Tomorrow, I turn 50.
My dear Loyal Readers know I'm obsessed with my birthday. I would blog a month ahead - thoughts on getting older, my wish list, etc etc etc! But this year, I surprised myself by not being my usual self. I haven't thought much about this crazy life milestone at all. How odd!
I should. Fifty is huge. Especially since I never thought I was going to live beyond my 30s. I was a very sickly child. That's why I was so driven to achieve everything on my life list by the time I turned 30. And I did. And then life became even so much better. I got married. I had babies. I got healthier. I had a career pivot. It's been amazing, these last 20 years.
So why does this birthday feel quiet?
I'm not ungrateful. In fact, I feel profoundly grateful for my life. I think I just want to be quiet and alone with the gravity of this birthday. I've done a lot. I still want to do more... but what? I have led a life of blessings, so how can I be a blessing to others? I am on the brink of sending my children off to the world, so all I know of motherhood is changing. I have been with the same man for nearly 30 years, what is next for us?
I am standing at a threshold, looking back at the life I've lived, looking at the life that's coming, and realizing that I need a moment to take it all in. And, boy, it's been a lot!
At 50, I'm confronting the sobering thought that I don't have much time left. I see my parents' lifespans as having suddenly become possible measuring sticks for my own. I am grappling with the realization that the years I once thought were limitless are now countable. My mother died at 63. That's 13 years from now. My father died at 74. That's 24 years from now. How many years do I have left? When you're 30 and contemplating 60, 70, 80, the years stretch beyond imagination. But when you're 50, suddenly, death is visible. And strangely enough, death feels like someone just beyond my sight, but I can feel it waiting, like how I feel when I'm in the taxi, about to meet a friend.
A couple of months ago, I thought I had a heart attack. My husband rushed me to the ER. I was very calm. Having spent my childhood and early adulthood being rushed to ERs, the trip felt familiar. But this time, I was consumed with one thought: I didn't say goodbye to my children. Should I have told them? We hadn't because we didn't want them to be scared. But if I die, I wouldn't have told them I loved them. But they know, I argued with myself as my heart pounded away. But I don't think I can ever say it enough, I argued back.
Thankfully, I had nothing to worry about. It was just really bad acid reflux. I was sent home with a boring diet plan and strict instructions to take care of myself. And I have been eating better for the most part, exercising, and praying and meditating a lot. I honestly feel the healthiest I've ever been!
And yet... 50. I don't want to die. But I don't want to live past 80 either. Just being practical here. If I retire at 60, how do we finance the next 20 years? I don't want to depend on my children.
Speaking of them, as much as I love my sons, I don't want them sticking around. I want them out of my house and conquering the world. That's why I was such a protective mama bear, because from the moment I held each baby in my arms, I knew I was preparing to let them go when they're 25. I have 25 years, I told myself as I cradled them, I was going to make the most of it. And now, that life marker is almost visible. And while there is a bittersweet emotion of letting go, I am also anticipating it. A new me is on the horizon. Who will I be when the kids leave the nest? There is a certainty in my bones that she will be the best version of me yet, and she is waiting for me. I can almost see her.
So there. Thoughts before I turn 50!
I am saying goodbye to several versions of myself and getting ready to meet new ones. I have always known who I am and what I wanted to be. But I have lived long enough to know that life surprises you, and you become a person you never expected you'd be. The fact that I'm a happy wife and devoted mama still astonishes me, to be honest. Even after all these years, it's still a surprise.
I was never a fan of surprises. I have always coldly calculated my next move. And then now, at 50, I don't know what to do with the rest of my life. My prayers are always about this. And for once, I am settling around the thought that it's okay not to have all the answers. I haven't decided yet if that's peaceful or chaotic. Perhaps it's the unfamiliar experience of having nothing you urgently need to prove. I've spent so much of my life becoming someone. Maybe 50 is where I get to discover who I really am when I'm no longer racing toward the next thing.
So tomorrow! I don't know what we'll do tomorrow. I know I want chocolate cake. That's it. But I still don't know how to celebrate such a juggernaut of a year. It lies heavy on my soul, but not with despair or regret. My body is thrumming, nerves singing, breathing a bit erratic, like how you'd feel when you're waiting in the wings and about to step into the spotlight. I am gathering my thoughts. I am collecting all the pieces of me. And when I step out finally, I don't know yet what I will find.
That is why I'm quiet.
And I think that's okay.
