Last week I turned 42. I finally feel I can really celebrate what it means to be “40” (well, now 40-something).
When I turned 40, two years ago, I hardly recognized it. I was navigating extremely choppy seas with a newborn (second) baby and between bouts of sickness (not fun). I also was seriously stressed out by having to be present in our business instead of exclusively dedicating time to take care of myself and our tiny baby, Leonardo. In short, I was totally consumed by resistance, and that included turning 40.
Family and friends, wanting to be helpful, would ask, “How are you going to celebrate this new decade?” At the time, I had dreams of a trip to the south of France, but couldn’t muster the energy to plan it. All I could manage was a weak smile and cast my gaze to the (screaming) infant in arms. It wasn’t the time to celebrate, at least with parties and elaborate trips.
A girlfriend, trying to be supportive, said, “Liz, you know your 40s is the new 30s”. Really? That was a fun decade, but I was hoping not to repeat it either. Then an older friend (turning 50) said, “You will love your 40s, darling. It’s the time when you step into who you really are.” That sounded great. I really wanted this to be true. However, it felt so far away from my current situation.
My reality was one of living moment to moment, simply trying to get by. My goals included beating my recurrent mastitis (which my lactation consultant told me was a ‘fire of the soul’, ha!, how savvy of her), sleeping four hours straight, and not having to be present for business. Beyond that, I had absolutely no idea what the future, let alone my 40s, would hold.
It was probably the first time in my life I had no sense of where I was headed nor who I wanted to be. I felt so uncertain, like I was treading water…better said, barely keeping my head above water.
Like that, I slipped into my forties on a ghost ship.
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Shortly after my 40th birthday, one very hot February night, I sat rocking Leonardo. He slept quietly on my chest. I gazed at the nearly full moon rising over the mountains high above Cerro San Cristobal. She was bright, like a flashlight in the dark sky.
“Well here I am,” I thought to myself. “I did it. I achieved all these life goals. I am married. I have two beautiful babies now. Is this it? Am I supposed to feel happy only with this? Now what?”
I sat in silence, rocking. The moon cast her soft light on me. Then it hit me…I had sure settled nicely.
I immediately heard myself yelling, “NOOOOOO!!!! THIS CANNOT BE THE END OF ME.”
I immediately felt restless, fiesty. The unrest had absolutely nothing to do with the love I felt for my family. I was so grateful for them but I knew there was one critical piece missing from the equation. ME. In creating this family, this life, where had LIZ gone? Somewhere between business, career ambitions, babies, and absorbing other people’s goals for my life, I had been forgotten who I was.
What exactly did I want to do with the rest of my precious life? What was next for me???? And I was not thinking just about my career move. No, What about ME?? MEEEEEEE!!! As a person, as a spiritual being. I was off balance. I was exhausted. I had morphed into somebody I needed to be introduced to again.
I let myself go deeper. Why not go the whole way down the rabbit hole? I shot off rapid fire questions: “Why am I here? What am I really here to do? What is my work (read: purpose) in life?”
And the big one, WHO AM I?
I sat, in silence, for a while. I had no answers. Then, I felt this knowing, not a exactly a voice but something I can only describe as a feeling that translates to “KNOW YOURSELF”. It must have been my soul/higher self communicating with me, and I was (finally!) ready to listen.
That moment of despair gave birth to the realization that I have the right to figure out who I am. Not only the right—the fundamental need to know myself, love myself, find my voice…and to explore all of this with zero agenda.
Entering my 40s was, basically, an “earthquake.” How ironic considering the earthquake-prone country I live in. Pretty much everything got cracked open. It has not been easy, nor pretty. It’s been very meaningful though.
In the upturning, unearthing and rebuilding (often more than once), I have not loved everything what I discover about myself. I often want to be stronger–and I am not. I want to be more graceful, and am not. I don’t want to project my frustration on my innocent kids—or myself–by being unconscious. I am getting better at this. I wish I had more patience, was less judgmental, and was less emotional. I notice I just want to skip the part of my (life) movie that I don’t like and go to the ending where I am already whole—without putting in the work. But I know that’s not an option. Real growth takes time and constant work–and a certain willingness to look at all of this softly, with understanding.
Oh my, what a struggle… but it all boiled down to wanting to be different and perceiving that huge gap. I now understand that I have so much to learn and so much to let go of, and that will probably be the case for the rest of life on a continual basis. I have accepted that it’s part of the journey.
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What happened in the weeks/months after that telling moonlight night was subtle but powerful. I took the first baby steps closer to knowing myself. I decided to embark on my own spiritual journey from that sense of restlessness—I knew there was more. There had to be. I certainly couldn’t go to India to an ashram, nor did I even have that much time to myself with a baby and a toddler. However, I could follow my curiosity and tune in more frequently to the little voice I could now hear.
Baby steps.
I started slowly. Any movement is better than inertia. Any movement starts momentum in another direction. I would grab one of my (many) self-help books, and re-read a page or two while the baby slept. I didn’t put the pressure on myself of reading the whole book (as I would have in the past) nor read in any particular order. I just opened it and let the book speak to me. Or, I would listen to an audiobook, even if just 5 minutes. Usually, those were the exact words I needed to hear that day, and they helped. I let that be enough. I also choose to do little things that made life flow easier…like letting my two year old daughter have her way without needing to control everything, even if it meant making a mess sometimes. She rewarded me with kisses and smiles.
In short, in the midst of those choppy waters of uncertainty, which lasted for months on end, while I still had no idea where I was going, I made the decision to just experience those waters without resistance. I would just see where the waves would take me and at the same time, take baby steps to knowing myself in the meantime. Time would show me the path.
Two years later, I am very much deep in this path of self discovery, I still don’t have a “goal” of where to arrive like I would have in the past, but I have evolved. In fact, I look back at photos from that time and hardly recognize myself–it was another Liz.
I have a sense of purpose now. I feel centered. I am comfortable in my own skin. I can really say I like myself and have become my best friend. I feel happy, and even radiant some days. I get there’s no right way or wrong to go about this business of knowing yourself. There is no place I have to “arrive”. I have nothing to prove nor achieve for anyone other than myself. Like I said, this is an evolution and a far cry from my controlling, obsessive, mind-driven, former self not so long ago.
Some days are easier than others. I now have a meditation practice every morning to get, and stay, connected to who I really am. Some days I do fall into resistance, but I try go with it and recover quickly. Other days, I may retreat into my ego–ugh–still working on that one a lot. On good mornings, like today, I come out of meditation in total flow and my day unfolds magically–it is a glimpse of what true bliss, and love, is. I can usually feel that by just observing my kids playing together. That love runs deep and I want to stay there forever!
My point is, the path to knowing yourself is not straight. I have realized it’s uphill, downhill, curvy, sometimes there’s a straight line for a while, but then, dammit, you hit a bend, and you start all over again. That is the richness of self-discovery. I really think that this is our true life’s work.
Queridos, dear ones, my Forty Second birthday celebrated this…recognizing my embarking on this beautiful journey of self-discovery and finally being completely committed to knowing and being myself. That’s what I came for—to know myself, to learn how to love, give love, share love, spread love. That’s it.
So this year, I truly sang “Happy Birthday to ME.”
