The moment I hit 36, I became acutely aware of 40 looming on the horizon, much like a car in a dream that you know you’ll soon meet head-on. In that surreal state, calmness prevails as you brace yourself for the inevitable encounter, reassured that everything will turn out just fine.
I once worked alongside a colleague named Jenna who boldly claimed her age as a reason to live unapologetically. “I’m having a cocktail before noon—I’m 40, after all!” she’d declare. “I told my boss exactly what I thought—I’m 40, who cares!” “I can wear pajamas at work! I’m 40, for goodness’ sake!” Her fearless attitude was something I admired, especially as I still clung to my thirties, viewing 40 as a gateway to a more serious, perhaps daunting, chapter.
My apprehension about turning 40 was far greater than I felt about reaching 30. In your twenties, society constantly reminds you of your youth, making you eager to step into your thirties for a bit more respect. But 40 undeniably signifies adulthood. It suggests a maturity that is closer to 50 than to 20, and you suddenly find that the world expects you to be taken seriously whether you’re ready or not. At that time, I was single and childless, half-joking about my hopes of being done with my first marriage by 40. My friends chuckled, but I could see the worry in their eyes as they silently lamented my future of solitary tuna dinners in a tiny studio.
As I clung to my final days of 39 like a lifeline, I found myself binge-watching “thirtysomething” and recalling how ancient the characters felt during my teenage years. Now, each scene echoed with the uncomfortable reminder, “You’re older than that person.” I even tentatively tried on the label of “middle-aged,” but it felt like a poor fit. I still felt youthful and exuberant.
When I finally turned 40, it was unsettling. Although I celebrated with dear friends who had already crossed the threshold, I felt as if I’d been blindsided by that metaphorical car. It took me a week to shake off the shock, filled with questions about my achievements and regrets—why was I still squeezing into jeans from my twenties? Why didn’t I own a home?
Yet, gradually, the liberating mindset that often accompanies this milestone began to seep in. I started questioning why I cared so much about others’ opinions. At 40, it was clear: not everyone would like me, and that was perfectly fine! I realized I could express myself authentically, shedding the habit of making my voice higher to seem less intimidating. I began to prioritize my time, distancing myself from those who lacked humor or kindness. If I was already fretting about aging at 40, what would the next decades hold?
“I’m 40, for crying out loud!” became my mantra. I was not old, but I was on a journey that required me to embrace life fully. Inspired by Joseph Brodsky’s poignant birthday poem, I felt a surge of gratitude for both my past and the future ahead. I was 40, and I was ready to embrace everything life had to offer.
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Summary
Turning 40 can be a daunting milestone, but it also brings a liberating sense of freedom and clarity. As one reflects on their life journey, embracing gratitude and authenticity becomes essential. This age signifies a time to prioritize personal values, shed unnecessary worries, and focus on joyful living.