...or something like that.
I loved turning 40. I'm not even sure why. I was anxious for it, looked forward to it, couldn't wait. I spent my year as a 39 year old waiting to be a 40 year old. I celebrated with my best girlfriends, some who had hit their 40's before me, some with many years to go before getting there. We ate, we drank, we danced... we closed the bar.
And life was a 40 year old? It was wonderful. I felt a sense of peace, as though I know who I am and I'm okay with it. My life is far from being what I thought it would be at this point and I'm still a work in progress but I no longer struggle to be good enough for anyone else. Although if you knew me, you'd probably be surprised that that was one of my struggles, but it was. I wanted everyone to like me.
Then I turned 40. You don't like me? I'm okay with that. I like me. I'm not the prettiest, or the best, or the funniest, but I'm me and this is what you get. I'm a good person, I'm fiercely loyal, I love completely, I am optimistic, I take your stories and hold on to them tightly.
Sounds great, doesn't it? If only I'd share the bad stuff, too. But this is my blog and the optimist in me would like to believe that right now, in this very moment, it's all good. And it is.
For those of you on the cusp of 40 (and you know who you are!), embrace it. You can't fight it, nor should you even try. Be thankful for your 40 years and who you've become as a person. You are worthy of celebrating the impact you've made on those around you. And in another 40 years, we'll look back together at how far we've come...