why didn’t anybody ever tell me about fifty?
Last week I turned fifty years old. Honestly, the past few weeks I've been processing a lot of grief over how I imagined I'd celebrate my birthday this year, and reality crashing into that idea. I spent my entire year at 39 stressing about turning forty. In fact, I really feel like I didn't live that year at all; I was in some kind of suspended animation. I vowed I would spend forty-nine looking forward to turning fifty but still enjoying being forty-nine. For the most part, I did.
I wonder if everybody feels like it’s amazing that they made it to fifty years old once they reach that age? I wish I could talk to my grandparents about it. I wish they would laugh at me for saying such ridiculous things out loud.
I wonder if it’s normal to turn fifty and wonder why nobody told you that it’s great? I love being fifty years old. I love surprising people when I tell them I’m fifty. I'm telling you now, in case a big birthday is looming, to find some friends who will tell you how wonderful it feels to have reached X age, and how much fun they're having.
I love having lived so many lives in my fifty years that I have stories enough for many more lifetimes, and yet I still get to live more moments, more life, more stories. I have so many plans for the upcoming year and I'm still learning new things, either completely new, or new things about what I already know. I just completed an in-depth study of clothing sizing and am developing some theories about how we might be able to grade clothing (making different sizes) from a more shape-based approach than a size-based approach, because there are different body shapes at every single size.
I continue to make new friends, thankfully. I went to a workshop on Friday with my friend Emily, where we brought a photo of ourselves, and then we'd write some poetry. I'm not a poet. Pretty sure Emily doesn't consider herself a poet either, but she won this workshop and was invited to bring a friend. I'm so grateful she chose me. Judy Lee facilitated the workshop and Judy is pure magic, so a little poem came out anyway. There was no time frame or design brief given regarding the photo, other than it had to be of ourselves and it had to be meaningful. Emily and I both brought black and white photos, Each of our photos were taken around the turn of the millennium. I loved the strange synchronicity of our choices. Here's mine:
I remember this 30-year old me like it was yesterday, and I wish I could go back and tell her so many things. I'll wager she could teach me a few things as well. But I don't want to be that age again. I like where I am. I like fifty.
I always say about my children (any children, really) that I love every age. Why haven't I thought about loving every age of me, too? It's never too late to start, so I'm looking forward what unfolds for me at this age, now, and what kinds of magic I can make with whatever appears in my life.
I do know I'll continue to expand my heart again and again and again. Unbothered, unfiltered. I was starting to type unafraid, but that's not true. I'm brave, though, and you cannot be brave if you don't have any fears.
Finally, I didn’t know I would still feel so young. I feel wise in one moment and naïve in the next, and I’m okay with that.
I woke up with wild witch hair, and I’m embracing it. I am a wild witch, after all.
