Very recently, I turned 40 years old. I prefer to think of myself as a “fledgling 40″ spreading my ever so lightly dusted grey wings, maybe not soaring as high as the other chickadees but still holding my own. Gradually I am owning up to my status as a middle-aged woman. I am learning to graciously accept the “yes, mam” that have replaced the “dear” and “miss.” These days, I religiously slather on sun-screen even in the dead of winter, strap myself into a major support bra and color my hair, ever six weeks. There are some days I feel more like 80 years old with my Fibromyalgia, but I can still joke like a child, laugh at knock-knock jokes and look not too shabby with some cover-up and mascara.

Yet, the weeks, days, hours and seconds leading up to that epic birthday were not pleasant. I admit there were repeated bouts of hysteria, rants about intrusive gray hairs and more than a few tears. But I survived. It was all storm before the calm. The morning after the big day I fell into an emotionally serene cocoon – wow, I thought “I’m 40!” I was officially a “Cougar” with a license to leer at younger men! Woo Hoo. Well, maybe I would pass on the leering.

But I did feel different. I still felt a little like that naive, introverted 20 year old I will always harbor inside, but she was more like an echo. I was owning up to my life experience and felt wiser. I also felt relieved. All those years of making blind choices, learning and growing from my mistakes, going down winding paths, then finally arriving here with a sense of relief and understanding. It is not that I will never get lost again, but I am now better equipped for the journey. I have also realized that I have no regrets – every decision and action has brought me here to my family and I am blessed.

So, as I settle into this new persona, I am ready … Bring it on!

More from Elizabeth at http://www.asofawithaview.blogspot.com