Asleep at the Wheel

On my 39^th birthday, my boyfriend reminded me that he does not date women in their 40s. I laughed, accustomed to his cavalier and sometimes caustic comments that had no boundaries be it politics, religion, or sex. What? I get one more year? He wasn't serious I surmised smirking to subdue any reactionary shockwave he was attempting to elicit. After all, he was older than I (so in my mind I was still a younger woman), and, more importantly, we had buoyantly rode out the ups and downs of the relationship ritual that led us to the 'L' word.

One month later we broke up.

Eleven months after that, when I turned 40, my psyche submerged into a dark, demoralizing place. I literally spent the year in a state of confusion, and for no other reason than my age. Forty. 40. I'm in my forties. Forty is the new 30!  The word, the number, the statement, the spin. No. None of it sounded right.

What just happened? Forty years whipped past me and I barely noticed all that had occurred.

I'd been asleep at the wheel.

I took a mental inventory of everything I experienced in my lifetime---the good, the bad, the ugly, the euphoric. I started reading my old journals searching for clues to the mystery of my existence, because I felt like I had missed something really really important along the way.

Turns out, I did. As a teen and a young adult, I lived passively and often on the rebound. I waited for things to come to me, rather than proactively and deliberately going after the things I wanted. I thought things happened to me. I had no clue that I could make things happen. And, I accepted being on the receiving end of bad behavior as if it were my fate, and I had no choice.

Now, at age 42, having done all of the soul-searching I should have done ten years ago, I look back at that moment in time when someone tried to convince me that my age influenced my appeal, and again, I laugh. Only this time it is not a defense mechanism. It is a conscious appreciation of the fact that you can't stop the inevitable-people age and looks fade. But, character is a constant. When that moral fiber includes compassion, humility, generosity, and humor, it emanates out in an ageless, alluring way.

So the ex-boyfriend actually did me a favor. Sometimes it takes a figurative slap in the face to wake up. Thanks to him, I was forced to take a good look at where I had been, and more importantly, where I was going. I dug deep, accepted my mistakes, recognized my accomplishments, and from that moment on I began creating-- not waiting for life to happen.

I refuse to sleep through the next 40 years. I'm just going to take little naps (forty winks), so that I don't miss a thing in the new world I'm designing.

Read the '40 Winks' blog each month to share in my journey as a 40-something single mom in the suburbs. (It's like Sex and the City minus the city and the sex.)