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Milestone birthdays: love them or hate them, they often come with more than cake and well wishes from people you may only hear from once a year.
Call me a party pooper, but I find most birthdays challenging. Even as a kid, my stomach churned at the thought of being the centre of attention for a whole day. As a highly sensitive adult, I find birthdays tend to plunge me into deep contemplation.
The bigger the birthday, the stronger my aversion.
As much as I know I should feel grateful for each day I’m alive, turning 40 in 2027 sees me ruminating over all my life choices to date. That’s just me, though. Maybe you love the thought of a milestone birthday.
Standing At The Edge Of Midlife
The definition of midlife seems to differ wildly. People around my age or slightly older seem triggered when I refer to myself as being midlife. My definition is not a reflection on anyone else; it’s simply what I feel I’m experiencing at this stage of life.
I suspect the marketing muck that is the notion of having a “midlife crisis” has worked its magic a little too well.
It seems midlife needs to be rebranded for what it truly is: an opportunity to redirect where necessary now that we are equipped with more life experience.
What If Midlife Is A Stage Rather Than A Specific Age Range?
As a 39-year-old single woman without children, I understand why I may be feeling the way I am now rather than later in life. Most people my age have a partner and kids who likely consume most of their free time. I don’t.
I have a lot of time for self-reflection. Who is anyone else to tell me that I’m not midlife? As if tomorrow is guaranteed anyway.
It may be confronting, but we’re all here on borrowed time, and the reality is, we can never really know when we’ve reached midlife.
When I refer to being middle-aged, I simply mean that I’m entering into the second phase of life. Part one is well and truly done and dusted, and part two awaits. I know for sure that regardless of what life brings, I’m far better equipped to pursue what I truly want in life.
Much of my lamenting focuses on what I feel is wasted creative potential. So much so that as my 39th birthday came and went recently, I concluded that the only way to fill the void I’m experiencing is to write and self-publish a book. For whatever reason, this is what my heart is longing to do.
We Can’t Buy Lived Experience
I believe everything happens for a reason.
I’ve helped other people ghostwrite their books. I’ve also engaged in several collaborations with other writers that never went anywhere for one reason or another.
I’ve spent far too long being bitter about the books I’ve spent time, effort, and energy on that will never be published. Upon reflection, perhaps these creative projects have never seen the light of day because my first book is destined to be a solo exercise. Like much of my life to date.
Most importantly, if I had tried to write the book I’m drafting before now, it would have been a totally different book. My soul wants to tell the story I’m crafting at this point in time. This is where my inner compass has led me.
Midlife As A Millennial
I’m a 1987 baby. Everyone’s map to midlife looks different. Personally, my midlife contemplations are not the stereotypical conundrums I’ve heard most people face as they mature.
I’ve built the life that makes me happy rather than what may have been expected of me:
I pursued the career of my choice.
I’m happily single. I don’t believe in chasing something I may never find. I am happy alone. If I end up partnered, great. If I don’t, so be it.
I never felt called to have children, so I didn’t. I don’t regret this decision. Kids are gifts. My view is that you have to be all in on ensuring they have the best possible upbringing.
Sure, I have several “what ifs?” that are largely the result of hindsight.
What if I studied psychology instead of journalism? It probably would have served me better in the long-term.
What if I didn’t do so much free work when I was younger?
What if I learned my lesson the first time in business? How many times am I going to make the same business mistake (gutting my business of its soul by trying to monetise it) before I hear the message from the Universe?
I also acknowledge that I can never know whether taking a different path would result in anything “better.”
So, Where To From Here?
Honestly, I have no idea.
I want to finish my book. Not for anyone else, but for me. I’m not attached to any outcomes. I’m writing the book I needed as a highly sensitive person in my teens and early 20s.
If you’ve ever embarked on a creative journey of some kind, maybe you can relate.
Perhaps the most powerful gift that comes with getting older is knowing what we don’t want. I know who I am now, and what makes me happy. I’m no longer trying to play a “character” for the world. I’m not afraid of being alone.
Regardless of how many candles adorn our cake, I don’t believe we’re ever done learning and becoming the most authentic version of ourselves.
To reiterate my point, I’ll draw on Buffy’s infamous cookie dough analogy from the series finale of “Buffy: The Vampire Slayer.” (Remember, I was a 90s kid!)
“I’m cookie dough. I’m not done baking. I’m not finished becoming whoever the hell it is I’m gonna turn out to be. I make it through this, and the next thing, and the next thing, and maybe one day, I turn around and realize I’m ready. I’m cookies.” ~ Buffy
Are you approaching midlife, or have you been there and done that? What thoughts about midlife do you feel deserve to be challenged?
Please share any words of wisdom you have.
~
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