My Mid-Life Uncrisis

The first 40 years of my life were in constant turmoil. Mid-life is a relief.

I’m in my mid-40s. As I write this, I’m 44, but my 45th birthday is in less than a month. Given my health and family history, I can reasonable expect another 45+ years of life, especially if I’m proactive about my health.

Aging is weird.

I’m not old.

But also… I’m perimenopausal, past any desire to have more children. My only child is grown, in his mid-20s, in a committed relationship, and has a delightful little one who is his in every way but biological, making me a grandmother even!

But also… I’m not old.

Well, I mean, I started being “old” to kids when I was in my 30s, but mid-40s is not old, either.

And yet… I am aging.

It’s weird.

I love it.

I mean that.

I love that.

Because the first 40 years of my life sucked on a variety of levels.

And since then?

It’s been amazing.

Finally free from a toxic marriage that nearly killed me a couple times — and nearly killed him, literally, that one time when a hex got a bit bloodier than anticipated…

My business, while not raking in the riches at this point, sustains me.