Leaving my 30’s kicking and screaming like a child

I don’t want to be one of those people that whines about getting older. 

I don’t want to care about the number of candles on my hypothetical birthday cake. 

I don’t want to cringe when people sing happy birthday to me. 

But, for better or worse, it looks like I am one of those people...

To be clear, I’m not saying this because I want to hear “you look great though” or “being 40 is great, I promise” or anything like that. This is one of those times where I just need to be ok with feeling these feels and writing about them and letting them fall where they may. And I do appreciate Happy Birthday wishes from people, and appreciate the messages and emails wishing me a happy day, but the process of having another year decade fly by has me all tangled up inside...

Apparently even 3 year old me wasn’t a fan of birthday hoopla! 

I’m definitely not graceful or gracious about this whole process. In fact I feel like I’m entering my 40’s with the poise of Homer Simpson. 

Because of that, I have been trying to quiet my mind so I can reflect on my 30’s a bit and make sense of how I’m feeling. And as one would expect, the craziness of the past few weeks has made this nearly impossible. Funny enough, that sentiment actually respresents this past decade pretty well for me...just a blur of craziness...activity and triumphs and losses and just a shit ton of stuff going on. You’d think I’d be glad to step out of my 30’s!

They were busy, that’s for sure!
For starters: 

I grew and birthed a second human early on in the decade... 

...and spent the first several years of my 30’s trying to figure him out, managing some terrifying health scares  with him, and generally trying to keep it together as a mom (and wife and friend and human). If you know me well, you have likely heard me talk about the struggles I had with Aaron from pregnancy through, well, through this past year actually. And not just “terrible 2’s” kind of struggles...it was a lot of different things that truly had me hanging on for dear life at times. And while I’ve aged exponentially as a result, I’ve also learned and grown a tremendous amount and wouldn’t trade it for the world. Well, ok, a few less hospital trips would’ve been great, but ultimately being his mom is what pushed me to work on all things ME the second half of my 30’s. 

Speaking of working on ME, I have been in therapy for the past few years (it’ll be 4 years this summer so almost half of my 30’s). I planned on "only needing" it for 6 months to a year. Ha! I still laugh out loud when I think about how naïve I was. As per usual, the more you unpack, the more you find. And then life happens through it all so there is (seemingly) an endless supply of therapy topics to tackle on a weekly basis. Finding a therapist (thanks to my dear friend Casey) is probably the single most important thing I did in my 30’s. I’m not sure where I would be right now without all of the work I’ve done. 

For example: I have a hard time believing (but it is true) that I spent more than 20 years (ages 15-36) actively battling an insidious eating disorder. I can right now proudly say that I have been asymptomatic (for lack of a better word) for more than 3 years. This is a direct result of finding a great therapist and working hard on all of the hard things. So while recovery from this disease will be a lifelong experience, I can say I kicked the hard part for the first time (hopefully for good) in my 30’s. That is something to celebrate!

I also like to say that I found running in my 30’s as pretty much all of my running happened then. It was teir 2 of my “working on me” strategy. A mental and physical release. I did run my first marathon with only a month left of 29, but it was a bucket list item and I didn’t run at all for 2 years after I crossed that finish line. Most everything else running related took place from the ages of 34-39. 5 marathons, 4 ultra marathons, an olympic triathlon, a half Ironman, several 5K placings, and a whole lot of miles. I met people and saw new places and learned to love and appreciate what my body could do for me. Probably the most satisfying and rewarding aspect was the ways it challenged my mental toughness, and the satisfaction that came with pushing through when all you want to do is quit. 

Unfortunately I also lost running in my 30’s.

You all know this story already, but it was a hugely *sad* part of how this decade ended for me. *I want to say devastating but worry that it sounds far too dramatic. If you are ok with it though, feel free to substitute the word devastating for sad.*

 I used to joke that the one good thing about eventually turning 40 was moving up an age group in races (which means placing more easily). Oh well. Best laid plans! 

Two big knee surgeries (the first ACL surgery happened at 33) is two more than I had planned for this decade. The knee preservation surgery was definitely an unexpected ending to my 30’s...and my running. 

So 40 will hopefully be the biking decade. 

Maybe the swimming decade?

Ha!  I won’t get that far ahead of myself!

I started and completed my MSN in my 30’s, and then started a whole new career path shortly after. This was a giant “I have no idea if this is what I should be doing but here goes nothing” decision. It was relatively terrifying and significantly uncomfortable being so far outside of my comfort zone but I have grown SO much as a result. 

I am pretty certain that if I waited any longer to jump into something else, I wouldn’t have done it. I felt brave and ready to try at 38, and while I have no reason to think my bravery will end just because I turn 40, I do know that my stamina and endurance for dealing with shit feels like it’s waning. The older you get, the easier it is to just keep doing what you’ve always done.

I would say that the final big event I’ll highlight from my 30’s was converting to Judaism. 

I am now a Jew-by-Choice. 

Shiphrah. 

Officially “part of the tribe.”

This process (remember, none of this is part of being on a journey) was also stimulated by turning my focus to myself, a result of unpacking baggage, triggered by discovering what I want and need as a human. Although the actual conversion happened, and I’m legitimately Jewish, I have a lot of “work” to do in figuring out how to really own that. I find myself still qualifying my Judaism by explaining that I recently converted. As if that makes me less real than someone who was born into a family of Jews. It feels less real, and that feeling feels too real. The previous statement makes sense in my head so I’m going to leave it as-is, but I’m sure it reads like gibberish to anyone else! 

So my 40’s as a Jew will be learning to feel legitimate. Learning to own it. Learning to not qualify my Jewishness with “I converted, I wasn’t born as such.” I am excited to polish some Jewish traditions for my own family, collect and cook some recipes, and watch my boys become Bar Mitzvahs in my 40’s.

Some more from “in my 30’s”:

A few new tattoos, Obama (followed by he-who-must-not-be-named), skin cancer x6, an Eagles Super Bowl win, a Phillies World Series win, 9 years of Dewey Beach memories and then saying goodbye to Dewey, swimming with wild Sea Turtles, purple hair don’t care, surviving 8 years of Alex being unemployed and completing two advanced degrees, Goonies Never Say Die, doing my first pull-up, new pets, some friends gained and some friends lost...and so much more.

So much good, some not so good, all of it feeling like controlled chaos...

I think what scares me about my 40’s (aside from the fact that it is followed by my 50’s) is the things that will be getting older and moving-on. My boys will be full-grown at the end. They won’t just go from infants to school-aged, they will graduate high school and move on to college (hopefully) and be men. And just thinking about that makes me both delighted and terribly sad all at the same time. Like, real tears in my eyes sad. Yes, I’m tearing up just typing this. Our sweet pets (except for Dio) will no longer be with us. Who knows what the hell shape our country will be in. I will likely be done with therapy at some point and will lose an important relationship in that. Ack! There will undoubtedly be many amazing events as well that will happen. I promise I’m not all doom and gloom. But 40 feels big, and somewhat scary. 

Besides needing to dye my grey hairs more frequently, and noticing more body aches and pains, and suddenly caring about facial masks and creams as I approach 40, I have a longing for time to slow down. It feels hard to catch up right now. It feels hard to catch my breath when big things happen. I can’t possible be turning 40, wasn’t I just 34?  

Maybe with age there will come a calmness or a sense of “fuck it, who cares.”
Maybe.