that I’d grow out of caring what size I wore or how much I weighed. But it does still matter to me and I am constantly fighting the battle between wanting to fit into my jeans and wanting to eat all of the ice-cream and wine.
5. I thought I’d be satisfied. Again, when I thought about it at all, I was much younger, but I guess by now I thought I would be happy doing what I was doing. Or being with who I was with. Or living where I was living. That I wouldn’t want more. Yet, I’ve never wanted more in my life than I do right now.
6. I thought I’d enjoy cooking. Look. I can cook. I just don’t bother anymore. For two reasons. One, my kids don't seem to like eating anything I serve them and 2) no one appreciates the effort. So now, we have a bog standard menu that gets recycled weekly. Sometimes it gets eaten by the masses, sometimes they turn their nose up and go hungry. I provide nutrition and I make sure they are fed but I don’t enjoy the preparation part. It's not a nurturing act. And I’m sad about this.
7. I thought I’d be much better at keeping in touch with my friends. I’ll be honest, I’m a bit shit at this. Fortunately, good friends are the kind you can pick up with even if you’ve had a great yawning interval between chats. I used to think it odd that my mother would only physically see her best friends every year or so or talk sparingly on the telephone but now, as I've gotten older, I've fallen into the same trap. I just wish I was better at being a friend.
Read more: 6 friends you need in your life (and 10 you don't)
Mostly though, I think 40 feels like SUCH a massive benchmark. If we’re lucky, we’re at the halfway mark of our lives. I’m happy, I have a beautiful life and by no means does the above mean I’m not grateful for it. I guess I just had the unreasonable expectation on this particular birthday that I’d have it all sorted out by now. Maybe we never do. Maybe that’s what someone should sit us down and tell us when we’re younger.
That at no point in your life is it all going to come together. And that there is beauty in the unknown and messy.
What did you think you’d have done or experienced by the time you hit 40?