In my teens, I thought people in their forties were almost done with life – they had the house, the car and the kids; they had ticked off society’s checklist and were basically just waiting it out until it was time to kick the bucket.
I turned 41 last month, and it’s safe to say I have strayed off the conventional path. I don't own a house, I have no children and I haven't done half the things I want to. And, hopefully, I'm nowhere near the end of my days.
Religiously following a skincare routine over the past two decades means I don't look – or so I am told – like I'm in my forties. And in my head, I feel at least a whole decade younger. Since I started working on my fitness, I feel physically and mentally better too – for the most part.
I came across a TikTok video recently where a woman around my age echoed my thoughts – reporting that she looks and feels well younger, but experiences the disconnect between how she views herself and what society expects. Apparently there is a term for it, too – Millennial Age Dysmorphia – so it looks like I am not the only one.
So why do I not feel my age? It could be because it seems like I am almost living in reverse. I did the whole commitment and marriage thing in my twenties and thirties, and am now living a single and relatively freer life in my forties. Most of my friends are now younger than I am, including some from Gen Z, which surely has something to do with it.
In many ways, this freedom feels liberating – I have the energy to fit several things into my schedule. I can see friends when I want to, choosing to go out or stay in depending on my mood alone. I also have the time to pursue a range of hobbies, be it travel, going straight from work to Lagree classes or spending the weekends getting my scuba-diving certification, without any children’s schedules or family commitments holding me back.
It's not all roses, though. While some days it feels like I haven’t aged, on others, my mind and body seem like they are ageing faster than I would like to believe. I blame the forties each time my social battery runs how, for example, as well as when unexplained aches and pains pop up out of nowhere. I've also noticed my post-workout recovery takes longer now than when I first started.
Mentally, too, I am feeling the change – although I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. My patience for bad behaviour seems to be running thin, and I am not as forgiving of rude, arrogant or fake people as I used to be. In my twenties and thirties, I found it hard to say no and had much more tolerance than I do now. Now, my focus is on having a close-knit group of friends, whom I can be honest and be myself with. And I am not afraid to cut out those who don't reciprocate the effort I put into them.
That disconnect between my beliefs and how I conduct myself, and what is expected of me at “my age” is most apparent when I meet new people in social settings. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve been quietly judged for being divorced or not having children. It’s rarely said out loud, but I know the looks well enough by now – and I’m almost immune to them.
I’m also far less bothered by judgment than I used to be. So whether or not I walk the path expected of a 41-year-old, I’m content to enjoy what I have now – the feeling of being young, with, hopefully, the perspective that comes with getting older.
