Turning 40 may be depressing, but the party celebrating that birthday was amazing. My husband did an awesome job. I’ve never smiled so much.
The guest list was small, but included the people who mattered most to me…my family. It had the appropriate amount of old age sarcasm, which I would expect from my husband. In fact I think I’d have been disappointed if the party had been different. Although he could have used a better picture on the “Lordy! Lordy! Look whose 40” signs displayed to show people where to find the party. I plan to make great use though of the black cane complete with bicycle horn. And let’s not forget the silly boulder hat with shaggy, silver “hair” hanging down or signs posted everywhere with the tube of polygrip.
The site of this great occasion – a local metro park- was perfect. We had all kinds of outdoor activities including volleyball. Normally I would avoid this sport, but I actually dragged my nearly 40-year-old body out to enjoy numerous games. But the best part of the party – I didn’t have to do a thing but have fun. I can’t tell you when that happened last.
But now comes the hard part – actually turning 40. The party has definitely helped, but I got a little wisdom from one of the party goers that will stay with me a long time and hopefully ease the transition into a new decade of life.
“Don't feel too bad about turning 40. It is a hell of a lot better than the alternative. Hell, I'm 65 and don't feel (or act it) and you know your mom is still going strong. Age is ONLY a number. Be proud of it and keep moving on. You will NEVER get younger in age, but you can control how OLD you really allow yourself to get.”
The author of this great wisdom was my uncle. I have a tremendous amount of respect for him. Even though I’ve heard similar things from others, it was never phrased quiet this way and it never had the effect his words had on me. Almost instantly his words had an effect. As of today, turning 40 doesn’t look quite so bad. I have the urge to make the most out of 40 instead of dreading it. OK well, today anyway. I’m notorious for changing my mind so only time will tell how this year will go. In the meantime, I think I’ll still hold on to my “39 Forever” badge from my party. Just in case.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
Is Forty the New Twenty?...Time Will Tell
June 11, 2009
Almost everybody has a certain birthday or age they dread. For me that age is 40. The day I turned 39 the dread of 40 started. Suddenly I couldn’t say “Oh I have a few more years before I’m 40.” It was just months away. Yikes. What a realization that was.
For someone with acute anxiety, having my 40th hanging over my head was not good. Just the thought of my 40th birthday would give me a panic attack. Shortness of breath, queasiness in the stomach and a gut wrenching fear followed by utter exhaustion.
I jokingly began referring to it as “the 1st anniversary of my 39th birthday.” Nobody bought that. Some didn’t even get the joke. Others just laughed and pretty much said to get over it.
As the months ticked by, I began to try for a positive spin on it. Not an easy task, I must say. But hey I was pretty sure my husband would have a party for me. I haven’t had a birthday party… well… it’s been at least 10 years if not longer. Who doesn’t want a special day? Yeah. That works periodically, but…well, then the seconds would tick by and I’d be back to the anxious part.
What am I so afraid of? I’ve asked myself that a thousand times. The biggest thing I came up with is death the end. My life will be half over. At least that’s what 40 means to me. The first 40 years flew by. Will the second go by as fast? What have I done with my life? Here I am with no job (I was laid off in January), no college degree, a ton of debt and not a lot of money. OK no money. I was supposed to be well travelled by now. But that hasn’t happened. Big house – nope. Fast paced career – Nope. What do I have?
And then it hits me. I have a husband of 15 years and three kids who loves me. I’ve gone back to school and I’m big on volunteering in the schools and church. For awhile that eased some of the anxiety. Then in March my anxiety returned with a vengeance. It was accompanied by some of the strongest panic attacks I’ve ever felt – and of course the agoraphobia. Now I can’t blame the whole thing on my birthday, but it sure doesn’t help.
Now here I am a week (actually 6 days) until my birthday. My husband is planning a party for me. It’ll be a special day all for me. Of course there’s the risk of his bizarre sense of humor. He’s already warned me about it – to an extent. Every time he laughs that evil little laugh, grins that evil little grin and says as sweet as possible “I love you honey,” I know I’m in trouble. Now of course I worry about whether the panic attacks and agoraphobia will let me go to my own party and let me enjoy it. Only time will tell. One of my strategies to ward off the panic is keeping a journal. It used to work. So the plan is for me to journal my 40th year. So here we go. Ready, set, journal.
Almost everybody has a certain birthday or age they dread. For me that age is 40. The day I turned 39 the dread of 40 started. Suddenly I couldn’t say “Oh I have a few more years before I’m 40.” It was just months away. Yikes. What a realization that was.
For someone with acute anxiety, having my 40th hanging over my head was not good. Just the thought of my 40th birthday would give me a panic attack. Shortness of breath, queasiness in the stomach and a gut wrenching fear followed by utter exhaustion.
I jokingly began referring to it as “the 1st anniversary of my 39th birthday.” Nobody bought that. Some didn’t even get the joke. Others just laughed and pretty much said to get over it.
As the months ticked by, I began to try for a positive spin on it. Not an easy task, I must say. But hey I was pretty sure my husband would have a party for me. I haven’t had a birthday party… well… it’s been at least 10 years if not longer. Who doesn’t want a special day? Yeah. That works periodically, but…well, then the seconds would tick by and I’d be back to the anxious part.
What am I so afraid of? I’ve asked myself that a thousand times. The biggest thing I came up with is death the end. My life will be half over. At least that’s what 40 means to me. The first 40 years flew by. Will the second go by as fast? What have I done with my life? Here I am with no job (I was laid off in January), no college degree, a ton of debt and not a lot of money. OK no money. I was supposed to be well travelled by now. But that hasn’t happened. Big house – nope. Fast paced career – Nope. What do I have?
And then it hits me. I have a husband of 15 years and three kids who loves me. I’ve gone back to school and I’m big on volunteering in the schools and church. For awhile that eased some of the anxiety. Then in March my anxiety returned with a vengeance. It was accompanied by some of the strongest panic attacks I’ve ever felt – and of course the agoraphobia. Now I can’t blame the whole thing on my birthday, but it sure doesn’t help.
Now here I am a week (actually 6 days) until my birthday. My husband is planning a party for me. It’ll be a special day all for me. Of course there’s the risk of his bizarre sense of humor. He’s already warned me about it – to an extent. Every time he laughs that evil little laugh, grins that evil little grin and says as sweet as possible “I love you honey,” I know I’m in trouble. Now of course I worry about whether the panic attacks and agoraphobia will let me go to my own party and let me enjoy it. Only time will tell. One of my strategies to ward off the panic is keeping a journal. It used to work. So the plan is for me to journal my 40th year. So here we go. Ready, set, journal.
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