forty
Four days from now is my fortieth birthday, and I feel.....several ways about that.
This birthday looms larger on the horizon than past birthdays. I suppose that's true for many people, but I have not generally been fazed by the numbers on the calendar, so it feels weird to be fretting about it.
Part of the weird is that Adam was forty when he died. Forty feels dangerous. Like standing close to the cliff edge. Like my past proximity to catastrophe makes me a likelier target. Like unexpected tragedy could strike my forty because it struck his. I know it's not rational, but some friends have said they felt a similar disorientation when they reached the age at which a parent had died in the prime of life, so I also know it's normal.
Part of the weird is that forty seems like a Decidedly Adult Age, and I still don't have a Real Job. It is a known fact that a year from now I will not have the job I currently have because my non-renewable contract will have ended. Given the job market in my chosen field I may not even have the same career a year from now. So I feel definitely Not Yet Adult. I crave the stability rejected by the stereo-typical mid-life crisis.
I crave stability because I've done that reinvention already. My mid-life crisis came with widowhood at thirty-four, when circumstances forced me to make all the choices again.
I wish to be done radically reinventing my life.
This birthday looms larger on the horizon than past birthdays. I suppose that's true for many people, but I have not generally been fazed by the numbers on the calendar, so it feels weird to be fretting about it.
Part of the weird is that Adam was forty when he died. Forty feels dangerous. Like standing close to the cliff edge. Like my past proximity to catastrophe makes me a likelier target. Like unexpected tragedy could strike my forty because it struck his. I know it's not rational, but some friends have said they felt a similar disorientation when they reached the age at which a parent had died in the prime of life, so I also know it's normal.
Part of the weird is that forty seems like a Decidedly Adult Age, and I still don't have a Real Job. It is a known fact that a year from now I will not have the job I currently have because my non-renewable contract will have ended. Given the job market in my chosen field I may not even have the same career a year from now. So I feel definitely Not Yet Adult. I crave the stability rejected by the stereo-typical mid-life crisis.
I crave stability because I've done that reinvention already. My mid-life crisis came with widowhood at thirty-four, when circumstances forced me to make all the choices again.
I wish to be done radically reinventing my life.
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