I don’t know about you, but some people say forty is the new thirty and I’m not sure I’d agree. Forty’s not horrible, but since I’ve turned forty in 2021 I’ve felt like I’m in an ongoing tug-o-war match. On one side is my thirties, pulling me to believe: I’m still young, my skin’s still firm and that I can still hit the hay with my teenagers. On the other side, are my fifties laughing at every little wrinkle, magnifying the hip pain and taunting me to bed by 9:00pm. It’s a real struggle, a constant back and forth, and quite exhausting to be honest.
I wake up in the morning with fifty already pulling at the rope, all the while screaming, “You stayed up too late again.” I jump in the shower and give it a yank back trying to get bright-eyed and bushy tailed. After putting on my skinny jeans, blow-drying my hair and applying my eye-liner…I hear my thirties sing, “Girl you look good for your forties—you still got it!” Thinking I may have the upper hand, I walk to the car. Grabbing the handle, I feel the YANK! Just then I notice how old my hands are starting to look: the small, fine wrinkles scatter across my fingers and wrist. So I fight. I start to pull back—telling my fifties that these hands are really not that bad and that he can take a look at my feet cause they still look twenty, especially with my freshly painted pedi. From the time my feet hit the floor, they must be planted or I will be face-first in my fifties before I know it. It’s back and forth all day and the constant pulling has my hands and heart calloused and weary.
The botox, anti-aging night creams, age rewinding foundations, collagen supplements etc…are lined up and tugging me back in time. While the gray hairs, crows feet and varicose veins are dragging me into the future. The funny thing is… I’m fighting both sides. I don’t want to give in to the thirties and the lie that says beautiful is only wrinkle-free. But God forbid, if I’m letting my fifties prematurely yank me into eating early dinners and going to bed just after the sun sets. So here I am tirelessly running from one side of the rope to the other to yank back, and I’m tired.
I miss the days when I was 10 and was letting 20 win, in fact I was pushing the flag across that middle line just to get there sooner. It wasn’t so tiresome, it wasn’t a battle I just gave in. Can I just lay down the rope? Can I forfeit the match and just embrace the imminence of a slowly drifting center flag? Can I please just enjoy looking at myself in the mirror at 42 and not wishing for the past or trying to evade the future! Yes! I can! I will, and I am!
Today I’m living the 42 life. I’m laughing because I squatted down too long and when I stood up all the blood rushed to my legs causing my blood pressure to drop and my body to drop with it. I’m smiling at those 20 gray hairs and saying, “Heeelllloooo there” like Robin Williams in the movie Mrs. Doubtfire. I’m not fighting it and I’m not giving up. I’m giving in. It’s a much needed surrender. Don’t be confused… “surrender” is a positive. It requires courage and wisdom. One must know when to give in. So today I’m giving in—into the now and what is. I’m no longer fighting for what was or fighting off what could be. I’m embracing this right now, so I can live more richly in these moments. (Anne Morrow Lindbergh)
About the Creator
Natalie Stover
I’m a mother of 5, wife and teacher. I love creating conversations with words. I believe words are powerful things that can inspire action. If you can’t “do”, you can still create action with your words!
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Confession Heals.
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