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I turn 40 in 6 weeks time. How do I feel about it? Well, I’m certainly in a better place than I was at 30. The past ten years have been pretty eventful. The cliche, an emotional roller coaster, would just about sum it up. This could end up being a long post. I’ve been toying with the idea of blogging for some time, partly to vent, partly to get feelings out of my head, so here goes!

At 30 I was desperately trying to make an unhappy marriage work. My then husband of seven years was going through what I can only assume was a mid-life crisis (he was older). When he wasn’t plugged into the computer playing fantasy role games, he wanted to be out with his much younger work colleagues every weekend, drinking until the early hours and sleeping through most of the next day. Something he never had any apparent desire to do in the early years of our relationship when we were enthusiastically making our home. Our holidays were dominated by visits from his daughter from a previous relationship who lived at the other end of the country with her mother. A situation that I was never completely comfortable with, but accepted as part of the package. In my late 20s I had started to have feelings that I may be ready to consider having a baby. All my close friends were doing it (best friend twice during that time), and although I had never considered myself the maternal type, my hormones were in overdrive and I started to feel quite panicky that time was ticking by. In earlier years we’d discussed the idea of having kids and he’d always said we’d go for it when I felt ready. I told him I thought I was and to my shock he said he didn’t want another child. What he really meant was he didn’t want a child with me. To say I was gutted doesn’t come close. He should have just left me then, but no, we struggled on for another two years before his unsociable behaviour finally prompted me to demand he tell me what his plans were. Two days before Christmas he admitted that he planned to leave me in the New Year. Awesome.

At 32 I was suddenly single for the first time in ten years, in a complete state of panic, desperate to hang on to my home (I did), but scared to death of being on my own in it. I was in a stressful management job and petrified that I’d be alone forever. New Years day saw my absolute lowest mood. Staying with my father over the holiday period I completely lost the plot. I was completely wretched. After being prescribed Valium and Prozac I found the strength to go home, get back to work and start dealing with the practicalities of the break up. Something my ex was clearly put out about. He obviously expected me to curl up and give up. But my low point was also my turning point – the only way was up. I took control and started to get things sorted.

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Turning 40 was actually kind of fun, but only because I had just recovered from a long term injury, so my predominant feeling was one of achievement – “Not dead yet!” Now that I’ve returned to a more normal state of health, I’m back to noticing how many of my goals I haven’t yet accomplished, as well as all those new lines in the mirror. I think I’m more scared to be 41, which will happen in about 2 months.

My main problem is I cannot seem to figure out how to grow up. When I was growing up, grown ups seemed really different- like grown ups. I looked up to my teachers, I basically thought they were gods. I never even imagined being in their position. Now, it seems my life is steering me to become a teacher, like there is no other choice. And I’m terrified.

On the inside, part of me feels exactly the same now as I did at age 11, age 19, age 26, age 32. Doesn’t everyone experience this? like, the only thing that’s changing is some body parts, but on the inside….the same. In fact, I feel younger than ever, as if I could be 8 years old again.

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When I was nearing my 29th birthday I couldn’t cope – I was only a year away from 30! I was a new mum (my son was 18 months old), working two days a week and forgetting who I was.

Turning 35 was even harder, I felt old… but what I really was – uninspired, in a rut, stay at home mum to 2 gorgeous children, in a groundhog day part-time job.

Don’t get me wrong, now on the eve of turning 40 I can look back at the past decade, in particular, with a sense of clarity.

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I legally turn 40 in 26 minutes. I should be asleep, but I can’t seem to stop reflecting on my life. Every time I close my eyes, flashes of my past haunt me.

While today is not my birthday, I thought that I’d hear from someone. My birthday is on a Monday and I know no one will want to do anything then. My wife thought about having a party, but I guess that’s not going to happen either. My 40th birthday eve is lonely indeed.

And where am I at 40? When i was 30, I was in the local newspaper listed as a “mover and shaker”. Young. Thirty was young. Now I’m at the age where I see people younger than me in leadership positions, while I stay where I am. I haven’t written my novel yet. I haven’t published much writing. I haven’t surpassed my dreams.

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When I was growing up, I had a vision of what life would be like when I turned 40. I was successful and lived in a cozy house by the beach, but that is where my vision stopped. I turned 40 today, and I have that house…a block from the beach (through very hard work and a lot of serendipity), but I also have so much more than I could have ever imagined.

I have my true love by my side and have had him there for the last 20 years. I have the neatest 4 year old in the world, who turned our life upside down in the best possible way. I have amazing friends, who really understand me, and threw me the perfect low key, but truly special party last night. I also have a true understanding and acceptance of who I am, and with this knowledge, I have a peace that wasn’t even possible in my teens, 20’s or 30’s. In short, I have love in abundance. So instead of feeling remotely bad about being 40, I feel grateful that I have such a wonderful life and happy to see what the future holds.

By Karen A. Chase

Author of Bonjour 40: A Paris travel log

(40 years. 40 days. 40 seconds)

Why is it that turning 40 is supposed to be a bad thing? I know a lot of women curl up in the fetal position over it, but for me, it was a chance to do something I’d always longed to do. Live in Paris. For a month. I’ve made choices throughout my life that made this moment possible, but what made it feasible was simply that I planned to do it. When I turned 39, I said I’d go to Paris for my fortieth, and so I spent the year preparing to accomplish just that.

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It’s 10:58 and I turn 40 in an hour and two minutes. I can’t sleep becasue I have mixed emotions about turning 40. I am by no means a writer, but I think spilling my guts out about my feelings will help me deal with them. I thought this day would be different. I certaintly don’t feel 40, and people tell me I look a lot younger. That’s encouraging. Apparently this is a milestone birthday. In the back of my mind I secretly wanted a suprise party (never had one) or the talk of all my friends – I know that is so selfish of me. I’m just being honest. Frankly, I don’t think it’s a big deal to anyone but me. Tomorrow will pass and I will be forty years old.

I did have a revelation though. I put too much focus on other people making me happy. From this day forward, I will put my trust in the Lord and not in people. After all, God is the only on in my life that has never broken His promise that He will never leave me. So, tomorrow I will reflect on the forty years that God has blessed me with, and share my day with Him.

Via Never Picture Perfect: This is my last day in the decade of my 30′s. Yes, the irony or humor of turning forty on Thanksgiving is not lost on me:). I used to think 40 was so old. Silly me. In some ways, I don’t feel much older than I did when I was in my twenties. I mean, I have a more settled feeling now, and in the last year my body has reminded me I’m not twenty any more. Twelve hour shifts at the hospital leave me really tired. My feet hurt on a regular basis and I use a mountain of pillows to position myself comfortably in bed. That’s all kind of different. But me, myself–my soul doesn’t feel old.

Our pastor usually points out the significance of any numbers used in the Bible passage we are studying. God is a God of order and purpose and has significance in all that He does, even the numbers. I thought I’d look up 40 to see what meaning it has in the Bible. After reading several websites (with a grain of salt of course), the consensus seems to be that forty is the number that symbolizes a trial. It’s a number used a lot in both Old and New Testament–it rained forty days during the flood, Moses was 40 years in Egypt, 40 in Midian, and led the people in the wilderness for 40 years as well. He was on the mountain receiving the Law from God (twice).  There are forty years of “probation” under trials, under enlarged dominion (David and Solomon), under prosperity (Gideon), under humiliation (under Saul and the Philistines). Jesus was tempted for forty days and seen by his disciples for forty days after his resurrection. Lots of 40′s.

SO what does this mean? Ummm…I don’t really know. Perhaps the first 40 years were probation or testing to get me ready for the next 40? Maybe. I’m sure it doesn’t mean the testing is over:). It’s certainly been a busy 40 years. I became a believer in Jesus, graduated high school and college, got married, had four kids. Walked with my husband through the trials of infertility, miscarriage, job loss.

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Via Dillard 57: This year was a big birthday, a life turning point. Moreover, I’m not the type of person who keeps her age a secret. I don’t care if people know my age, and I don’t feel shame about my age. I think getting older is ok. So turning 40 was not a secret, nor was it a birthday I particularly felt I needed to celebrate in a big way. I told family and friends that I have gotten so much love and support and generosity with my wedding and the birth of the Peanut, that I did not need any more parties or presents. I celebrated with Mr. Right on the day, and then the next day both me and the Peanut were sick so we laid pretty low. Whoopee! We are Party People.

Being the overly introspective type, nonetheless, this landmark birthday does give me pause.What does it mean to turn 40? What does it mean to move into this new decade? I didn’t want to let this one go by without a good ponder. And my dear friend Tina feels like I am some sort of trailblazer as I am a year older than her to the week, and one year older as a momma. She called me last night to remind me that I had not yet shared my musings. I was so honored that she even wanted to hear them that I am trying to oblige her now.

I asked a few of my personal trailblazers: how was or is the 40^th decade? And what was your favorite decade? I received the expected mix of answers, but almost all of them asserted that the 40s are a good decade, a year of coming into to your power as a woman, especially. I like that.By 40, you finally feel confident enough of yourself to be yourself. And to like yourself. And to know what you need and when you need it and then go and get it. I like all of this. I can see why it would be true.

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Via Futnani.com: I reached out to my 2 closest childhood friends last week and made a pact with them – that when we turn 40, we are going to take an epic trip. We haven’t decided where to go – after all, there are 7 years left before we need to make up our mind – but its going to comprise places that we have always wanted to go – but could not – because it was too far, or it was not possible to take the kids, or it was too expensive, or some other such practical reason.

This experience is going to take both time and money. By blocking 3 weeks on our calenders (on google / iCloud – our existing computers / smartphones will be obsolete by then), 7 years in advance, we wont have any excuses to spare 3 weeks. In terms of money, we’re all setting up SIPs and putting away $100 a month from now – a number small enough that it wont pinch but enough to add-up to something significant given the mathematical effect of compounding. In short, we wont have any reasonable excuses to pull out of the trip when the time comes. Places that may feature on the list are Tierra del Fuego, the Galapagos Islands, Mongolia and Beirut.

When I look back at my life, a few key key moments that come to mind – my first trip to London en-route to College, my week at a youth hostel in southern Spain, re-living ‘Lost in Translation’ in Tokyo, a polo lesson in Buenos Aires, counting Zebras in Kenya. With work-related pressures and a second child on the way, it seems like life is going by way too quickly and there is little time for gathering more of those stellar memories that frequently punctuated the earlier years of my life. The idea is, I guess, to go into our forties with a 3 weeks of mad memories. Look out for the photos in 7 years…

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Via Yo Mama: No one eats the first half of an Oreo, looks down and sees the creamy middle, and thinks, Screw this—it’s old.  I’m gonna throw it out and go watch me some MacGyver.  No one reads the first half of a book and abandons it, not for lack of time or interest in the plot or characters, but simply because the middle is already old news.  No one, anywhere, decides that the middle is an inch or two shy of the end.  Unless they’re discussing age.

If you read in a book or a story that a character is middle-aged, don’t you just see the slump in his shoulders, the frown on her face?  The baggy clothes and general air of despair at the middleness of it all?  No one wants to admit to being middle-aged, and I don’t blame us—the way our culture sees it, you might as well be saying you’re old.  And the way we see “old” in our culture?  Don’t even get me started.  Because I’m not gonna want to be old when I’m old.  Oh, I’m not planning to wear short shorts at eighty.  But I refuse to have slumpy shoulders and baggy clothes and an air of despair, even when I’m old.  I’m sure as hell not going to have those things today.

Today, you see, this subject matters to me quite a bit.  Because today I am turning forty.  Not twenty-nine for the eleventh year in a row, but really and truly, right in the thick of the plot, staring at the middle of the Oreo forty.

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Via Zenhabits.com by Leo Babauta

I don’t have health insurance, so I have a big investment in staying healthy.

And so I did a little research today — I found the top causes of death, then created a spreadsheet for the controllable risk factors for each.

Some things can’t be controlled (your age, family history of diseases, gender). But others can. And those things aren’t a huge surprise — you already know not to smoke, drink too much, or eat crappily.

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Via She Knows.com by Joanna Mazewski: Teresa Giudice first made waves when she famously went off on her Real Housewives of New Jersey Season 1 co-star Danielle Staub, and while she is no longer flipping tables at dinner parties, she has instead used all that energy in writing bestselling cookbooks, selling her own line of cosmetics at CVS stores and starring in multiple reality television shows.

Giudice, who has four daughters with her husband Joe — Gia, 10, Gabriella, 7, Milania, 5, and Audriana, 2 — says that she simply doesn’t have time for negative energy in her life, including the gossip rumors about her and her Real Housewives cast mates. Instead she prefers to focus on her family and her career.

With so much going on for her right now, including juggling her career and taking time out to spend with her family, Giudice says she doesn’t even have the time to sleep. “I can sleep when my kids are gone and gown. For now, I’m up with them in the morning, I send them to school, I work out with Audriana at the gym, then I work, run errands, work some more, pick the kids up for school, make dinner help them with their homework. Joe and I get alone time once they’re in bed,” she said.

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