In about a week, I will be turning 40 years old. A few weeks ago if you had asked me about it, I would have smiled and said that I was looking forward to my birthday. Then last week, a quiet fear set in, and I wasn’t sure where my anxiety was coming from. Today, I’ve had an epiphany.
Face it, why should I feel compelled to lie about my age? I’ve earned those numbers and do not shrink away from admitting them. I am far from hanging up the “out of order” sign. I think my age continues to prepare me for what is to come. My confidence, not to be confused with youth’s false bravado, is real and comes from deep within. I’m learning to trust my instincts in the quest to realize my potential. For certain, I am a work in progress, but I am embracing these changes. Speaking for myself, this is one soon-to-be 40-year-old woman who will not sit on the sidelines, content to watch life pass by. I’ve learned a thing or two about life and about my ability to cope and adapt when change rears its head.
So, how can I feel this way now but have felt so helpless just a week ago? Here is where my epiphany occurred. I thought of the women in my life whom I admire and respect. Women who have laughed in the face of stereotypes and who have proven that there is a balance to their relationships, their children, their work and their peers. My mom, Rocelia, is one of those women. My mentor, Diane, is another. They show me what hard work can create and what doing all things “gracefully” means. I have been reminded to embrace my dreams; I am no longer afraid of failure – for failure is just another lesson to be learned. I refuse to live a life of regret, forged by an unwillingness to act upon my dreams.
It is going to be a great year. Happy 40th!