I sometimes feel our history with our finances mirror the story of an addict. You hit rock bottom, you sober up. You work really, really hard towards getting your act together. Sometimes there are set-backs. Other times, you fall completely off the wagon and are in full crises mode once again. But eventually…hopefully…there is recovery. Long lasting recovery.
Starting over at 42, having already gotten my two oldest children almost to the finish line, I don’t know what I thought it would be like. We never had the traditional get married, buy a house, have babies timeline. When I was a new mom at 25, I was still in college and working. We were broke and struggling. Though I would have loved to have showed up and helped out in my daughter’s class, and gone on field trips and finger-painted in the middle of the day, if Momma didn’t work she didn’t earn any money. She couldn’t ditch school either.
Gosh, when I was 16, forty was Old! Not just old…but Ooooooooooold. And here I am, not just forty, but on the upswing to fifty. At the time I am writing this, I will be celebrating my 47th birthday next week. It’s almost incomprehensible to me. And it makes me appreciate the cliché that, age is just a number. I get it now. Like, I really, REALLY get it. I would never go back to twenty. Or even thirty for that matter. Because, for me, life really started getting exciting at forty.