45 years.
Wow, that stings a little.
My mind just keeps telling me I am halfway to 90.
NINETY.
I know what you are thinking, I’ll never make it to 90.
You’re so right.
This 45, this number looming over me and arriving officially on the 15th of May 2023, hits a little different than I was expecting. You may remember I took my 40th birthday very seriously, with a full photo shoot and multiple celebrations.
I fully intended for that to be the last “big one” until 50. But now I have found sweet 45. It’s hard even to explain the things that have changed since I was just a baby, five years ago. I feel like an adult for the first time in my entire life. Some of it is obvious; my now natural brunette hair, my sobriety, and finally settling into a writing and coaching career that took decades to create. Some of it may be less obvious to the average person. I’ve traded wine for water. I’ve become a person who regularly is in bed asleep by 9pm, sometimes earlier. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to stay up and party with my friends when the opportunity arises, but those nights seem to be less and less as my friend group approaches their own versions of parenthood and their 40s. I’ve been an optimistic person for a long time, but now I am a bit more of a realist. I’m more hopeful, appreciative, and grateful for the little things. My dreams are still enormous and definitely within reach. I’ve lived my entire 40’s without my Dad, which seems unbelievable. The grief has long since transformed into smiles and laughter at his memory, something I couldn’t imagine that first year. Both of my kids have gone out into the world as adults. I am, as they say, an “empty nester.” I spent their entire childhoods daydreaming about what I would do with my life when I was no longer bound geographically and financially, dedicated to their 24/7 care. The irony is now I spend most of my time thinking about the next time I’ll get to see them and hoping they’ll need me in some way. They usually don’t, which is also a good thing. This man I married ten years ago has aged beside me, his dark hair slowly turning gray and a beard appearing to create a whole new version of himself. Better. It’s so unfair how men get hotter, and women literally get hotter…regularly waking up sweating from the neck and chest. That is, if you are lucky enough to have fallen asleep, to begin with.
Things are better than ever in so many regards, but overall just feel so different. Things that used to seem so important have just fallen by the wayside. Things I never thought I would care about have taken focus. It’s hard to know how much of this transformation is being in my mid-forties and how much of it is sobriety, which is, in itself, completely life-changing. Doesn’t really matter why I am here, just that I am happy to be. One of the greatest changes over the last few years is my new obsession with me. Being alone, something I used to dread and do anything to avoid, is now a non-negotiable. I regularly have “Leslie” days/nights, which sometimes include massages and other self-care acts, but even more often are just me eating pizza in dead silence in hotel rooms overlooking beautiful cities. The freedom in that is perfection. One of those things I couldn’t have imagined as a broke single mom of two.
And here I am, stuck somewhere between raising little kids and being a grandparent. Middle-aged but not in velcro shoes. In the best shape of my life but with a painful tennis arm and insomnia. I guess you could say I’m free, but I’m focused. I’m hard, but I’m friendly, baby. I’m sad, but I’m laughing. I’m brave, but I’m chicken shit. I’m sick, but I’m pretty. And what it all boils down to….is that no one’s really got it figured out just YET.
Leave a Reply