Supposed to be

We are all supposed to be someone.

I'm a woman, so I am supposed to want kids to raise and a house to decorate and a husband to love me.

I'm 40 - so I'm supposed to be sad that I have none of those things. I'm also supposed to feel all washed up.

I'm a "curvy girl" so I'm supposed to desperately try to lose weight (probably so I can attract that missing husband). I'm also supposed to have incredibly low self-esteem, and no self-confidence.

I'm a child of divorce, who is divorced herself, so I'm supposed to be cynical (at best) about love.

I come from a family that leaves - either physically or emotionally. So I am not supposed to trust, or know how to express my feelings. I am supposed to be scared and angry and depressed. I am supposed to react in anger.

I'm an only child, so I am supposed to be completely spoiled, selfish, self centered, and incredibly shy.

I'm sure some of that is true, or at least was true at some point. I certainly struggle with self-esteem and confidence. I am pretty spoiled. I haven't always been great at expressing myself. I'm sure some of those things come and go, depending on my circumstances. Some probably always will.

But those things do not define me. I have learned that every one of us can overcome who we are supposed to be. Things like family and childhood and past experiences do not have the last say in who we are.

In the end, we choose who we will become. It may be a long road, and we might trip and fall along the way - but the path is ours to make.

I am not who I am because of everything I have been through. I am who I am in spite of it.

As good a place as any

Twenty years ago, 40 sounded ancient. I expected to feel old. I expected to be married, settled in a home, and in a career that was pretty secure. Instead, I'm....not any of those things.

Which, I then expected would make me feel sad. I thought I'd feel like a failure; like I'd let my life veer terribly off course, and I was going to lose a bunch of time as I tried to steer it back.

Turns out, much like my thirties, I was totally wrong about forty.

The year I turned 38 was a particularly bad one; 39 wasn't much better. More than one friend assured me I had nothing to worry about. Things get better at 40, they insisted. It's when life begins.

Still skeptical, I figured it couldn't hurt to at least try. I started envisioning what I'd like my life to look like at 40. As the date drew closer, I wasn't sure it would work out. I kept hoping, praying, keeping my fingers crossed. Then - poof! It all came together.

I used to look at 40 as an ending. It seemed so old, so final - what could I possibly look forward to after 40?

I've come to learn that is entirely the wrong way to look at things. The end should never be the goal. It shouldn't even be acceptable. We shouldn't look for endings; only new beginnings.

I started this blog to talk about the lessons I learned when I accepted that my life was never going to look the way I planned. I was a "30-something figuring life out - again. " As I'm no longer 30-something, I've been thinking this blog needs a new central message.

Since 40 seems to be a good place for my life to start over, I guess it's a good place for the blog to start over, too.

Here's to new beginnings.... 40 is as good a place as any.

Mission accomplished

The past couple of months have been a whirlwind of change for me.

At the end of March I accepted a position with a new company, ending a nearly-14 year career. I still work in insurance, but on the other side of the wall.

That change was a big deal. I had to give up the perks that came with seniority and job security. I have to learn a lot, being back on the receiving end of training after so many years of being the "expert."

I couldn't be happier.

I've known for a long time I wanted the change - but finding an opportunity that made sense wasn't easy. Where I've landed seems to be a good fit. Still - it's tough to leave a job where you didn't have to think, and take on something new where every click requires a thought.

About a month after the first day on my new job, I moved into an apartment. A week later - I closed on my house. No big deal, right? I've talked about selling for years, and I knew I wanted to leave home ownership life.

But I'd lived in that house for eleven years. I only lived in my childhood home (which was an apartment) for thirteen years - so this house was my home. It held all of my memories (good and bad) and packing that up (or in most cases, throwing it away) was tough. Few things in life are more emotional than seeing your entire adult life bagged up and left to wait for garbage day.

But it was time. For years I have promised myself that I would not turn 40 with the same job or home address.

I turn 40 in 48 days.

Mission accomplished.