Feeling 42…Opening Up And Speaking My Truth
42.
So now I’m not “almost 40” or “just turned 40”…I am in my 40s. It feels like yesterday when I was so scared to turn 40, and having a celebration was imperative. I could skip over 42. 42 is one of those random years, like 22, 32, 52…I mean, they are just kind of “whatever” years, and therefore “whatever” birthdays, right? I wasn’t even going to celebrate at all this year. 42, who cares? I had gotten used to traveling during my birthday. One year was Brazil, one year was Costa Rica, last year was Tulum…so if this year was going to be at home, no big deal, right?
Then there was the helicopter accident that killed Kobe Bryant and 8 others. I’ve never been that into sports. I would go to basketball games socially. However, more than being an iconic basketball player, Kobe Bryant was…my age. And just like that, his life is over. Unfortunately, it took a tragedy like this to remind me how fragile life is and how, yes, we should celebrate what we have whenever we can, because you never know when it ends.
It’s easier said than done at this age.
I don’t know about you guys, but getting into my 40s, there are a lot of things I could care less about.
Some of these things were a big deal in my 20s and 30s. For example, having birthday parties with tons of people to make me feel validated and loved. I can recall friends of the past, acquaintances of the past, all gathering at overpriced bars in Los Angeles, taking tons and tons of photos together. The more photos you had of yourself with different “friends” the better.
But I can also recall coming home from many of those parties feeling incredibly empty. Why? Because even though I am not much of an “astrological sign” person, I know Pisceans crave intimacy and depth, and that is not something you get in a large party full of people who are really just looking for something to do.
At 42, with the rise of social media, it feels like intimacy and connection are lost, and it makes me incredibly sad and lonely at times. I often spend more time conversing with people online and have stronger connections to some of them than real life friends. I guess it’s just the way of the world now.
At 42, I have become more of an introvert, because I rather be alone than spend time with people I don’t really like or feel I can’t be myself around. Couch nights with a book or a Netflix show are the norm and I am mostly okay with that. Occasionally, some of the tenants I’ve gotten to know over the years in my apartment building will be on the patio on a random night socializing and I will get to partake in that. In real life meetings are not dead, they just seem to be a helluva lot more rare.
At 42, I am not going to go chasing around friendships as I did in my 20s and 30s. I am only going to reach out to a person to hang out so many times before I give up. The phone works both ways, and since we are all now attached to them, a person never reaching out is definitely saying something.
In the past, there were lots of friendships of convenience. Many of those friendships found a significant other, and decided they didn’t need friends anymore, or they didn’t need me, clearly! Even better, some made it known they only needed friends who had significant others, just like they only needed single friends when they wanted to go out and take shallow posed photos in party outfits. Not saying taking pictures is bad…it is a way of life now, but it’s probably time to question relationships where taking photos together is the most important part of getting together.
At 42, friendship is weird in general. Many of my closest friends live in other states. In different time zones, with different lives. The ones that are in my vicinity are often difficult to see. LA has become significantly more expensive over the years and increasingly more difficult to get around, so plans have to be made weeks in advance. Some of them actually do pick up the phone and call to see how I am doing and vice versa. Some only text. Some only text and take days to get back to me. I understand how life can be, but then…I don’t, because we are all attached at the hip to technology. How is a person on Facebook all day and night and can’t respond to my two sentences? Just saying…It kind of sucks sometimes, and that is partially because you can see everything. I miss the days where things were unknown. I would just like a friend to come over in their pajamas and make dinner and watch bad television with me once in a while. On a weeknight. Is that too much to ask? Maybe at this age, it is.
At 42, the things I look for in a romantic partner are also different than the things I looked for in the past. I still need to be attracted to someone, but I also want a best friend and partner. I want someone who has social skills, some depth, and some financial prowess. Social media has made it not only harder to connect with friends, but also it has made a mess of the dating world. I am also at the age where damaged goods are just par for the course, and it’s really just a matter of finding someone whose damages align with your own.
At 42, my career is more difficult to navigate than ever before. I feel like keeping up with trends and technology has become increasingly more difficult, and more and more I struggle to find my place and hold onto confidence as a dietitian. The wellness world is over-saturated. My career has cliques just like friendship circles in the 5th grade, and I often feel left out. There are many women and men who are younger and take better selfies or spend more on their coaching and marketing for their businesses. It has gotten harder to adjust to the new ways of “niching down” when I was used to doing a myriad of things. It has become harder to find the motivation I once had.
At 42, I am very aware of my mortality. I can still exercise, but things hurt and I need more recovery time. I look in the mirror and see more lines. I see the sun damage on my chest I was warned about. I get my hair dyed every 6 weeks instead of every 6 months. The jeans I have worn for over 10 years that I swore I would never grow out of are tight. My weight fluctuates more readily. It doesn’t seem like much, but then I look at pictures from as recent as two years ago and can see the difference. I want to embrace it, but I don’t like it. I slowly watch my parents getting older. It’s scary. I’m scared. I cry more. I am hormonal. I’m not ready for this. I still feel like parts of me are 22. Where did the time go?
