As I celebrate my 38th birthday, I appear to have life all figured out. I graduated from university, married a wonderful partner, and welcomed four healthy children into the world. I own a home, have a fulfilling career, a circle of friends, and my health is intact. Yet, despite these accomplishments, I often feel inadequate. Here’s why.
This morning at the gym, I met a young, vibrant woman named Sarah. Our coach decided to share a fun fact and asked her to tell me about her encounter with a celebrity. As she spoke about her meeting with Chris Hemsworth, my mind spiraled into self-doubt, screaming, “What have you done with your life?”
I remember a time when I was just like her—20 years old, living in Los Angeles, pursuing a theater degree while juggling waitressing and acting gigs. I had my share of adventures, including a memorable conversation with none other than Robin Williams during a coffee break on the studio lot. But now, with no tangible evidence of those experiences—just a story to tell—I found myself feeling more pitiful than impressive.
What made it worse was the realization that I had seemingly given up my dreams of becoming an actress, settling instead in the Midwest. I anticipated the inevitable question from Sarah: “Do you still act?” I recited my rehearsed response about relocating to save money after meeting my husband, getting a university job that didn’t utilize my degree, and being “stuck” in Indiana for the foreseeable future. So, no, I don’t act anymore—unless you count local commercials, which I know don’t hold much weight.
With a polite smile, she gradually distanced herself, perhaps hoping to escape the weight of my perceived failures.
As I continued my workout, I couldn’t help but reflect on my choices. In my youth, I set goals for myself, and while I may not have won an Oscar (though I did name my fourth son Oscar), I achieved many of my aspirations. I wanted to marry a loving partner, support myself, own a home, and even meet Oprah. Most importantly, I sought happiness.
It’s common for college students to be uncertain about their futures. I set broad goals, and while I reached them, I realized the distinction now is that I’ve shifted my focus entirely to my children’s ambitions, neglecting my own.
That’s where I feel I’ve faltered.
Living without personal goals means I’ve been on autopilot. My children can dream for themselves, but approaching my 40s, it’s time I rediscover my own aspirations—beginning with not comparing myself to someone half my age. To be fair, I could probably outshine her!
However, I genuinely believe there’s more ahead of me than I once imagined. The goals I had at 20 couldn’t possibly encompass the incredible potential I’ve observed in women over 40, and I’m excited to explore that.
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In summary, turning 40 doesn’t mean the end of dreams; it’s a new beginning. The journey continues, and it’s time to embrace new goals while letting go of self-doubt.