Last September, I turned 50. It's taken me a few months to settle into it. Middle age is the eye of life's storm. The turbulence of growing up is behind me while the peril and wreckage of aging lies ahead. I'm sitting in the quiet calm of it both appreciative and afraid. I don't sweat the small stuff anymore because the big stuff lurks large around the bend. I'm free from the should-could-would of the past and linger longer in the right here and now. I look back on my days full of a quicker pace and a faster dance, but have come to terms with the days I currently squander in a slower groove. I now give myself permission to be in the moment. I'm more contemplative, more complacent, more accepting, and yes, more at peace. I have much more patience and tolerance at hand. Life is too short to waste any more negative energy or to have a bad time. I'm coasting down the hill now. Most of the hard work is behind me and there is really only one more mountain to climb.
So, this is what I know right now:
I am an expert on most things. I've lived long enough to have tried it, tasted it, had it happen, or at least heard of it. I'm wise now. I know that I know things. Not everything, and not all things but enough to speak from experience, give sound advice and state my opinion with confidence. My brain may have reached it's capacity for new learning and my memory seems to have a slow leak but I've vividly retained the most important facts. I know what's right, true and real. I remember the people and places, sights and sounds of my life. I can still feel the experiences and state the facts. I think I've figured out how the whole thing works. Go ahead, ask me anything. If I don't know, I'll get back to you but only if I can find my cellphone and then figure out how to Tweet.
I'm much less "presentable" than I used to be. I still have good hair days, but most of the time get by without makeup in yoga pants and clogs. My idea of dressing up is to throw on a pair of Spanx and wear dangly earrings. I'm comfortable and I'm me. Fifty means I'm ok with living in my own skin. It wasn't that long ago I was the cute college coed, but I don't necessarily want to be her anymore. My stomach and my boobs are my badges of honor from motherhood, and I wish I felt differently, but cosmetic surgery and underwires terrify me. I'm not convinced that ALL bodies need to be seen as beautiful. I'm enhanced by my Rubinesque qualities and still paint a pretty picture. You see my true colors shining through and that's why you love me.
I have daily moments of both bliss and despair. I find myself appreciating the simple seconds of the day. Smaller things make me smile. I find happiness in easy, unexpected ways and look for joy right in front of me rather than searching for perfection. That sunshiny spot to curl up in on the couch, my pup at my feet, and a cup of Chai in the owl mug- life is good! On the other hand, I feel the tragedies of life more deeply too. A suffering friend, an ailing parent, a smart ass teenager can all rock my world and shake me to my core. I've lost that confidence that makes youth so much easier. I'm more vulnerable now. I spend as much time looking outward as I do in. I feel the pain and suffering of those all around me and I wear it like a cape across my shoulders. I share the load, but find myself hoping more of it falls on me than on those I love. Fifty is full of life and oh, so bittersweet.
I have become my mother…and my father too. I am no longer mortified by the things they are and do. I am thankful for the things they've handed down. I accept their positive qualities as a tremendous hereditary gift and reject those less than desirable traits with confidence. I know they have always meant well and tried hard. I have worked to emulate the good and eliminate the bad. It's gotten so much easier to understand them. I see things from their perspective and know the circle has come full. It's unbroken and I will never stop needing or wanting their influence in my life. I choose to be like them. Just wait, they said. Just wait, I say now. I know someday my children will realize the same and that makes me smile.
I count my blessings while simultaneously calculating when my luck will run out. I know the scales have decidedly tipped. I no longer languish in what I don't have and instead love all that I do. In my marriage and family life, I cherish the shared wit, the knowing looks, and the quiet conversations. I'm slower to anger, quicker to forgive, and content to linger in just being together. When I look at my children, I thank the heavens that we've raised them well and also wonder what in hell will become of them. Despite the evidence that all will be well, I know it won't be over til it's done. I knock on wood, cross my fingers, and pray. Trust is my word of the year and for the next fifty years as well.
When I blew out the birthday candles in September, I wished for good health,
more time, and a happy life.
That is it. That is me. Luckily, that's what I know right now.
