In a few weeks I will be 40 years old.
Surprisingly it doesn’t bother me.
Unlike turning 30. I loathed turning 30.
I think I hated turning 30 so much because in my mind at the time, 30 was when you were officially an adult and you should have your life in order.
HA HA HA HA HAAAA!!!!
It wasn’t that my life was in “disorder,” but at the time I was jobless, hopping from part-time teaching job to part-time teaching job, and miserable.
During the 10 years since then, I learned that I had a lot of expectations for my life, and major expectations were not realized.
During those 10 years I also learned to tell all of my expectations to f*ck off, to do what I want, not care what other people may think, and be patient for things to work out.
Maybe it’s a coincidence, but I’m happy and at peace.
So I give my 30-year-old past self a big hug, and I face forward to 40.