There was one year in my 30s I kept saying I was a year younger than I was. Then there was another year where I kept saying I was a year older than I was. It wasn’t intentional or deceptive. I just actually couldn’t remember. All of my late 30s felt the same. 36, 37, 38 all kind of blurred into the same age. Then 39 hit and that was defined as the year before I turned 40. And then 40 was, well 40.
Each year when I was younger felt more significant. 16 I could drive. 21 I could legally consume alcohol. 23 was just an awesome age. I was older but not old. Still young but more mature. Pursuing my dreams and living my passions daily. Feeling big feelings and figuring out who I was.
My late 20s we’re defined by getting closer to turning 30. But I still didn’t feel old. I felt young and strong.
I’m 40 and I feel tired all the time. I’m slower than I used to be. Walking down the stairs in the early morning I’m not sure what’s creakier- the stairs or my joints. I have to intensely focus and hold onto the railing more than I care to admit.
I don’t remember the last time I leapt out of bed. Unless you count when our smoke detectors randomly go off in the night. And all I can do then is stand at the top of the stairs and yell “hello. Who’s there.” There’s nobody there. But my brain can’t react as fast as my body in the moment. It’s funny but not.
I’ve never been afraid to get old but I do find myself contemplating my age frequently. I lament my younger years and when I used to be able to do this or that or felt rested. Being a teenager feels like it wasn’t actually my life. It was a movie I watched. I envy my sons and the long, full lives they have ahead.
It’s not that I’m sad I’m older. And honestly I know 40 isn’t old. But 40 is a lot of years to have lived. And sometimes I miss the simplicity of being young. I wouldn’t trade my life now for anything. But I don’t want to feel old for the rest of my life.
At least I know my age this time. We shall see what happens as the years keep ticking on.
