I turn 46 next week.
There’s no way around it. 46 is old. Old as the hills. To be 46 is to be firmly entrenched in middle age. An age of pouched stomachs, grey hair, twinsets and early nights. Right?
No, of course it bloody isn’t.
A few years back I read several articles about celebrities in their 40s. Each of them eulogised how much they enjoyed being older.
“Utter bullshit,” I thought.
Reese Witherspoon spoke about the lack of pressure she felt to look and act a certain way now that she was older. Jennifer Aniston celebrates that the expectation to have a baby has gone. Helen Mirren boldly states that she has arrived at the age of not giving a shit.
“Nonsense”, I told myself.
But here I am, nearly 46, and I think I also arrived at the age of not giving a shit. And it’s the most wonderfully liberating feeling in the world.
We are genetically and socially groomed to find younger people more attractive. A real woman is fecund. What purpose do we serve once our baby-making years move behind us? Surely the only logical conclusion is to put us out to pasture?
But here’s the thing.. that’s the bullshit. Older women are smashing ceilings and reshaping the world every day.
At 45, I can run & cycle further than ever before. I train 5 days a week at the gym. I am starting a Master’s degree. I juggle a husband, 3 kids, writing a book, authoring a blog and a non stop social life. I am bright and witty, well-read and can talk about music for hours.
And I have more friends, and better friends than I have ever had… a real circle of women supporting women.
I didn’t grow up a girl’s girl. In my 20s I hung out with the lads, trading on my looks for what felt like meaningful interactions. In my 30s I was crippled by the thought of not being able to have kids (I have blocked fallopian tubes) and then crippled by having kids – there was no time for friendships.
But it’s my friendships, above all else, that have raised me up. My friends are a solid wall that protects me from the world. They love me no matter what. They support me every step of the way. And I too support them.
The joy of female friendships. Of people checking in, of impromptu lunches, of being and having a shoulder to cry on. These valuable human connections have filled my soul and given me the confidence to walk into the world and say “I don’t care”. I don’t care if you see a middle-aged woman, an exhausted mother, or a lunatic on the dance floor. I don’t care because the people who know me see all of me. They know journey I’ve travelled and the ports I have called at. And they love me, warts and all.
It’s not to say that my 40s have been all sunshine and roses. I’ve had dark periods.
I struggle a lot with this expat life and finding my place in the world. But even on the bleakest days, as I wallow in self-pity, life has taught me that a mindset change is all that is needed and that ‘this too shall pass’.
Many of my friends have struggled with being in their 40s. One told recently me she felt that this was ‘the age of dissatisfaction’. Our kids are getting older and no longer need to full time care they once did. Our marriages settle around us, a comfy sofa rather than a bouncing bed. As women, we may have opted out of careers, or taken breaks to raise our children that put us several positions behind our male counterparts. The excitement of our youth seems far behind us and there is only old age to look forward to. I know some of my friends are struggling with this right now. I know I have too.
But this is the glass half empty version of our lives. One day I woke up with the realisation that what the above gives us is FREEDOM.
Freedom to live our lives every day the way we want them to. Older kids – hell yeah! Freedom from routine and wet wipes and feeling tired. Long term married – hell yeah! Freedom from the dating game, from chasing and being chased and wanting and not being wanted. Not working – a whole day to fill with whatever you want. Further down on the career ladder? Fewer responsibilities, baby!
These days are OUR days. The days that we dreamed of in childhood and fought for in our 20s and 30s. We’ve made it. We married a good guy. We raised beautiful children. We worked our asses off and had that career. We ditched the toxic friends, found our village and worked hard to make sure those that are worthy of our love and affection know it. Our bodies and minds bear the scars of the battles we have endured to arrive right in this very place and time.
So when I say I have arrived at the age of not giving a shit. It’s true. I’m loud, I’m bold, I’m outrageous and I’m not for everyone, but I earned my stripes and I’m not changing for anyone.
Bring on 46 I can’t wait to meet you.