Mid-Life Tranquility: Reflections on Turning 40
We are turning 40. People I grew up with have turned 40 and are moving into what has, until recently, been called “middle age.” When our parents, aunts and uncles, teachers, etc. were turning 40 a few decades ago, they threw each other “Over the Hill” parties. They’d lure the unsuspecting victim into a party of their friends and family, throw on the lights and yell “SURPRISE!” while thrusting them into a room decorated like a campy, macabre, funeral fiesta straight out of the Haunted Mansion. It was like a tongue-in-cheek ribbing to remind everyone that their friend was officially old.
"Over the Hill" Parties of Recent Years
They’d decorate the room with black balloons and crepe paper. The birthday person would be presented with all manner of elderly accouterments: Metamucil, bottles of candy dressed up as an assortment of “pills” they’d now have to take for “old people” health conditions (like being “crotchety” and “grumpy”), medical devices like canes and walkers, and even the most humiliating gift of all: a box of adult diapers. It was all designed to gleefully say, “Guess what? Old age and decrepitude are just around the corner! Get ready!”
At this point, I would like to pause to remind modern readers that people as recently as the 2000s were doing this to people turning 40. It seems antiquated, insensitive, and outdated now, but believe me, party stores were stocked to the brim with themed tombstones and all manner of party decor meant to remind the celebrant that they were basically on their way to the morgue.
I haven’t heard of anyone having a party like this in years. Now that I’m the same age that those aunts and uncles were when they were being teased for being ancient, I can’t fathom it. Someone (not so graciously) reminded me when I turned 40 that based on the life expectancy of an American woman I am technically “middle-aged.” Most of my grandparents passed in their mid-80s, so about half of my years on this earth are likely behind me.
Does turning 40 leave us primed for a mid-life crisis?
The zeitgeist of recent years dictates that this is the age when men of means go out and buy sports cars and leave their wives for younger women. It’s a time when women begin to take up strange hobbies and spend their free time in “she-sheds” working on them. Perhaps the concept of a mid-life crisis is overdue for an overhaul, the same way that the Over the Hill party has turned into a celebration of being Forty and Fabulous.
There has been no crisis point of ascending to mid-life for me. Instead, I am grateful to find myself in a new phase of mid-life tranquility. There is something wonderfully empowering about realizing that your life could be half gone. Samuel Johnson said it this way: “Depend upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.” Execution isn’t looming, but I’m aware of my own mortality in a way that my mind simply couldn't conceive of in my first three decades of life. (I know this to be true because when people my age died back then, it was described as a terrible tragedy that someone so young was taken. “They had their whole life ahead of them.” People stop saying this about the same time they stop asking when you’re going to have children.)
Turning 40 has been a wonderful kickoff to an age of heightened awareness and gratitude:
Things that used to bother me are now put into the perspective of 40 years. I can tell the difference between an actual crisis and a temporary inconvenience because I have lived through many examples of both.
I stop to smell the roses (and lavender, lilacs, magnolias, etc.) because I know that those are moments well spent sniffing something lovely. I linger over cups of tea to watch them steep. I pause while washing dishes to observe the hummingbirds drink nectar from my hibiscus tree. These are moments just for me, and I give them to myself liberally.
Being rushed and hurried along is no longer something I will tolerate. As a middle-aged woman, I feel I have earned the right to move at my own pace. If I want to stop and read every placard in the museum, you can move along because we planned ahead a drove separately. I knew this would happen.
Instead of feeling like I must save all the “good stuff” of life for later, I am now finding things to enjoy along the way. (Remember, tomorrow is promised to no one.) The good days are these days.
Each birthday feels like another chance to be thankful for the time I’ve been given. I can name lots of people who didn’t make it to this age, and I feel I owe it to them to live the best I can since they didn’t get the chance.
I’ve been alive long enough to have friendships that span decades and have weathered all those ups and downs. That kind of history simply doesn’t yet exist for younger people.
Gentleness comes with age if you work on it. I’m more forgiving of everyone around me, and much gentler with myself. Tenderness promotes a youthful glow far better than any skincare regimen or anti-aging treatment.
Like a Russian nesting doll, I acknowledge every age I have been and carry those young women and little girls with me. My inner child is alive and well, and I unabashedly let her share her wonder, excitement, and desire to play.
These reflections on turning 40 have come to me quickly and joyfully. Generally speaking, growing older means you can legitimately say, “this ain’t my first rodeo.” At 40, you have the perspective of significant life experience, but also the recent memories and dreams of someone half your age. You remember what it felt like to be the lowest ranking person in any room, how nervous you felt at being “new,” and what it was like to have most of your major life decisions still ahead. You might wonder at the paths not taken, but if you have been lucky and smart, you are content with where you stand and wouldn’t go back.
Modern culture declares that turning 40 is a time to celebrate how far you’ve come, and I’m “here for it” (as the kids say). We need more parties with color, glitter, and whimsy, and bury all those dark reminders and insinuations that 40 (or any age) means you’re nearly dead. It’s high time that we fully put the expectation of a “mid-life crisis” to bed. Instead, let’s live lives that don’t necessitate a crisis to bring us back to what we wanted out of life. Let’s “live a little” along the way at every age to stay aligned with the lives we desire.
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