Forty Years of Figuring It Out

What I've learned, and unlearned, about getting older

I recently celebrated my 40th birthday. Celebrated might not be the right word. It happened. It was my birthday and now I’m forty. It still feels a bit strange. Seeing that number on official documents or forms. When my dad turned forty, I was three-and-a-half, so my memories are mostly from old photos. My mom threw him a funeral-themed party. Everyone came wearing black. The room was full of black balloons, some saying, “Lordy, Lordy, look who’s 40!” I thought forty meant your life was over.

My dad’s 40th birthday decor

Forty is “over the hill,” as the saying goes. I know that it’s common wisdom to view age as just a number. Or maybe it’s a coping mechanism, I don’t know. No one seems to “feel” their age, until we start getting aches and pains, and then we say we “feel old.” But age doesn’t really have anything to do with pain. Our perception of getting older has changed over the last few decades as well. Traditional life trajectories have evolved into something far less pre-determined and narrowly focused, experimenting with different career paths and family structures have become more commonplace, and we’re more open as a society about not having things figured out. Not to mention biohacking and longevity trends that have people looking younger, acting younger, and, maybe, even living longer. The evidence is yet to be seen if cold plunges really add years to your life, but there’s no harm in hedging your bets.

Despite what seems like progress, I think everyone feels the weight of societal pressures and expectations to some degree. Performance milestones and comparing ourselves to others can be stressful, perhaps even undoing whatever benefits we get from our “mindfulness practices.” I have no doubt it’s uncomfortable when people from my hometown ask my mom, “What’s Nicki up to these days? What does she do? Does she have a family?” I’ll be honest, I don’t even know how to answer these questions. I typically avoid situations where I have to, or I default to something vague like, I’m a writer or an actor. If it’s a stranger, I don’t get judged or questioned too much for not having kids yet since I look 10-15 years younger than I am (so people say and I not-so-humbly agree). 

But perhaps having easy answers in matters of small talk isn’t the goal? Underneath those labels and the sense of security that accompanies them, more often than not, lie the deep existential questions we are all faced with: Why am I here? Am I on the right path? Am I doing enough? Does any of this even matter? Maybe I’m wrong. I don’t actually know what people think about when they’re alone with their thoughts. It seems many people avoid it at all costs, distracting themselves with social media, television, culture wars, what have you. But it stands to reason that based on some of history’s greatest works of art and philosophical treatises that the question of meaning in life is a universal one. 

By 40, I definitely anticipated having more answers than I do. When my life took a left turn five years ago, I was introduced to a side of humanity I’d only ever read about or seen in movies. I mean, I had experienced some bullying in high school — think “Mean Girls” without the pink — but I had never been the subject of extreme harassment and hate, to the point of death threats and having doors slammed in my face. In a short amount of time, I experienced a lot of firsts. Maybe it was a “coming of age,” or a “loss of innocence.” Either way, it changed me.  

Being the target of a federal investigation and the subject of a false media narrative. Losing friends and loved ones, due to either mortality or morality. Losing my concept of safety and social acceptance. Losing my reputation and my hard-earned career. Learning the realities of the criminal justice system. Meeting and developing friendships with people in prison. Being betrayed and played by journalists and filmmakers. It’s been quite a ride, and that’s just scratching the surface. I don’t necessarily recommend my particular rite of passage, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything, most especially what I’ve gained as a result. I am a different person because of what I’ve witnessed and experienced. My biggest takeaway isn’t a particular piece of advice or way anyone should live their life. 

The gift I’ve received — earned might be a better word — now that I’m 40 is not something material, or even tangible to someone else. It’s also not something I can lose. It’s the knowledge that no matter what life throws my way, no matter what adversity I face, or challenge comes before me, I will figure it out. There’s a fine distinction between a laissez-faire attitude, like the one I had in my 20s, where I might have shrugged and said, “Ah, I’ll figure it out.” Whereas that was a result of delusion and inexperience, my current confidence comes from inner strength and wisdom. 

As far as I know, learning to trust oneself is not an intellectual pursuit. That is why so many intellectuals are quick to criticize those taking real risks to uphold principles. It’s easier to proselytize from the sidelines than it is to put it all the line for what you believe in. That’s not to say I haven’t made mistakes. I have. But each of my failures, and each of my successes, has taught me more about who I am and how I handle myself in extreme situations. For those lessons and the knowledge they’ve yielded, I am eternally grateful and humbled. No matter where you’re at in your journey, what’s more important than status, wealth, and security, is the feeling you have about yourself and how you’ll be if it all went away in an instant. Because the reality is, it can, and the more we embrace the fleeting nature of our circumstances, the more we can appreciate and find meaning in the moment that is before us. And when you look at life this way, age really is just a number on an official document or form, nothing more.