39 years and 51 weeks

So, this time next week, I will have turned 40 years old. For me, this is a big deal. Why? I don't exactly know. It didn't bother me in the slightest turning 30 or 35. They were merely numbers to me, which had no significance or meaning whatsoever. Just another birthday, to be enjoyed and celebrated. But, for some reason, the number 40 has bugged me for the last year. Turning 40 feels significant.

For the last 12 months, I have had various thoughts and ideas on how my 40th should be celebrated. A week in Paris? Not so romantic with two small children. A tropical cruise with my nearest and dearest? Not everyone can afford it, or want to do it. Some time alone, at a retreat? Seems isolating and lonely. Botox? Too vain. And painful. Dancing and drinking all night in the city? Been there and done that. A big, raucous party? I don't actually know enough people to have a big, raucous party. And even if I did, I wouldn't want to partake of big and raucous.

You name it, I've considered it.

I have wracked my brain, trying to come up with something amazing and fabulous to celebrate the fact that I am turning 40 years old.

Why?

Because, at 40, you are meant to have your shit together. You are meant to have sorted out where you are heading. To have purchased a house. To have accumulated a wide circle of interesting and interested friends. To feel whole. Settled. Be sensible. Committed.

And yet, I have achieved precious few of these things I've listed. I rent. I have a very small circle of people I love and trust. I often feel unsettled and uncertain. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. I think it's a midwife, but I'm not 100% sure. I like the principles of Buddhism, but I'm not committed enough to call myself a Buddhist. There at least 20 countries I'd visit tomorrow if I could. I haven't written a single sentence of the book I've promised myself I'd write for the last 20 or so years. I meditate a few times a year rather than every day. I drink too much and eat too much crap. I don't move enough.

But- I have quit smoking. I run! I am practising yoga more regularly and it feels right. I am not afraid to express my opinion or thoughts. I know that perfection is a myth and that sunshine on my skin feels great. That focusing on my breath in troubled times centre's me. That my children are my greatest source of joy and happiness and that they enrich my life in a way that nothing else does. They fill my heart and soothe my soul.

I am turning 40. My thirties meant pregnancy, babies, family, sacrifice, patience, change. Moving from being a single to a couple to a family. Transitioning from impatient idealist to rational realist with one eye on the inspired and impossible.

Here's to my last week of being 30 something.