Notes from the Becoming: Over the Hill
Life isn't a destination you arrive at. It's the hill you've been climbing all along.
When I was a young teenager, my mom turned 40. The whole ordeal was a spectacle. Throughout the day, the house filled with black roses, black balloons, and party supplies donning the phrase over the hill. The experience both frightened and thrilled me.
On one hand, I thought I was about to lose my mother to old age and imminent death before I left the house. My young mind didn’t understand the joke. It clearly set the belief that 40 was…old.
On the other hand, I was absolutely thrilled that, as an adult, you finally reach a point of “making it.” Up til then, life felt hard, yes, even as a child. Constantly battling uphill by navigating borderline poverty, parents who hated each other, and always absent from my life. All the while balancing a seemingly normal life at school through getting good grades and trying to hide as much as possible that I was from the have-not crowd.
The message was clear to me then: you work hard enough, deal with adversity, and you will arrive at old age (40) wiser, smarter, and have more fun. A rite of passage. How did I come to this conclusion? I assumed it was because everyone was happy she turned 40. There was a party. A celebration for days. I also did not have a trusted adult in my life to ask questions about such a bizarre ritual. So, the belief grew roots.
Then, several years ago, it was my turn to roll the calendar forward to the age of 40. Even in my adult, logical mind, I still held the belief that when I hit that magical number, I would, in some way, feel different.
But I didn’t.
I slightly panicked because I was secretly banking on the fact that I would wake up in my forties and finally feel wise, smart, and have a lot more fun. What I learned instead is exactly why people go through a midlife crisis! Instead of feeling the jubilation for the rite, I instead fell flat. Defeated, I knew that things were the same, and I was still stuck.
Everything about my identity came into question. My existence was unsteady, and turning 40 only made me feel worse. I understood the black balloons and black roses. I mourned for a life I failed to build.
Grappling with this conundrum and being slightly agitated at my mother for never explaining it to me, I went in search of meaning. I spent the entire year of my 40th doing 40 things that I felt would fill my cup. I wrote letters of gratitude, took trips, roller-skated for the first time in years, and had a dance party. While everything I chose to engage in was thrilling, it didn’t alleviate the pain I was feeling.
I didn’t need an entertainment bandaid; I needed a lifestyle change. A change in values and beliefs. I needed to set boundaries and let go of people who were holding me back. A daunting venture, at best, and I had no idea what to do. Then, I picked up a copy of Glennon Doyle’s Untamed, and I quickly discovered the missing link. I had become tame, and I needed to get my wild back. From then on, I invested in the journey with more presence and certainty.
In a couple of months, I’ll be three years shy of 50, and here is what I’ve learned - the smarter and wiser part - we are always evolving. Life is not a destination. We do not wake up when we are 40, 50, or 80 and determine we have made it. The cliche saying that life is a journey is the biggest truth we can ever exist in. We freely waste a lot of time on activities we’d never waste money on. With that view in mind, it certainly lights a fire within us to show up mindfully every. single. day.
Once I started to focus on the journey instead of a fixed point in the future, the not so surprising truth is I finally felt smarter, wiser and, I had a lot more fun. I no longer treat life like a race to the finish line of some arbitrary date. Over the hill indeed! I’m enjoying the lightness of the downhill freedom. Grateful I’ve made it to the other side.
Love,
Abby