I turn 40 soon.
Very soon. Like, tomorrow.
I’m not going to say I’m looking forward to this birthday for the first time like, ever. The reality is, I have probably reached the age where my birthday signifies “just another day”, which is a bummer. But I hope I haven’t had my mid-life crisis yet because I can’t afford a sports car. But to be honest I’m ready to put the last decade behind me. To understand why that is, let’s travel way back to 2011 when I turned 30.
Back then, I was in northern Indiana, working at a newspaper and married to a woman. Married, job, all the “adult” things you are supposed to do. But I still had a lot to learn about myself and life.
So while my early 30s were….not great. My mid-30s were mostly good. I made the best decision I’ve ever made by coming out. I also found my love of minor league baseball and craft beer and renewed my love of writing. (I’ve written about all this stuff in the past, search my archive.) I changed jobs, which helped me grow professionally. I bought my own place. Life was good.
My late 30s, however, were by far the most challenging period of my life. I had a couple very important people – including a parent – pass away, which was incredibly difficult, though it did change my sense of perspective. Life is short. I was ready for a change, and the pandemic expedited said change. I had found my soulmate, but all the hoops that I had to go through to make being with him resulted in a lot of change all at once. As you all know, I went from Indiana to Mississippi to Washington DC while a newlywed AND looking for a new job in less than a year. I said I was ready for a change, not all of the changes. It’s definitely been difficult and overwhelming at times. (If I’m being honest, I’ve probably cried more the past two years than my entire life previously, and I never really thought of myself as much of a crier.)
Most recently, I have been adjusting to DC. It’s still mostly good, which I’m reminded when we drive literally down the road to the Washington Monument and Capitol Building just because we can, and I love my job, but man is this city expensive. In my head, Bo and I would be eating at some undiscovered, kick-ass restaurant every weekend and going to see Hamilton or some sporting events all summer long. But it hasn’t worked out that way just yet. We got bills, you know? But that also means no minor league baseball and minimal brewery visits this summer. That’s been a bummer. But hopefully that is something to look forward to in the future. Water tends to find its level. This is where we will be as long as we both love our jobs.
I’ve definitely realized that it is time for me to take my physical and mental health more seriously. The previous paragraphs provide reason enough to focus on mental health, but as far as physical, I have definitely noticed some differences. I played tennis with a co-worker earlier this week. My desire to not move made me strongly consider switching to pickleball. My knees crack so loudly when I get out of bed I am convinced I will wake Bo up. Also I have a weird sciatic thing going on. Maybe it’s something that a good masseuse or chiropractor can fix, I don’t know. But that’s kind of the point. I always bounce back from maladies pretty quickly. I have heard that slows down now.
On the plus side, I also think on some level, entering a new demographic will help bring Bo and I closer. Don’t get me wrong, we are fine, but I’m guessing it sounds less weird to say his husband is 40 than 39. We can talk about aches and pains while waiting to meet our family physician or whatever, I don’t know. So that helps to keep me from dreading aging. Plus I’m in a new tax bracket I guess. So there’s that.
Who knows what the next 10 years will hold. Hopefully more good than bad. I guess we will find out when I write this post as I turn….40+10 (nope, not saying that number yet). But rest assured, for the next year, I will definitely be yelling “I’m a man, I’m 40!” like that college football coach did 10 years ago and “Kelly Clarkson!” like Steve Carell did in 40-Year-Old Virgin.
This Justin 