On Turning 40 in 2020
A few years ago, someone I admire wrote 40 pieces of advice on her 40th birthday, and I tucked the idea away as something I was definitely going to do when that time approached. But then the last four years happened, and I found myself sitting at the computer at 10:37 the night before my 40th birthday thinking about how I intended to write something as a gift to the people I love, but how I never did carve out the time to do it, and how I also have to homeschool four kids in the morning.
Last January, I was planning a birthday trip with friends. We all have some version of this brand of disappointment, so I won’t expand on the loss of those planned memories. When Scott asked me what I wanted instead, I told him I wanted to be alone.
So that’s his gift to me. I’m going to the woods by myself for the weekend. But let’s be real. It’s more of a Walden situation--did you know Thoreau’s mom did his laundry and made him sandwiches while he was writing those essays? He was a twenty minute walk from his family home. Scott is driving the RV about half an hour from our house for me, and then he’ll come get me two days later. I have two days of teaching and mothering between me and 48 hours of communing with nature (from the comfort of my house on wheels where I can plug in my coffee maker).
Ahem.
So here is your gift? I’m not sure where I’m going with this yet. I’m just going to keep typing until it feels like the end. If it sounds like it came from someone else, it probably did. Part of making it to this moment has been absorbing other people’s wisdom. I didn’t get to any of these conclusions on my own, but also, this isn’t a research paper, and when I tried to give credit by googling things like “Who said the thing about the word ‘should?’” my efforts were fruitless.
One of the less desirable parts of being forty is that I can’t recall who said what when I want to quote those people in epic 40th birthday gift to the world posts. Frankly, I can’t even remember what my husband said five minutes ago when he told me what to add to the Costco list. Here is everything I know:
It’s okay to change your mind about a great idea.
It’s okay to set out to accomplish something without knowing where you’re going.
Sleep cures many ailments—in the head, in the heart, in the body.
There are also many worthwhile reasons to lose sleep—a good book, the need to write something down, new love, old friendships.
No one is the boss of you but you.
If you try to change people, you will waste time and energy. They will be the same, and you will be tired.
When the people in your life show you they have changed, reset your mental picture of them. Do not hold forty-year-old people to their twenty-year-old selves.
Do all the things you have to do and all the things you want to do and none of the things you feel you should do. Get rid of that word, and if you find yourself saying it, don’t do that thing.
Grief is personal and unpredictable.
Grief is communal and amorphous.
Add butter.
If you need to fill the silence, choose The Beatles.
Time is arbitrary. Don’t compare your timeline to anyone else’s.
Found family is one of the best choices you can make over and over again.
Snacks are dinner.
Your body is no one else’s business.
Spend time around kids.
Be mediocre at new things.
Only say yes to things that excite you.
You don’t owe anyone an explanation for your no.
But don’t ghost people who ask you for something. Communicate clearly, and then remind yourself of #20.
Listen.
Listen some more.
Like I’m not sure if you’re just hearing me or if you’re really listening, but I’m asking you nicely to listen.
Give to the things that the people you care about care about. Even if it’s $1.
If you don’t have a dollar, encourage them.
Read.
Audiobooks count as reading. Stop saying they don’t.
Peanut butter cookies might be better than chocolate chip cookies. I will get back to you on this one when I’m fifty because this is one thing about which I’m still doing a lot of research.
Build rest into your life. Take a five minute break every hour. Take one day a week off from obligations. And if you’re lucky to build real vacations into your life, you’ll go because you can and not because you’re so dadgum tired from never resting.
You can do anything for ten seconds. (I know this one—this is Kimmy Schmidt.) Then you just start again when that ten seconds is over.
Don’t buy cars from men who refer to you as your husband’s permission slip.
That last one was a true story and a metaphor.
Take up all the space you need. You deserve to be here just as much as everyone else in the room.
Talk to your grandparents if you have the privilege of having them. If you don’t have any grandparents, find some and claim them as your own. And then practice 22-24.
There is no point in comparing grief. There is no point in judging other people’s grief. There is no point in avoiding the things that cause us grief. Grief is not a placeholder for space between joys. It is the other side of life. Grief and joy. They are a package deal, and they both serve a purpose.
Be careful that you guard your motivations when you see any kind of success. Do not let anyone else define your why.
Don’t be mean.
Forgive anyone who has not left permanent damage. Build healthy boundaries around the people who have left permanent damage. This is different than holding a grudge.
Say “I love you” like you get paid to do it. Because you do--the pay off is priceless.
Add an extra number to lists that are supposed to be a certain number long to make the uptight people squirm and everyone else laugh.
Is that everything I know? No, but it’s everything that popped into my mind between 10:37 and 12:09. And now I’m going to sleep. Thank you for reading. And thank you for teaching me most of the stuff on my list.
40 years, man.