The Other Side of 40
So this is what the start of a new mid-life decade feels like
I’ve been 40 years old for nearly a month now (at the time of writing this).
And, my goodness, what sweet relief it is to be on this side of this new age.
I don’t think I’ve ever experienced such an intense lead-up to a birthday like this.
For months, I felt like a caterpillar going through its chrysalis stage.
In nature, when this occurs, the caterpillar's outer skin separates from its body, creating the chrysalis. Inside the chrysalis, the caterpillar's cells dissolve, leaving only the most vital. Specialised cells called ‘imaginal discs’ then develop into the adult butterfly's wings, legs, eyes, and other body parts. The butterfly emerges from the chrysalis, leaving behind a gooey fluid made of waste products from the transformation. The chrysalis stage can last a few weeks, a month, or even longer. During this time, the chrysalis loses nearly half its weight, demonstrating the amount of energy consumed during metamorphosis.
And I can tell you, those months for me felt every bit as painful, difficult, mind-boggling and relentless as that description portrays.
There were countless times that I thought I was losing my mind. Literally. I remember thinking, “Is this me now?” as I struggled to control or understand the feeling that my identity as I’d known it for 39 years was dead and gone, never to return. And I had absolutely no idea who I was or who I was going to be.
I spiralled to the depths of despair. There were days and weeks when a blanket of thick, opaque sadness cloaked me without reprieve. It was like being in a tunnel with no end. I was low, flat, dull… a shell of myself.
I lost my spark. I had nothing in my creative tank. It took every ounce of energy to do the jobs I could previously do on autopilot, and there was absolutely zero inspiration or motivation for me to write anything else. I had no clarity. I had no confidence. I didn’t want to be seen or noticed. I felt nothing like myself and had no idea when it (or I) would change.
It was brutal.
In the days leading up to my birthday, people kept asking me if I was excited and my response was always the same: “Not yet.”
But what I really wanted to say to them was: “Not at all… do you think it’s too late to tell everyone not to come?”
And then something really interesting happened.
On the day of my 40th birthday, I woke up at 4am.
My husband had surprised me the night before with my gift — a sunrise hot air balloon ride. So I got ready and we drove in the dark to Byron Bay, along with my friend Jody and my sister Vanessa.
As we stood in the basket and began to rise gently into the air, we transcended the fog that had settled across the early morning like a blanket and floated through the sky as the sun started to shine its warm, glowing rays across the 12th of September.
There was something incredibly symbolic about that fog and rising above it.
Three thousand feet up in the air that morning, I felt a calm and a peace that I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before. Obviously, never before in a hot air balloon, let alone with my feet firmly planted on the ground.
It later revealed more of itself after breakfast, as we hit the shops in Byron Bay.
Emerging from the dressing room in my favourite boutique, I saw myself in a completely different light as I examined my reflection in the mirror.
And then it hit me: it had finally happened.
I had not only emerged from the dressing room, I had emerged from my chrysalis.
I was now a butterfly.
Now, let me take this moment to fully acknowledge the epic amounts of cliché dripping from the screen as I type these words.
Like, of course, this happens on my actual birthday! Of course, I was in a hot air friggin’ balloon! Of course, I put on a fabulous dress and suddenly felt like a new woman! Of course!
Ugh, I knowwww. It’s almost embarrassing to admit this to you, but unfortunately (or fortunately?) it’s the absolute, utter truth.
Something shifted on my birthday.
The chrysalis cracked open. My old cells were left behind. My old self was left behind. And here I was, a new version of myself — age 40.
And now, as I approach the end of my first month of being 40 years old, I wish I could tell you that I’ve taken flight with my new wings and it’s been all sunshine and rainbows ever since.
But that would be a lie.
My birthday itself, though, was an amazing time — five days of celebrating with nearly 30 of my dearest friends and loved ones, locally and from all over the country. We ate, we drank, we shopped, we chatted, we laughed, we danced. It was everything I wanted it to be and more. I felt loved. I felt special. I felt celebrated.
Since then, life has returned to normal (as it does).
And as time has passed, I’ve had to acknowledge that I’m still in a period of transition. Of newness.
There have been growing pains. Misunderstandings. Disagreements. Disconnection. Moments of realising this really is a time of endings and beginnings. Feelings of grief, sadness and disappointment as well as hope, excitement and lightness.
I wouldn’t say it has been quite as brutal as those months leading up to my 40th birthday, but it hasn’t been totally smooth sailing either.
And I’m reminded, as always, that when a time is as new as this or when we are in a period of transition, all we can do is acknowledge it and begin to navigate it as best we can.
So that’s what I’m doing.
I joked in my birthday speech that this is me, Version 40.
But truthfully, I think we are a different version of ourselves every single day. Which, hopefully, on the tough days, gives us comfort and reassurance that tomorrow will be different. And, on the good days, reminds us of how sweet life can be… and how lucky we are to be living it.
Now, if you ask me, every day should also be accompanied by a soundtrack, and this is the playlist I curated for my 40th birthday. It is a compilation of disco, good times and some of my fave tunes. I hope you enjoy it.
Until the next…
awww I loved reading this 🥺 what a beautiful honest piece. also byron bay!! my favourite band parcels are from there, it seems like a lovely place
Ohhh Sonia, I think you’ve captured the lead up to 40 so well! I can feel your words as it echoes my own experience. The hot air balloon epiphany is just too poetic!! What a fabulous celebration of YOU!