I tell my sons not to peak early. I didn’t peak until my 40s, and it was worth the wait. In fact, if you peak late, you just keeping soaring and don’t plateau.
I’m turning 50 in just over a week. I’m not sure why this decade is the cause of such strife. It’s a milestone, for sure. I see every birthday as a privilege. I have friends who never saw 50 so I see no reason to complain. I’m here, living and fighting for what I believe in. I’m more aware of the legacy I leave.
With 50 comes confidence, acceptance, and finally being OK not being the most graceful woman in the room. 50 means we have paid our admission for drama and we’re ready to trade in those tickets for some comedic relief. Each laugh line is earned, and I’ll happily add to mine. 50 ushers in a circle of friends who know, and more importantly, embrace, our quirks and warts. 50 is the age we have run out of f^%@s.
50 doesn’t mean we are running out of time; we are just gaining traction.
I bid adieu to my 40s with a sense of awe as I marvel at the speed of time. All I can say, is damn, that was fast. I have but two regrets. I never did write my book and I never ran for office.
But here’s the thing about turning 50…I’ve only just hit my stride.
