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thatsjustjenna Somewhere between my 41st birthday and my 42nd birthday I looked up at myself in the bathroom mirror and I did not recognize myself.
The woman in the mirror was not the same woman who moved into this apartment fifteen years ago. It would be a shame if she was. But at the same time, the woman in the mirror is not who I expected to see when I became a woman in her 40's.
I don't hate her. But I don't love her either. In fact, I hardly know her at all.
I've got no need to go out and buy a cherry red corvette or get plastic surgery or anything drastic. And I'm envious of my friends who are also in their 40's and single and seemingly handling life with purpose and with ease. I'm envious that one has so far managed to still look the same as she did when she was in her late twenties and thirties. Her beautiful freckles betray no crow's feet, no laugh lines tug at her mouth. Her brow isn't constantly furrowed.
Not that I have any of those either, but I have the strange benefit of being fat. Face cards stay wrinkle free when there is plenty of fat to support them.
I don't know who I thought I'd be at this point in time. In my mind I went from my youth straight into old age. I was born old, it seemed only right. I would simply skip over the middle bits, having figured everything out already, and go straight into retirement age and senior discounts.
Part of me is pissed that this did not in fact happen. The other part of me is grateful for a few more good years.
I guess if I had to imagine it- a younger me would have thought that surely there'd be a husband and some kids and maybe a farm or at least a big house. Definitely cats. Maybe a horse. (I used to horse back ride, so this made sense at the time.) I'd be a famous painter who got to stay home all day and paint and occasionally write a book here and there. I always imagined I'd have a son. He would be the apple of my eye. My soul child. Sensitive and strong. Happy. I'd thought Thaddeus was a good name.
Now, I'm a librarian. Or a librarian in training. I'm back in school- never thought that'd happen after college, but here we are. I enjoy my work and I am doing well in school and I am grateful for everything. It even feels right in a lot of ways.
But everything is work. Work is work and school is work and reading books on my TBR is work because people expect me to have plenty of book recommendations. Even the memes and videos people send me are book related.
I guess it's fair to remind myself that we can get burnout doing the things we love too. And that it's okay that I am in this position. And that I have only three more classes to go before my degree is completed. And I am taking the summers off...so if I can just hang on for four more months (or 3.5 at this point). I will have made it to the summer where I can revive myself and take some weight off of my shoulders.
I saw where someone referred to turning 42 as their "Hitchhikers Across the Galaxy" year- the year where all of the answers were revealed to them. The answers to life, the universe...everything.
I do hope their right.
Until we meet again...
The woman in the mirror was not the same woman who moved into this apartment fifteen years ago. It would be a shame if she was. But at the same time, the woman in the mirror is not who I expected to see when I became a woman in her 40's.
I don't hate her. But I don't love her either. In fact, I hardly know her at all.
I've got no need to go out and buy a cherry red corvette or get plastic surgery or anything drastic. And I'm envious of my friends who are also in their 40's and single and seemingly handling life with purpose and with ease. I'm envious that one has so far managed to still look the same as she did when she was in her late twenties and thirties. Her beautiful freckles betray no crow's feet, no laugh lines tug at her mouth. Her brow isn't constantly furrowed.
Not that I have any of those either, but I have the strange benefit of being fat. Face cards stay wrinkle free when there is plenty of fat to support them.
I don't know who I thought I'd be at this point in time. In my mind I went from my youth straight into old age. I was born old, it seemed only right. I would simply skip over the middle bits, having figured everything out already, and go straight into retirement age and senior discounts.
Part of me is pissed that this did not in fact happen. The other part of me is grateful for a few more good years.
I guess if I had to imagine it- a younger me would have thought that surely there'd be a husband and some kids and maybe a farm or at least a big house. Definitely cats. Maybe a horse. (I used to horse back ride, so this made sense at the time.) I'd be a famous painter who got to stay home all day and paint and occasionally write a book here and there. I always imagined I'd have a son. He would be the apple of my eye. My soul child. Sensitive and strong. Happy. I'd thought Thaddeus was a good name.
Now, I'm a librarian. Or a librarian in training. I'm back in school- never thought that'd happen after college, but here we are. I enjoy my work and I am doing well in school and I am grateful for everything. It even feels right in a lot of ways.
But everything is work. Work is work and school is work and reading books on my TBR is work because people expect me to have plenty of book recommendations. Even the memes and videos people send me are book related.
I guess it's fair to remind myself that we can get burnout doing the things we love too. And that it's okay that I am in this position. And that I have only three more classes to go before my degree is completed. And I am taking the summers off...so if I can just hang on for four more months (or 3.5 at this point). I will have made it to the summer where I can revive myself and take some weight off of my shoulders.
I saw where someone referred to turning 42 as their "Hitchhikers Across the Galaxy" year- the year where all of the answers were revealed to them. The answers to life, the universe...everything.
I do hope their right.
Until we meet again...