Faking My Forties

Why Faking My Forties?  Because I never really think of myself as all grown up.  Despite my 42 – there I said it – years on this planet I still feel like a freshman in high school.  Still looking for where I fit in, still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up, and I still don’t know what the hell to do with my hair.  Yet, I am married, have two kids to take care of, (lots) of bills to pay, a full time job, housework…  You get the picture.  Although I still have homework, thanks to the infamous “year off” (24 of them) and finally getting back around to finishing college.  So my plate is pretty full.  That makes me an adult right?  I mean, I’m old enough (check), and have all those responsibilities (check), so I qualify – don’t I?  

But I still don’t feel like an Adult – with a capitol A.   I kind of feel like a big, fat faker most of the time.  I think this is because I don’t feel as “wise” as my younger self thought I would grow up to be one day.  I mean, while growing up, all the adults in my life (btw, most were younger than I am now) seemed incredibly decisive, mature, and reliable.  Not that I don’t exhibit those qualities – I do.  But there’s always that freakin’ hindsight which is so very effective in nurturing doubt.  All those grown-ups in my early years appeared so self-assured.  And, they were always right!  At least it seemed that way.

              

I had a friend, someone I looked up to, once tell me 35 was her best year.  She said at 35 you were no longer in your twenties and still labeled “naive”, and wiser than you thought you were at 30.  I swear sometimes I feel like I missed my thirties completely.  Like I got into some time machine and ten years just flew by.  Heck, I’ll even add my twenties in there too. 

I spent my twenties working my ass off, saddled early with too much of responsibility at work, when I should have enjoyed life a little more.  Oh, how I wished I would have loosened up and gone a little wild when I had the chance!  And despite having my two children during my thirties – who are truly the best things in my life – my thirties pretty much sucked. Don't get me wrong, there were high points, but it was mostly stressful.  But I’ll save my eight years worth of pregnancy-related emotional baggage for another time.  Though the worst of it you can find here, if you’re so inclined (it's sad, be warned).

So here I am, all grown up – technically.  It happened so fast and I don’t feel nearly as wise as I should be.