The weeks leading up to my 40th birthday were filled with giddy anticipation, as if I were about to shed a very tattered, old coat and emerge glowing, swathed in silk, to a chorus of angels. Forty seemed to be the magic number, a turning point, a righting of the ship. I’d wake up on my birthday imbued with the Super Powers I’d always wanted: confidence, clarity, purpose.
Instead, I woke up feeling pretty much the same as always: somewhat ambivalent, stressed about minor details, strung out on motherhood and unfocused about the future. Continue reading “Deep Thoughts From a Late Bloomer”