Making Friends with 40

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Eighteen months ago--which was, ahem, 18 months before my 40th birthday--I designed a lovely little website dedicated to tracking a long list goals I wanted to achieve. Just the usual "cram it all in before I'm officially middle-aged" stuff, like get in shape and give that writing career I've always wanted a dedicated push.

I love goals. I love resolutions, and task lists, and anything that smacks of a fresh start. Because of this, I frequently bite off more than I can choke down (harhar). I built so many steps into my pre-midlife-crisis goal tracker, and yet I achieved so few. I don't weigh less; instead I regained the 25 pounds I had lost after having my twins three years ago. I didn't invest in my writing career. I didn't even write. And that beautiful website I'd built to track it all? Failing was so disappointing that I deleted the whole thing.

It's okay. I built this pretty new one to replace it, and I like it so much that I'm sure I won't be able to stop posting. (Optimism...is 40 too late to pick up that habit?)

I was disappointed over not transforming into a svelte, super-productive author, but I did have a good reason: a brush with some serious health scares that, as a mom of twin youngsters, petrified me. It made turning 40 something that I can't, in good conscience, dread. Over the past few years, I lost friends and family members who were way too young; between that and having my own health scare, any dread of getting older has been stamped out for good. Which basically leaves me with the choice to feel grateful. 

I don't use the word blessed often because I don't want to water it down. But turning 40 has shown me that, as cornball as it sounds, every day really is a gift. I want to open each one expectantly, trusting in the love around me, giving love to others, and investing in moments and activities that make me kinder, stronger, and more at peace with myself in this hectic world.

Give me your hand, 40. Let's rock this decade together.

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