I woke up today when the alarm went off at 7:05am and my husband nudged me to shut it off (I am in charge of the alarm clock so it's on my side of the bed. Just like I am in charge of all household machines like the coffee maker, microwave, vacuum cleaner, dishwasher and washing machine. Georges is in charge of the fun stuff: computers, TVs, radios, iPods and soon, an iPad.) I got up, shuffled off to the kitchen to make breakfast for him and pour coffee for me. We sat down at the table; he ate while I got my daily ass-kicking from this backgammon game on his iPod that seems to have an unfair advantage over the human player, because it wins about 85% of the time. (And yet I keep playing, which shows you what kind of a masochist I can be.) Kids passing through the kitchen looking for coffee, juice, food, then off to school. All life as usual around here at chez Bold Soul for a Wednesday morning.
And then, Georges got up, put his arms around me, kissed me many times, and whispered something in my ear, which I didn't hear at first, so I asked him to repeat it.
"Bon anniversaire, mon amour."
Oh.
OHHHHH.
Oh, shit. It is here. My birthday. The thing I did not even mark on my own calendar. I am [taking deep breath] 49 today. A number that looks even worse in print than it sounds when I say it out loud. I am FORTY-FUCKING-NINE. How the hell did I let THAT happen? Surely, there must be someone I can go to, to demand a recount, right?
Because there is no effing way I am this old. NO WAY. NONE. C'est pas possible.
I am now officially one year away from [lowers voice to a bare whisper]... 50. Which I think Georges is a bit excited about, me joining him in HIS decade for a few years, to keep him company. It doesn't even matter that for the past nine years, no one seems to believe I'm in my 40s when they ask my age. I know I don't look 49. It's not about that. It's the principle of the thing: Who freaking decided I would be 49? And why didn't *I* get a vote?
When I was 29, I didn't mind one bit. I was excited to turn 30. OK, so 31 was a bit rough, because I thought, "Holy shit, now I am OVER 30" and it felt nasty. But I got over it by 32, which was one of my best years, for some reason. 35 wasn't bad at all, and though 36 was a bit bumpy, it was for reasons other than my age (among other things, I broke my leg in 3 places, ended an important relationship, and made the decision to change careers and leave the corporate world completely). 39 didn't freak me out at all. When I turned 40, I softened the blow by making good on a promise to myself, that I would turn 40 in Paris, and despite having been pick-pocketed the day before my birthday while on the metro, it was still a good trip and a great way to celebrate a major milestone birthday. Since then, the apparent theme of my entire forties has been "transition and evolution", as I've made both inner and outer changes to my life, moved to Paris, fallen in love, gotten married, taken on being a step-mom to three kids, learned a new language and culture, and most recently, have even moved house en famille. Oh, and finally cut the cord attaching me to my former careers of web design and life coaching to focus on writing.
Maybe I can best sum up what I'm feeling at this moment by saying: "NOW what?" (My coach/friend Laura, who wrote a book by that title, is grinning from ear to ear right about now.) What is next for my life? What do I want to do, be, experience? What is still left for me to "work on" in my personal evolution? (Oh, believe me... there's a LOT to work on.) Now that I've arrived at this great place in my life, a place it took me longer to get to than most people, where do I go from here?
I think this year will be about answering those questions. Figuring out some next steps. Taking some action (like finishing the book by my self-imposed deadline of end-of-September). I suppose I will get over the strangeness of turning 49, because what choice do I have other than to accept it and move on to 50, like everyone else. But I never want to stop growing. Pursuing something that I'm interested in or passionate about. Changing. Experiencing.
And being bold. Maybe turning 49 calls for being even bolder in some ways. Facing things I haven't wanted to face before. Cleaning up and clearing out things that no longer serve me well. I have no desire to do things like go sky-diving or bungee jumping or climbing a mountain, but there are other things I'd love to do, see or accomplish in the next years of my life.
So maybe 49 can be my "call to action". Yeah, I like that idea. And it feels a lot better than taking the attitude of: "Oh crap, I guess now it's all just downhill from here to the grave".
I still don't feel like a party or a celebration, per se, of this anniversaire. But tonight, I will have myself one real big kick-ass drink. While curled up on our comfy new sofa with Georges' arms around me, watching the sunset view from our new living room window, with the kids coming/going/hanging out all around us, doing their thing as usual. Appreciating how good my life is NOW, instead of worrying about "Now what?"
Sometimes, you just have to say, "It is what it is", and simply be in the moment. Without counting anything... other than your blessings.
