On birthdays, getting older, and growing up

I don't know about you, but I'm feeling 43

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It’s my birthday this week. I’m turning 43. 

Forty-three is kind of a weird age, isn’t it? I’m not old, but I’m not exactly young either. I still call my mom when I have a bad day, but also I am a mom, which honestly feels weird sometimes. I don’t wish I was younger, but at the same time, it feels like time goes so fast, and I’m getting older at a much quicker pace than I did in my teens and 20s, when it seemed like I had nothing but time. Days and weeks and months just melt away, and I feel like I’m in a constant struggle to catch up. There is so much to do and a lot of it (laundry, making dinner, some parts of childcare) is so monotonous. And there are so many things I want to do (dinner parties, travel, certain career goals), and I just don’t do them. I don’t even know why. Do other people struggle to accomplish their goals? How do you get over it and just do the things? 

Sorry, that was a dumb question—of course other people struggle with this. That’s why there’s a whole cottage industry of so-called experts who promise to help people like me find their way. There’s a reason why Atomic Habits has spent over 200 weeks on the New York Times Best Seller list. So many of us are looking for advice on how to be better, to do more, to optimize our lives. Some people get very, very rich promising the rest of us that they know the secret to happiness. And I personally feel more susceptible to their sales pitches than I have at any other time in my life. 

Forty-something years in, I’d very much like someone to reassure me that I’m on the right path, and that this path will lead me to contentment and financial success, and that 10 years from now, I won’t once again find myself restless and adrift and wondering what the hell comes next. I want this, and at the same time, I know there isn’t a book or podcast out there that will offer any real comfort. Brene Brown could call me on the phone every morning and tell me I’m smart and beautiful, and I’m pretty sure I’d still have these crushing moments of self-doubt.

I’ve been feeling so insecure lately, and I think part of it has to do with my birthday and the end of the year and feelings of frustration and uncertainty over where I go from here. It’s also been exactly six months since I left Fortune, and while I’ve learned a lot and even had a few amazing wins during this transition period, I’m still struggling to figure out what comes next and how to make it a reality. And you guys, IT’S REALLY HARD!

But I’m going to give myself a gift this year and try to not be so hard on myself. Because the truth is, I’m doing just fine. And if I’m not striving for something, then what am I even doing? I know my to-do list will never be finished, so why should I think my ambition will ever be sated?

A decade ago, I celebrated turning 33 with Ken at a little pub hotel in Northern England very close to the Scottish border. We were on an incredible road trip across the UK with stops in Glasgow, Manchester, and Liverpool, followed by two days in Minehead, where we saw Madness play their famous weekender at the Butlins resort. I’m pretty sure we were the only Americans there. It was truly a dream vacation.

But while we were having the best time on our UK rock ’n’ roll tour, I was also wondering what the fuck I was doing with my life.