Dear 40,
I can't believe it but somehow 30 has managed to find me.
But my face is still freckled and I'm often asked to prove that I've been alive for at least 18 years, so I guess this rite of passage has been as minimally traumatising as possible.
Since I reached out to 37 three years ago, I've managed to lock down my life partner and he's more than I could have ever hoped for.
He deeply respects me, inspires me to be the best version of myself and is never intimidated by my opinionated, passionate and independent nature. He's my best friend, biggest supporter and I never have to take the bins out (#winning).
I also feel validated in knowing that the shall-not-be-named floggy frogs I invested time in before finding Prince Charming were actually worth every moment of the post relationship self-doubt and self-loathing because they showed me what I DIDN'T want in a person.
In the past few years I've also discovered that a huge part of life is about choosing your battles; about knowing when to say f*************k and when to say f**k it. It's been a transcendental discovery and if I could, I'd go back five years and tell littler Little Miss Lou Who to calm her farm and get on with it. I couldn't even tell you what 99.83% of my stresses were back then...so clearly they weren't even remotely worth the energy.
Another thing I've acknowledged since getting older is how much more I empathise with my parents; how I'm better able to understand their perspective on the world and place greater value in all the little moments with them.
I'm also not THAT far away from bringing my own squalling, pooping, entirely dependant tiny human into the world. And holy shit, it's a confronting thought but in the last few years, I feel like I could actually manage it quite well and without choosing to buy myself shoes over their nappies/baby clothing/vaccinations (which would condemn mini spawn to a therapy-riddled adolescence and the archaic potential to contract measles).
I must say though, I am a lot more tired now, 40. Sleep has taken priority over those "just one more drink" Saturday nights (i.e. four hours and a three day hangover later) and my ankles and knees pop with greater frequency than before. There are also lines near my eyes and creases on my forehead (totally self inflicted - my mother did warn me about furrowing), but somehow I feel more comfortable in my face than ever before.
In conclusion, I certainly thought 30 would be much more frightening than it is, 40. When I was 21, it seemed to me that 30 meant being a grown up; responsible and settled and boring. And it is all those things. BUT...I've found that you also don't lose the essence of your youth; it continually evolves of course, but it's still there and I think it always will be.
So just remember that, 40. You may be older but don't forget that deep down, inside, you're the same girl you always were and always will be. Time and age won't wear that away unless you let it.
I'll see you in 10.
Peaceful and calm(er),
30
