Forty Two

I turned forty two yesterday.

I’m very happy being in my forties. I know we all speak about worrying about getting old and how the years are flying by. But I’m pretty sure most of us don’t mind as much as we claim to.

Well I don’t. I’ve written about it before, I struggled through most of my thirties, my twenties are a blur and were extremely confusing so to reach my forties being in the best shape of my life, both physically and emotionally is actually a huge relief.

When I was 21 I had a close friend who I worked with who was 26. I remember feeling really sorry for her. She was single and living on her own and I can clearly remember thinking it was tragic being ‘so old’ and living like that. I used to look at her hands and compare them to mine being horrified that one day mine would be that wrinkled.

Isn’t that ridiculous?  It’s embarrassing admitting it.

I also remember feeling sorry for my parents when I was growing up. I was always worried about them dying because they were so old and I pitied them.

It’s actually really arrogant looking back on it. Especially that they were probably not much older than I am now. I mean, SO OLD.

But I think it’s probably not uncommon and could possibly be filed under ‘when you are under 25 you really don’t know shit about anything, even though you are deluded, thinking you know it all’.

I’m not going to sit here and lie and tell you that being in my forties brings an all-knowing capacity. I still have my own personal struggles but at least I am aware of them now and I can manage them better.

It’s not nearly as difficult to navigate my way through a crisis or depression like it used to be. I can still be stubborn and unreasonable but the difference is that now I know when I’m being unreasonable. Rather than just thinking I’m right all the time like my twenty something year old self did.

I often wonder how frustrating it must be to be an elderly person. To have most of the community looking at you and feeling sorry for your frailty, when you are the one who has far more life experience and understanding of humans and of life in general.

I can’t stand it when people half my age think they know it all so when I’m 80 I’m likely to be one of those outspoken old people we all think have dementia so we ignore. Well screw that.

My kids already roll their eyes at me when I try to tell them it really wasn’t that long ago I was at school. That I understand how the playground works, how bitchy girls can be and how tough it is to struggle with liking school.

I remember thinking my parents had no idea what they were talking about so what makes me any different?

Why do we think we know it all when we were younger? Yet we grow and age and as we do so we realise we actually don’t know much at all. That we are always learning?

Life is strange and youth is a perplexing. I can honestly say, hand on heart, that I do not want to go back in time. To when I didn’t have grey hairs sprouting from unspeakable places. To when I thought I knew it all but really I was just an anxious and confused person on the inside pretending to know it all and putting on a stellar performance that all was fine.

So there you have it. 42.

As someone pointed out to me yesterday. My 42nd year is the year I plan on running 42km three times.

The year of marathons.

Now that’s something I could never have done in my twenties or thirties.