Turning 40

I turn forty this week, and I couldn’t be more excited. I celebrate all birthdays, no matter the number, and forty feels significant. I didn’t feel this way turning thirty. I think a big part is moving on from my thirties. They were fun, full of love, and brought profound grief. Of course, more grief will come, that’s life, but this past decade taught me I could survive it. 

The thirties hit me with big life lessons, as most decades do. And with that comes my attempt at learning from them and accepting the guidance they bring. I think the biggest lesson I learned is that our reaction is the only thing we can control. We react to everything around us, what happens to us, and basically how life simply moves along… with or without us.  Navigating this was difficult, especially when dealing with infertility. I learned A LOT about myself. In particular, I learned how much I indeed crave control.

Control was never something I focused on. I’ve taken pride in being the relaxed one, very easy going and flerxible. Growing up safe and secure, I never had to put much effort into it. Dealing with infertility and delivering my stillborn daughter made me feel completely out of control. I craved it after the loss. I grasped onto anything I could have authority over and held it tight. And then the reality of what I actually could control revealed itself and it wasn’t much. The anxiety of this awareness continues to complicate things today, and I try to work with it instead of against it. 

In my teens, I was so concerned about fitting in and making sure others liked me. My twenties were about finding out what appealed to me and  what didn’t, especially in the area of love. The thirties were me learning how to let go of the life I’d always wanted (motherhood) and learn how to love where I’m currently at while still working towards new goals. I wonder what the forties will bring.

Entering this decade feels like a new era with many new things to dream about. Previously, my goals were mainly spent trying to become a parent, and now I have space to dream in other areas. It feels like a gift that’s been sitting on the table, and I’ve yet to open it. The beach house, writing my book,  landscaping our yard, bucket list travel, remodeling our home, expanding my business, and opening an Airbnb…these are things I can now put my energy into.  

Letting go of the life I wanted takes practice. I have to work at being OK with it.

I want to have a happy life without children. 

I want to enjoy everything I can.

I want to love my story simply because it’s mine. 

So that’s what I’m doing. 

I’m leaning into the things that bring me joy and will see where it takes me. 

Writing.

Cooking.

Travel.

Fashion.

Vulnerability.

Walking.

Hosting.

Authenticity. 

Connecting with others that bring out the best in me. 

These are the things that light me up.

Fear still hides in the unknown, and I’m trying to look at it with curiosity. Many of the great people in my life are older, and they bestow a grace I hope to obtain. They must have felt like me at some point and still made it. And if they can do it, so can I.

I know younger me is honored in how I live my life. As a kid, I used to “play future me.” I had babies to take care of and offices to run. Pretending I was older was my favorite pastime. And today, I am the person I pretended to be. It doesn’t look like I imagined and somehow is better than ever. Little Carrie is proud that I smile so much. She loves to see that I feel genuine joy daily. She loves the two cute dogs I snuggle, a warm and inviting home where I host my friends and a loving husband that respects me for who I am. I’m guessing eighty year old me loves this, too.

Cheers to my thirties. 

May the saddest day of your future be no worse than the happiest day of your past.