40

Christmas is right around the corner, which means the New Year isn’t far behind, and after that comes along my birthday.  It’s a notable one this time around — the “Big 40”.  I guess I should be excited, or depressed, or at least horrified, but actually I’m feeling sort of…well, meh about the whole deal.

For a while I’ve been worried there’s something wrong with me.  I mean, I’ve always been a fairly even-keeled guy, but still, shouldn’t I be feeling a bit anxious about turning 40?  What gives?  But here’s the deal:  After reflecting on the life I’ve lived, the life I’m living now, and the life I’m hoping to live going forward, I’ve realized that the reason I’m not bouncing off the walls about turning 40 is the same reason that I just smile and shrug my shoulders when I’m asked what I want for Christmas, because my answer for the past several years has been “Nothing.”

In my opinion, getting worked up about turning 40 is essentially saying that I’m not happy with the state of my life after having existed on this planet for four decades.  And honestly, when I look closely, aside from a handful of dinky first-world gripes like a lame work commute there really isn’t much going on in my life truly worth the energy required for complaints.

I wonder if this is an issue, however.  Does attaining contentment in life mean I’m not pushing hard enough anymore?  Have I taken the blue pill? Should I be more worried about money?  Should I be concerned that my job might be outsourced?  Should I want more stuff?  What about the world?  Should Ali and I argue more?  Kiss more?  Should I be hollering at my kids to do even better in school, score even more points?  What about their futures?  Should I be going to the gym every morning, running five miles a day, and ripping up my abs in vain hopes of a Men’s Health cover?  Should I be going out more, hanging out more, socializing more, networking more?  What for?  To what end?  Why?  Really, WHY?

It’s all so very exhausting when you think about it, this anxiety, the constant concern, the always thinking that more is needed.  More time, more energy, more money, more stuff, more blood.  After all these years, I still just don’t get it.  Maybe I never will.  Bigger is not always better.

At a basic level I really have everything I need to survive my days.  I’m healthy.  In Ali I have an amazing, funny, smart friend and lover with whom to spend the rest of my life.  I have two wonderful, energetic, inquisitive children who blow my mind each and every day.  Our kids have all of their grandparents, all of whom they get to see often, as well as uncles, aunts, and cousins.  I have no regrets about the past, no complaints about the present, and no real anxiety about the future.

So I’m gonna turn 40 in six weeks, and I’m expecting that day to be just another day in my life.  Not because I’m bored, or depressed, or checked-out, but because I’m good.  Part of that good is gratitude.  I am grateful, grateful, grateful, for the wonderful life that I have lived thus far.  Part of that good is contentment.  I have what I need, and I want for very little.  And the remainder is preparedness.  I’m ready for the future, whatever it may bring.  So hurry up, 40, I’ve got a life to live.