![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
On turning 40
Society expects a lot of one; that's pretty much the whole point of society. In the case of my society this includes the expectation that the idea of reaching the age of 40 is to be greeted with horror (particularly by females). One must have a to-do list for each milestone. Everyone is expected to reach 40 or 50, with 60 being not unreasonable, 70 quite likely, and 80 a reasonable achievement.
It first struck me that I would turn 40 one day shortly after the birth of Eldest Genetic Niece, some 18 years ago. At the time it seemed inconceivable that this tiny person would turn 18 at around the same time that I would turn 40. Me turning 40 was by no means a difficult concept, and I didn't think that I would change that much. Whether I have or have not changed much in that time is open to interpretation. But 18 years would make an enormous change in little S. It certainly has and it's been a joy to watch.
I maintained a somewhat blithe confidence in the inevitability of big birthdays until I lost my brother to cancer. He was *terribly* keen to hang on until his 50th birthday, but lost the fight in 2008 some 10 weeks short. Birthdays figured large - I last saw him on the evening of my 38th birthday, and he passed the next morning. We'd been having "practice" birthdays with him for a couple of weeks, just in case, and I was happy to share mine with him as another placeholder.
From the day he died he got younger. He'd always been 12 years older than me, but now he's frozen in time he's only 10 years older than me. Soon I will join him in the same decade for the first time ever. It's 8 years since I share a decade with Husband, and 6 1/2 since I shared one with a sibling. Soon we will be all in our 40s, and I see that as a bonding thing. This state of affairs will only last for 6 months, working on the assumption that Eldest Sister will turn 50 safely.
So there are memories, and numbers.
None of the females in my clan have been particularly concerned about fighting the signs of aging. Our tendecy to look younger than our actual ages used to cause problems for some. There's been an effort to cover up grey hair, sure, although I quite like mine. It's like tinsel. And in general my friends are not the type to fear the passage of time. I've had reason to notice the ticking of the biological clock (babies EVERYWHERE), but I haven't felt moved to race it.
But people who don't know me seem to think that turning 40 is a fearsome prospect, and since one's birthdate seems to be required for any and all administrivia, it's come up quite a few times. The first response to this information is inevitably "OMG How do you feel?" And after a while, mud sticks. Perhaps I should be anxious? I found myself becoming anxious, but for a while I couldn't really understand why. I WANTED to turn 40. It was a privilege; not everyone gets to do it and I wasn't about to take it for granted. I'm looking forward to the idea of growing old as disgracefully as possible.
Eventually it occurred to me that I was reacting to the fuss and stress and emphasis on my brother reaching the age of 50. I decided to deal with it by simply acknowledging it: it's perfectly reasonable to feel those pressures, and I'm not going to fight the contradictory thoughts. I'm more than happy to turn 40, but it's OK to feel a little sad that not everyone makes it to all their milestones.
FWIW my shrink agrees.
PS: OK, maybe having promised myself that I would have a birthday party every ten years has been preying on my mind a bit, but having had a couple of social practice runs with StephCon1 that's no longer quite so frightening.
It first struck me that I would turn 40 one day shortly after the birth of Eldest Genetic Niece, some 18 years ago. At the time it seemed inconceivable that this tiny person would turn 18 at around the same time that I would turn 40. Me turning 40 was by no means a difficult concept, and I didn't think that I would change that much. Whether I have or have not changed much in that time is open to interpretation. But 18 years would make an enormous change in little S. It certainly has and it's been a joy to watch.
I maintained a somewhat blithe confidence in the inevitability of big birthdays until I lost my brother to cancer. He was *terribly* keen to hang on until his 50th birthday, but lost the fight in 2008 some 10 weeks short. Birthdays figured large - I last saw him on the evening of my 38th birthday, and he passed the next morning. We'd been having "practice" birthdays with him for a couple of weeks, just in case, and I was happy to share mine with him as another placeholder.
From the day he died he got younger. He'd always been 12 years older than me, but now he's frozen in time he's only 10 years older than me. Soon I will join him in the same decade for the first time ever. It's 8 years since I share a decade with Husband, and 6 1/2 since I shared one with a sibling. Soon we will be all in our 40s, and I see that as a bonding thing. This state of affairs will only last for 6 months, working on the assumption that Eldest Sister will turn 50 safely.
So there are memories, and numbers.
None of the females in my clan have been particularly concerned about fighting the signs of aging. Our tendecy to look younger than our actual ages used to cause problems for some. There's been an effort to cover up grey hair, sure, although I quite like mine. It's like tinsel. And in general my friends are not the type to fear the passage of time. I've had reason to notice the ticking of the biological clock (babies EVERYWHERE), but I haven't felt moved to race it.
But people who don't know me seem to think that turning 40 is a fearsome prospect, and since one's birthdate seems to be required for any and all administrivia, it's come up quite a few times. The first response to this information is inevitably "OMG How do you feel?" And after a while, mud sticks. Perhaps I should be anxious? I found myself becoming anxious, but for a while I couldn't really understand why. I WANTED to turn 40. It was a privilege; not everyone gets to do it and I wasn't about to take it for granted. I'm looking forward to the idea of growing old as disgracefully as possible.
Eventually it occurred to me that I was reacting to the fuss and stress and emphasis on my brother reaching the age of 50. I decided to deal with it by simply acknowledging it: it's perfectly reasonable to feel those pressures, and I'm not going to fight the contradictory thoughts. I'm more than happy to turn 40, but it's OK to feel a little sad that not everyone makes it to all their milestones.
FWIW my shrink agrees.
PS: OK, maybe having promised myself that I would have a birthday party every ten years has been preying on my mind a bit, but having had a couple of social practice runs with StephCon1 that's no longer quite so frightening.
no subject
no subject
Steph, I was very 'Look out the window darling, can you see the buzzards circling' for that day and about six months past! However 42 has been passed blithely, apart from the ongoing wanting another baby but not being able to afford to problem. That's not birthday stuff but life stuff though. I think I've generally got some perspective - but I wasn't as mature as you as forty and lacked your damn good sense! Starting to get there....