The day I have most been dreading has arrived. As a teenager, I assumed I'd be dead by now. All the fascinating and beautiful women I admired as a child -- Marilyn Monroe, Carole Lombard, Ann Boleyn -- never made it to the age of 40. Yet here I am.
As a child, 40 seemed not only very old, but a cut off point of sorts. And the last six months have been particularly difficult as I have refused to accept the inevitable, mainly because my focus has been on what I have lost -- my youth, my marriage, perhaps some career aspirations, and perhaps (and this one sucks the most) my chance to conceive and birth a child. But a friend pointed out a fundamental truth yesterday: life does not unfold as any of us imagined at the age of 8 or 18. We all experience shifts and set-backs; diverted paths and opportunities or relationships that were not what we anticipated in our youth.
I've heard that the definition of stress is when we refuse to accept the reality of a situation at hand. A far more loving task would be to reflect on the gifts that I have received in my 40 years of life, and the delightful surprises that the diverted paths have brought. I certainly never thought I'd be a lawyer. Some people may see a career as an attorney as a fall from grace, and while I don't necessarily disagree, I know for myself that this degree is a triumph. In my youth, I never thought I was smart enough to go to law school. I was creative. I had wanted to be an actress -- and while I was talented and able to express emotions, I never considered the possibility that I could be both intelligent and emotionally intelligent.
I never saw myself going into politics and crafting legislation -- again, because I didn't think I was smart enough. And I certainly failed to anticipate the most wonderful, loving, intelligent, and funny people that I would have the privilege of meeting on Capitol Hill and in my present job. I'm lucky to have a lot of friends, but I think that I'm luckier in the fact that I have more than one "hide the body" friend. I literally have several people that I could call and say, "I'm in Yuma and I just killed a man," and the response from the other end of the phone would be, "Stay put. I'll be there in two days." No judgement. No lectures. Don't get me wrong...the questions will come later. But not in my moment of need.
Even today -- I certainly never thought I would live in San Diego with perfect weather. Nor did I think I would have such incredibly close friends that I consider my family in such a short window of time. When I reflect on giving up everything I knew and loved for approximately 20 years to start over 3,000 miles away...only knowing two people...I realize that the universe really is conspiring in my favor.
And the other things that I have so desperately wanted -- to be a published author, a wife again, and someone's mother. Well, I realize that this one day is not an expiration date. It's likely not even the second half of my life. So as I enter what may or may not be my middle age, I've decided to conform to the stereotypical American white woman who belligerently drinks wine and stalks Oprah. Therefore, if you need me I will be in Santa Barbara this weekend with a few of the people I love most in this world -- the people who have helped me transition from East to West; from married to single; from attorney to writer; and now from youth to what lays beyond.
As a child, 40 seemed not only very old, but a cut off point of sorts. And the last six months have been particularly difficult as I have refused to accept the inevitable, mainly because my focus has been on what I have lost -- my youth, my marriage, perhaps some career aspirations, and perhaps (and this one sucks the most) my chance to conceive and birth a child. But a friend pointed out a fundamental truth yesterday: life does not unfold as any of us imagined at the age of 8 or 18. We all experience shifts and set-backs; diverted paths and opportunities or relationships that were not what we anticipated in our youth.
I've heard that the definition of stress is when we refuse to accept the reality of a situation at hand. A far more loving task would be to reflect on the gifts that I have received in my 40 years of life, and the delightful surprises that the diverted paths have brought. I certainly never thought I'd be a lawyer. Some people may see a career as an attorney as a fall from grace, and while I don't necessarily disagree, I know for myself that this degree is a triumph. In my youth, I never thought I was smart enough to go to law school. I was creative. I had wanted to be an actress -- and while I was talented and able to express emotions, I never considered the possibility that I could be both intelligent and emotionally intelligent.
I never saw myself going into politics and crafting legislation -- again, because I didn't think I was smart enough. And I certainly failed to anticipate the most wonderful, loving, intelligent, and funny people that I would have the privilege of meeting on Capitol Hill and in my present job. I'm lucky to have a lot of friends, but I think that I'm luckier in the fact that I have more than one "hide the body" friend. I literally have several people that I could call and say, "I'm in Yuma and I just killed a man," and the response from the other end of the phone would be, "Stay put. I'll be there in two days." No judgement. No lectures. Don't get me wrong...the questions will come later. But not in my moment of need.
Even today -- I certainly never thought I would live in San Diego with perfect weather. Nor did I think I would have such incredibly close friends that I consider my family in such a short window of time. When I reflect on giving up everything I knew and loved for approximately 20 years to start over 3,000 miles away...only knowing two people...I realize that the universe really is conspiring in my favor.
And the other things that I have so desperately wanted -- to be a published author, a wife again, and someone's mother. Well, I realize that this one day is not an expiration date. It's likely not even the second half of my life. So as I enter what may or may not be my middle age, I've decided to conform to the stereotypical American white woman who belligerently drinks wine and stalks Oprah. Therefore, if you need me I will be in Santa Barbara this weekend with a few of the people I love most in this world -- the people who have helped me transition from East to West; from married to single; from attorney to writer; and now from youth to what lays beyond.
