Alright, I’m going to warn you right off that this post is a bit different. There will be no battlefields mentioned here. No war stories. No historical tall tales. Nope, I’m foregoing all of that for this month’s post, because there’s something personal going on with me that needs addressed. A very special birthday. This February… I am… turning 40.
Whew, there. I said it. Although, it usually isn’t hard for me to admit that I’m turning another year older. I mean, come on. Birthdays can be fun. The balloons, the cake, the cards, the cake, the scotch, the cake. Did I mention cake? And friends? But mostly cake.
Let’s just say that in years past, I’ve been known to make a bit of a spectacle out of my birthday. I like causing a big stir when I manage to survive another turn around the sun. I have my reasons for this. A big one being that there are so many people whose lives were so unfairly cut short, and that makes me sad. So, big birthday party it is. I also feel like we never know what another year, or month, or day will bring, so we need to celebrate the milestones and do what the big lizard says in the live-action Cinderella movie – “enjoy it while it lasts.” Big birthday party it is. Or, maybe I’m just a bit more selfish than I’d like to admit, and I happen to enjoy a day that’s all about me. BIG BIRTHDAY PARTY IT IS.
Either way, birthdays have always been a big deal, but this year has been… well, different. Staring down the 40 barrel has made me much quieter and a little bit more reflective. I actually thought about ducking a party all together this year (sacrilegious). My poor husband practically had to pull teeth to get me to agree to a small, family-only affair that involves a day of wine tasting and sequins. It’s very weird, but this time around, I feel uneasy as I face this new number. Apprehensive. Maybe even a little scared. Because 40 is… well, it’s the entrance way to a whole other chapter of life. And that’s kind of a big deal.
What to do with these strange new feelings? Up my anxiety meds? Perhaps. But really, I thought the best thing I could do was write. Because that’s how I always sort through things. So, I thought I might take some time to peel back the layers of the M.B. Henry onion and be a little bit vulnerable for once. To look 40 right in the eyes and take stock.
Let’s start with the question that everyone probably asks at my age. Lord, it’s the first time I’ve used that phrase. Am I where I want to be at 40? In short – yes. I mean, like anyone else, I struggle with ups and downs emotionally. I look at myself in the mirror sometimes and I ask my timid reflection if I’m really enough. I have those days where getting out of bed feels too dang hard. But Rainy Days and Mondays aside (Carpenters reference – for all you who are not turning 40), I feel I’m in a good place. My husband and I are going to celebrate ten years of marriage this year, which is another wonderful milestone. We have a pretty amazing home that we share. And for crying out loud – I’ve published a book and have another one inbound in March (click here for more on that). That’s something, right? Right?
And yet….
For my entire life, I’ve had this insane pull, or hunger, to be constantly on the move. Whether that’s physically or emotionally. My husband calls it “restless soul syndrome,” and I think that fits the bill quite nicely. While it has driven me to do some remarkable things, it has also been hard to manage at times.
Especially when I was younger. In fact, I spent most of my 20s making a plethora of dumb mistakes because of it. Jumping from place to place, job to job, guy to guy (don’t go judging me haha). As a young, single lady living in Los Angeles, I found I could hardly sit still. And the feelings. Such strong FEELINGS all the time. Perhaps that’s why I became a writer. I needed an outlet for all of that, because the meds on their own aren’t always enough.
Yes, my 20s were filled with turmoil and energy, finding friends and losing them, carving out a career in entertainment, and trying to attain some modicum of stability and control over the chaos. Because that energy, you guys. That FIRE. It was all-consuming, and I wasn’t always able to withstand it.
I thought the flames would cool somewhat with age, and as I entered my 30s, things did settle down a little bit. I married my amazing husband and we’ve been happy little clams ever since. I got my first steady job with a steady paycheck and benefits, where I showed up to the same office every day in cute little office clothes. My husband and I got a nice little apartment in nice little Glendale – still close enough to the city for adventure, but far enough away that we could walk to places and have a bit of breathing room. Sort of. I mean, as much breathing room as one can afford in Los Angeles. Yes, things looked to be settling down a little…
And yet….
That energy started picking up again. I got bored and restless at my job. I was getting a little sick and tired of Los Angeles. I had been there for over ten years and that’s a pretty darn long time for me to be rooted in one place. A lot of my friends had moved on to different lives and different cities. I started to panic and squirm under the restlessness. But then I found something that quenched the thirst a little. In my 30s, I found travel.
First came Fiji. My husband and I went there for our honeymoon and let me tell you – what a place. The beauty. The FOOD. The people. I actually found that Fiji is kind of perfect for someone like me, because it consists of several islands all bound together under one flag. You can hop from island to island if you get bored. You can even kayak to some of them. I even conquered my fear of the water and went snorkeling (I got horribly seasick, but it was worth it). Fiji was a great first time overseas.
Then came London, which has a pretty high spot on my favorite cities list. The first time I went to London, I actually went alone. My husband was busy with work and I was in a bit of a “between jobs” place. So, I flew off to spend some time with a good friend who lives in Britain. She had to work during the day, so it fell to me to learn my way about town. And you know what? I did alright. With a helpful London guidebook and my charming ability to make friends with anyone, I had a grand old time in jolly old London. I’ve been back several times since.
There came more international trips too. Ireland, Spain, France. Germany, Belgium, Switzerland. Luxembourg, and most recently, Scotland. Plus a few more that I’m forgetting because aging. At any rate, I guess you could say I’ve been around. I’ve seen some things. Enough that I should be satisfied at the very least.
AND YET….
I’ve started to feel like a weird hybrid of a creature lately. I’ve settled down with my husband in Indiana. My body is getting the first flickers of its inevitable slow-down (things hurt that didn’t used to, I talk about my back a lot more, etc… etc…). I like our lives here, where we’ve managed to build a pretty incredible community of friends. But I still have that pull. That fire. In fact, I find that I’m somehow even hungrier than I used to be. Like my soul is going to jump out of my skin if I can’t give it some dang water.
And I think that’s why 40 has got me a little bit rattled. It’s the fork in the road that we all face. Time to settle down? Or time to move again? (Not from our house. We love our house. But you know…move somehow). Time to get a tattoo? Or time to realize the risks involved with that? Time to plan another big wild adventure? Or time to stop putting off those home upkeep projects that need done? Sigh…
I guess that’s what 40 is all about – learning how to make room for both. And as for which direction I’ll go, I suppose I don’t even know yet. But I can say this with absolute certainty, I think I’ve done alright with the 40 years I’ve put away so far. While I don’t always know what I’m doing, and sometimes set myself up for more dumb mistakes, I do seem to know myself pretty well, and sometimes I feel like that’s half the battle.
And I’m still learning too. I’m learning to forgive myself more. I’m learning that I’ve wasted an awful lot of time hiding my true self because I thought it wasn’t good enough, and that has to stop. I’ve learned to embrace my flaws, especially my mental illness (OCD), and work with them instead of against them. I’m learning that it’s okay to keep running and keep reaching upwards, even if I need to be in bed by nine.
I can’t say what forty will bring, but I suppose I’ll put on my finest sequins and raise a toast to it anyway. Because I can’t stop it, and getting older sure as hell beats the alternative. So here’s to 40 and beyond. It’s a heck of a life, guys. Don’t blink, or you’ll miss it.
