The Magic of Turning 40

I feel like something about this past year was magical. People tell you once you turn 40 you stop caring so much about what other people say and think of you. For me, it was so beyond that. It was a year in which I lost a lot of “friends” and personal relationships. In which people who I thought were friends would send me stuff like telling me I air my dirty laundry… which in case you didn’t know is pretty much the Southern euphemism for calling someone trash.

I’ve typically found that the more others are upset by what I’ve got to say, then I’m likely doing something right. When I speak up about past abuses and mistreatment, it’s a way to not just heal from it all but also possibly help someone else. The more women are discouraged from sharing these things, then the easier it is for these types of abuses to happen. Your story might help someone else. Don’t be afraid to share it!

We live in times in which so many people only share the good- there was even a time in which the general online criticism was that so much positivity was toxic:

No matter what someone is going to criticize you and disagree with you. Especially if you are someone like me who chooses to make a living in this online world. I’m a single mom- I have to find other ways to make an income for my children outside of just my day to day paycheck. So that means opening myself up to drama and critique outside of just my day to day. So if you’re like me….

There’s going to be a lot of people who don’t like you. (That’s ok, you probably don’t like them either.)

There’s going to be a lot of people who misunderstand you- especially on the internet. Let them. (If nothing else it’s good for your algorithm.)

(If @HonestTeacherVibes gets haters in her comments and she’s one of my favorites then I can handle it too! And she’s one of my favorites.)

There’s going to be people who befriend you for the wrong reasons… it’s ok! Once you know, then let them go. Or even if you never know and they leave on their own… let them.

This was the year in which I saw Barbie with my daughter and came away with a greater appreciation for what we women go through. America Ferrara’s monologue struck me at my absolute core:

“It is literally impossible to be a woman. You are so beautiful, and so smart, and it kills me that you don’t think you’re good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow we’re always doing it wrong. 

You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin. You have to say you want to be healthy, but also you have to be thin. You have to have money, but you can’t ask for money because that’s crass. You have to be a boss, but you can’t be mean. You have to lead, but you can’t squash other people’s ideas. You’re supposed to love being a mother, but don’t talk about your kids all the damn time. You have to be a career woman but also always be looking out for other people. 

You have to answer for men’s bad behavior, which is insane, but if you point that out, you’re accused of complaining. You’re supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you’re supposed to be a part of the sisterhood.

But always stand out and always be grateful. But never forget that the system is rigged. So find a way to acknowledge that but also always be grateful. 

You have to never get old, never be rude, never show off, never be selfish, never fall down, never fail, never show fear, never get out of line. It’s too hard! It’s too contradictory and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you! And it turns out in fact that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also everything is your fault. 

I’m just so tired of watching myself and every single other woman tie herself into knots so that people will like us. And if all of that is also true for a doll just representing women, then I don’t even know.”

America ferrara as gloria in “barbie”

I remember even seeing a girl who I thought hated me in middle school share the monologue to her social media- and it made me feel empathy for her that I never had before. Not long ago she and I were seated next to each other at an event and had such a brief conversation that I’m sure it didn’t really register with her but for me, it was healing. We were just two women sharing a moment.

If there’s nothing else I’ve gained from this year it’s a deeper tie with God. It’s that people come and go and things happen in our lives and it can and will break your heart. But in order to go on, to pick oneself up, for me I find a meaning in it all. Call it toxic positivity if you want, but it works for me.

I am a person who is fearfully and wonderfully made- and so are you. And you, and you. Even if you hate me, even if you wish me harm or to others- you are fearfully and Wonderfully made. I wonder how many of the worlds problems would go away if were truly believed that about ourselves and each other? Perhaps we would actually lend a hand to those in need without wondering if they would take from us. Perhaps we would be less focused on power.

This was also the birthday in which people I did not expect left me birthday wishes on Facebook (that’s one big thing that I think Facebook gets right)… but also those who I had hoped to hear from were absent.

This was also the year in which I was asked to step away from a volunteer position because the women involved said that the fact that I was pursuing my PhD meant that I would be too busy… shocking for me given that this is an organization that prides itself on being focused on women’s improvement. For my own improvement to then be used against me…. well, it just shows those people weren’t for me. And I’ve accepted that. It doesn’t mean it hurts any less, and that’s also ok.

I found myself getting more and more involved in my church, even considering ordination before settling in on another role.

40 was a year of many changes, and I think I’ve accepted that every year will likely be that way. I am constantly emerging from the cocoon, evolving into a better and brighter butterfly.