I’m 43 years old

Some thoughts from this year.

Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash

Happy Sunday, Soothers. I turned 43 this week, and here are some thoughts.

Nothing matters timeline wise, except that shame tells us it should. I’m 43, and happily partnered yet happily unmarried. I’m 43 and happily childfree, though until about age 37 I was obsessed with the idea of having a kid; looking back, mostly realizing because I thought I should and everybody else was doing it. I’m 43 and my partner is 30 years old; nobody cares. I’m 43 and I started my business at age 40. Starting a business to be an online life coach when you’re 40 after nearly 20 years in a corporate environment when most of your friends around you are successful in the MBA, LinkedIn, Senior Vice President sense, is a real ego trip, my friends, but I did it and survived, and am thriving, even. I’m 43 and just purchased and moved into my first house. I’m equally convinced I would be totally happy just renting for my whole life, it just kind of shook out this way and I have a crap ton of economic privilege. I’m 43 and I can finally see myself at 50, 60, 70 (all god willing), whereas before this past year or two those seemed like literally impossible ways of picturing myself. Now I feel I can settle into them.

I’m 43 and feel like I finally hold the knowledge that nothing really matters, and also everything totally, extremely matters. It’s a fine line.

I’m 43 and I’m finally starting to be less terrified of slowing down and doing less. At the same time I feel the pressure of how much there is to learn in and delight in in this world and that I want to do so much more of it. But who’s to say a trip to a mountain top in a foreign country is any more special than an afternoon in my backyard? I’m learning to try to treat the afternoon spent in the backyard as equally special and unique.

I’m 43 and everybody told me that when I turned 30 I would give less fucks. I would disagree. My 30s were a very turbulent decade, full of so much fuck-giving. I can see now that for me, the 40s are really the decade where I just care less about anybody’s opinion of me, other than a few beloveds. The era of less fuck-giving is finally here, and I am ecstatic.

I’m 43 and I’m obsessed with only listening from and learning from women 5–45 years older than me. I think this is a good rule…