49 and Counting

Aging comes up in my mind quite a bit now as I prepare to turn 50 in a few months.  When I envisioned 50 from the vantage point of my younger self, I modeled my imaginings on the “wise old woman” archetype.  I am sure that I thought that I would be watching my young-adult daughter move into her life, working at the top of my career, and enjoying the financial benefits that come with a good paying job and the absence of tuition payments.

I don’t need to tell you that I am 0 for 3 on that list. 

So, I am forced – really forced – to come up with a new description of me at 50.  

Let’s see.  I am building a new career by starting all over at the very bottom of the aspirational ladder; substitute teacher is about as basic as you get.  And I am loving it.

I have to count pennies, but I am living debt free (except for a mortgage) and that feels honest and fair.  I am finding that I genuinely enjoy bargain hunting and that there is a lot to discover in local resale shops.

More than anything, the real me at 50 is not sure of a whole lot, pretty humble about things, and far more reluctant to pass judgment than I used to be.  I know that I wasn’t a perfect mom to Molly and that I made some mistakes.  I know that for the most part we are all just trying to do our best, and I have renewed patience for the stumbling around that we all do.

I dye my hair.  I run 5Ks.  I eat my vegetables and limit (to some extent) how much wine I drink.   I take my blood pressure medicine.

Turning 50 is just fine.  One of my new realities is that I am much more willing than I ever was before to take risks.  What is the worse that can happen?  I will die?  I may not be seeking death out, but in some ways I will welcome it; whatever comes next, Molly will be there leading the way.