I'm 43 years old

Happy Sunday, Soothers. I turned 43 this week, and here are some thoughts. Nothing matters timeline wise, except that shame tells us it should. I'm 43, and happily partnered yet happily unmarried. I'm 43 and happily childfree, though until about age 37 I was obsessed with the idea of having a kid; looking back, mostly realizing because I thought I should and everybody else was doing it. I'm 43 and my partner is 30 years old; nobody cares. I'm 43 and I started my business at age 40. Starting a business to be an online life coach when you're 40 after nearly 20 years in a corporate environment when most of your friends around you are successful in the MBA, LinkedIn, Senior Vice President sense, is a real ego trip, my friends, but I did it and survived, and am thriving, even. I'm 43 and just purchased and moved into my first house. I'm equally convinced I would be totally happy just renting for my whole life, it just kind of shook out this way and I have a crap ton of economic privilege. I'm 43 and I can finally see myself at 50, 60, 70 (all god willing), whereas before this past year or two those seemed like literally impossible ways of picturing myself. Now I feel I can settle into them. 

I'm 43 and feel like I finally hold the knowledge that nothing really matters, and also everything totally, extremely matters. It's a fine line.

I'm 43 and I'm finally starting to be less terrified of slowing down and doing less. At the same time I feel the pressure of how much there is to learn in and delight in in this world and that I want to do so much more of it. But who's to say a trip to a mountain top in a foreign country is any more special than an afternoon in my backyard? I'm learning to try to treat the afternoon spent in the backyard as equally special and unique.

I'm 43 and everybody told me that when I turned 30 I would give less fucks. I would disagree. My 30s were a very turbulent decade, full of so much fuck-giving. I can see now that for me, the 40s are really the decade where I just care less about anybody's opinion of me, other than a few beloveds. The era of less fuck-giving is finally here, and I am ecstatic. 

I'm 43 and I'm obsessed with only listening from and learning from women 5-45 years older than me. I think this is a good rule. Not that the youth don't have incredible insights and wisdom too, I just spent the first half of my life prioritizing trying to look younger, feel younger, wish I was younger, listening to those younger than me thinking they had some secrets. Now it's time in the second half to shift that. 

I'm 43 and I really believe now that only two things block us: that we listen too much to shame's voice; and that we lack tools and ability to process grief. If you can learn to unshame yourself, and give yourself permission to cry, to rage, to shed tears and years and lifetimes of unprocessed grief, to do this for your ancestors who suppressed hundreds of years of tears into their bodies and therefore yours, you'll become largely unstoppable. But while these are two of the main things that block us, they are also two of the most difficult things to learn and also societally-disapproved to step into learning about. Do it anyways, even if it takes your whole life. 

I'm 43 and I've finally learned that meditation really does make a difference. Dammit. 

I'm 43 and an astrologer once told me my career was really going to take off when I turned 48. I'm prepared to spend the next five years getting ready and refining. 

From MaryBeth Bonfiglio, who turned 48 and wrote a whole newsletter about 48 lessons that is a very excellent read, I was struck by her take on this: "I watched a video of Francis McDermott talking about aging and how if we don’t look old then nobody will know who the elders are.  We won’t be recognized. It really struck me as such wise words. How will we recognize the elders if they all want to look young? I love Francis — and in many ways (not all) —  I love getting and looking old. I want people to know I am becoming an elder, or trying to.  But how does that look? How and who can we define what that looks like? Is it just allowing nature to take course and doing nothing? But then there are thousands of years of cultures and adornments that would say that is not the case. Just letting our looks be is not more honorable. Using our body as a palette is ancient."

I'm 43 and it's showing on my face and on my body. In terms of physical aging, I’m starting to see my older self, my midlife self, my getting-closer-to-crone-self emerge, and for the first time I can ever recall, I’m feeling intrigued, curious, delighted even around watching myself age. I’ve stopped wearing makeup most of the time. I’ve never colored my hair and am starting to see the grays come in at my temples with interest. Sags here and there are happening and while I can’t say all my patriarchal conditioning has me THRILLED about that, I’m still generally feeling neutral, not panicked. 

I'm 43 and I’m starting to realize that this version of myself, while she’ll always have so much to learn, will have a lot to teach me, too. I’m feeling called towards areas that are new and fresh to me, that I’m a brand new student in: herbalism, gardening, land stewardship, learning how to work with plants and flowers as allies. And yet something also feels very familiar and ancient about these interests, like old friends I’m going to get reacquainted with after years or even lifetimes apart. 

Mostly as I age and begin to enter my mid-40s, I feel blessed to most often think, “Midlife Catherine is going to be the witchiest, weirdest, croniest person. She’s going to be tromping around the mountain hills with a walking stick and basket for herb cuttings, teaching Tarot workshops and inner child healing and hosting women’s circles in her spare time. She’ll have so much wisdom and love and magic and insight and compassion to give others, and herself.” 

And I can’t wait to keep getting to know her.