Entering My Second or Is It My Third Act

2010 began with the usual cautious optimism.  Suffering from a case of terminal unemployment I was already feeling used up and obsolete, but the real panic set in as my birthday approached.  Lets face it, birthdays are no longer the “best day of the year next to Christmas.”   Once you can legally drink and sign for an apartment its all down hill from there.  But this birthday was like no other I had experienced because this was that birthday.  Yes several months ago I turned the big five oh…oh no!  I knew all through last year that it was approaching, but the actual arrival hit me upside the head like a two by four.  It was shocking, depressing, miserable and many more adjectives than my increasingly atrophied brain can conjure up.  The thing is that I’ve had these milestone birthdays before and the anticipation was worse than the event itself. 

When I turned 30, I was working as an editor at my favorite job to date.  I had bosses that I liked and who liked me, along with co-workers that were also friends.  I even split from a long time boyfriend and was eased through the breakup by focusing on my job.  But the thought that I would no longer be a 20something left a sinking feeling in my stomach.  I grew up hearing that you should never trust anyone over 30 and now I was joining that group, not by my own choice but kicking and screaming.  Literally I stayed in bed all day on my 30^th birthday, hoping that this was a nightmare on par with the one I had about Frankenstein destroying the subway when I was a little girl.  All I had to do was stay put and upon waking it would be over and the world would be the way I remembered it.  Well that didn’t happen but a funny thing did happen.  The next day I pulled myself up and found that really nothing had changed at all.  Yes I was no longer the 20something I had longed to be since I was 10, but I was a 30 year old woman.  It was time to take charge of my life and get on with it.  And so I did.

Remarkably 40 was less stressful, maybe because the anxiety surrounding 30 turned out to be as significant as the Y2K hysteria.  So I turned 40, had a new boyfriend and job that I had applied for previously and been denied.  Now I was 40 and ready for the challenge.  In my mind I had finally grown up and come into my own.  Unfortunately the 40s didn’t turn out to be the coming out party I had imagined but I survived it in tact.  Everything changed on 9/11 and I made a promise to appreciate each and every day.  Like most resolutions the promise fell by the wayside and I fell into the usual day to day doldrums while maneuvering the maze of life.  I had several slightly promising relationships but nothing that panned out or I wouldn’t still be dating at 50!

As the first decade of the 21^st century faded into history I wondered what the second half of my life was going to be like and how to stay relevant in a rapidly changing society.  Before I was able to come up with even the shallowest answer it was too late.  My 50^th had arrived and I was sitting with my head between my knees trying to breath.  Fifty, half a century, officially middle aged. There was no more pretense or denial and please it is not the new 40!  In spite of the obvious, I tried to ignore it in the hopes that it would be like 30 or even 40, but no such luck.  This time I was in the grips of despair and a depression I couldn’t shake.  When I walked out of the house I irrationally believed everyone was looking and saying she used to be hot but now she’s not!

Now we are heading towards the end of another year which means I will turn 51.  Will it be uneventful or will I hurl myself off the Brooklyn Bridge or some other NY landmark?  I don’t know and don’t want to speculate but I do know that the game of life is not a joke and I need to figure out how to make the most of it because this is not a dress rehearsal.