It’s that time again, time for me to get a little nostalgic and write about the years
behind and years ahead of me. This year is really a non-starter when it comes to
birthdays. There’s nothing new about being three years into my fortieth decade
except that perhaps the crushing weight of current and future responsibilities
feels a wee bit heavier.
At this juncture in life, working, avoiding
putting away laundry, driving my mini-van, grocery shopping, cooking, seeking out more
coffee, volunteering and attending various children’s events are the activities
that shape the vast majority of my time. Between work and my three beautiful
kids I am consistently on deadline and/or
on the move. We also have a fun, family-oriented social life with like-minded
people and this is all good. But so immersed am I in my attempts to get everything done,
get everyone where they need to be and still “live in the moment” each week
that concepts like reading the newspaper, engaging in deep thoughts and spirituality
are not regularly showing up on my radar.
This makes it tough when it’s an
election year and it’s time to vote. I am active in my community, I try to read
more than my social media feeds and watch more informative programming than “Love
it or List It” and Blackhawks games, but right now it is impossible for me to grasp
which candidates from which political machines are the best qualified, the
better of two evils and who actually want to make this state, this country or this world a better place. Each election cycle I vow to get more informed and
dig up some of the idealistic passion for politics I had in my 20’s and 30’s. But these tasks just don’t make the priority list scrawled on my kitchen whiteboard or inputted
into the family Google calendar.
This is my truth and I don’t think
I’m that unusual or should be totally ashamed, even if some days I feel one hundred percent like the stereotypical suburban “soccer mom.” I know how privileged and lucky
I am. In a world where we are continuously bombarded with media stories of
illness, war, violence, terrorism, corruption and the truly bizarre, I am blessed
beyond measure when it comes to my marriage, supportive family and friends,
safe community and much, much more. I take heart in these things.
But there’s a reason why the woes
of middle age are so storied. Being 43 means you’re in the midst of
changing dreams (kids’ college, retirement?), growing worries (health and aging
family members) and regularly feeling like you’re the oldest person in the restroom
at the rock concert (not always, but often).
From all the inspirational quotes I
read on Facebook each day believe me I know someday I’ll look back and know
that these are the good ole' days, the little things are the big things, I can’t
live a positive life with negative thoughts and when they grow up, my voice
will be the voice inside my kids’ heads (note to self, inspirational content is
booming business). So this 43 year old will keep marching on. A little older, a
little wiser, knowing that someday not too long from now I’ll have more time to really think, research
and ponder important issues, get more than six hours of sleep per night and just be
still.
But really...that doesn't sound like
much fun, does it?
