On my birthday, September 24th, I walked into a gym and office outlandishly decorated to the nines. Although there were a lot of old lady jokes, I never felt old. I still don't, and thanks to amazing genes, I really don't think I look 40, either. I enjoyed the laughs on me and felt loved by my sweet friends and co-workers.
Two days later, I was surprised, again, by a room full of our closest friends and family at my favorite fancy restaurant. I can't begin to tell you how much it meant to have so many of the people I love in the same room, especially knowing how much they loved me, too. The fact that I was the big 4-0 never really entered my mind. Every other birthday had been easy, so I was just happy to be alive and surrounded by great people.
Over the next few weeks I noticed some changes. I was looking at my life with a microscope, as well as the world around me. Insecurities began to creep in. What have I accomplished in the last 40 years? How much time have I wasted on the inconsequential aspects of life? Have I already lived half of my life? (Will I ever be a writer?) These questions consumed me.
When causally talking with a friend about my intellectual hurdles, she mentioned an article that said when women get older, they begin to go through a second adolescence. The age of this second adolescence varies from as early as 35 to as late as 60. Not all women go through it, but it does seem to be the first stage of the dreaded menopause for some.
Yes, that evil word "menopause." It's perplexing to me that when we mention the hormonal chaos of our teenagers, it's simply a stage of life; however, a woman goes through menopause with terms such as "crazy" and "mentally unstable" attached. Is menopause not just another stage of life?
In her book Inventing the Rest of Our Lives: Women in Second Adulthood, Suzanne Levine writes about the eerily similar side-effects of a teenager going through their changes and a woman going through her changes, describing both as werewolves. "The difference is that the teenage werewolf is accepted as a stage of life, while the menopausal werewolf is considered an affliction in need of treatment."
This just pisses me off, because it's true! I've never really thought about it until recently, but we could really take this further by mentioning the taboo that IS mental illness. Our society, generally speaking, believes that mental illness is the owner's fault; that they should be able to control it on their own. It's acceptable to treat any ailments within your body, but if it's mental illness, keep it to yourself lest you be harshly judged.
I am no doctor; these are merely my own observations of the world around me. I also do not believe I'm going through menopause, but I do know those big life questions I thought I answered back in my twenties are coming back, bigger and stronger than ever. My grandmother has told me for as long as I can remember that I'm inquisitive by nature, and it's times like these I wish she were wrong. But I accept who I am, and, thankfully, so does my family.
I'm so immersed in these philosophical questions that I recently began reading Becoming Wise: An Inquiry into the Mystery and Art of Living by Krista Tippet. I'm laughing even as I type this, as I'm sure you are, too. It's ridiculous. Surely, I'm making this "life" thing more difficult than it has to be, right? But even one chapter in, I'm amazed. My inquisitive nature wins over everything, so this is my attempt to feed it. Combined with my current challenge to read the Bible in its entirety, I feel I'm on the right path.
So, why did I write this? Because surely I'm not the only person struggling with these life questions. Sometimes I feel alone in this quest, but I'm certain others are on the same lonely journey. Wouldn't this be easier together?
I am by no means perfect; my flaws are many. Nevertheless, the continual search for the meaning of life, or more precisely my purpose in life, only reiterates the truth that we are never done growing. When I enter those pearly gates, I will not have been a perfect human. But I can only hope God will say to me, "Thank you for trying."
