39 in New Beginnings

I turned 39 on Sunday. It didn’t really register that it was my birthday. It usually doesn’t, but much less so this year. Even without the pandemic I don’t really have any friendships, no close ones, at least. I guess my birthday gift was an hour of less sleep with daylight savings going into effect. Last week was also spring break, so I got a week off from work.

I’ve been thinking about the following for a while. I was actually thinking I’d write a journal entry on the subject anyway, but I figured saving it for my birthday would be more poignant. Growing older should be accompanied with deeper ponderings, right? I’ve been wondering what older people dream about. When you’re young, you fantasize about your potential, like things you’ll eventually do or the person you’ll ultimately become. So much of your life is before you, and especially in your twenties, you have the time, energy, and means to become anything. With my 30s almost entirely behind me, I’m forced to accept that my potential has been spent. Where I am is probably the farthest I’m ever going to get in life.

When I was younger, my fantasies were very physical. I aspired to hone my body to be super strong and aesthetically pleasing. I imagined my academic prowess from high school and college would translate into an especially prestigious and prosperous career. I dreamed about finding a beautiful woman who didn’t care about becoming a mother and would rather travel with me to romantic, exotic locales.

When you’re young, it’s fun to think about what you want because you feel it’s coming to you. You literally are looking forward to it. When you’re older, thinking about what you want is almost torture because if you haven’t achieved or acquired it by now, you probably won’t. Those opportunities are gone.

My romantic options are limited if they even exist at all. Most women my age either have kids, or if they don’t they’re looking to have them before they can’t. Even those who are younger, but still age appropriate for me, have gotten to the point where their biological clocks have gone off. Not that I live in an area where there’s an abundance of eligible women. Not that it would matter if I did. I went out on that date with Evelyn almost exactly a year ago, and considering how she ghosted when she’s facing nearly the same limitations as I am, I must be especially repellent. A few months after Evelyn, I had my phone date with Haley, and I did whatever I do to chase her off. Perhaps Erika was my last chance, and I screwed myself over by letting her get away. She’s married now, though, and by all accounts happy according to social media, so perhaps she’s better off. I’d never wish to undo someone else’s happiness for my own. That leaves Holly. It’s been four years, though. Whenever I think about reaching out to her, I also think about all the baggage I didn’t want to sign up for. I didn’t want to be tied to her financial recklessness. I didn’t want to be with a woman who would never be willing to meet my physical needs. I didn’t want to live with another hoarder (her mom), especially after enduring 10 years of that affliction from my dad. Even if Holly was still available or interested, I don’t think pursuing her again would be a wise choice on my part.

So romance is likely expired for me. That leaves my career. I’m not doing bad. I’m gainfully employed in a position with meaning. I like helping my students succeed. That said, most of the students I work with are in their early twenties or late teens. So much of their lives and opportunities are still a head of them; another reminder that mine are not. Some days, I feel inspired to try and find another corporate position, to see how high I could rise with the wisdom and experience I’ve accumulated. Then, I’m reminded of the nightmare my last corporate accounting position was. Further complicating matters is that I’m at the age where I should reaching a professional peak in the corporate world, not beginning again with an entry level position. Even if I did find another such position, the company would expect someone my age to have more recent and more impressive industry experience. Not only that, I’m good at what I do, and while it doesn’t pay what I potentially could be making, I made good financial choices when I was starting out and paid off all my debt, so I’m genuinely doing well where I’m at. I’m not sure the risk of making that change would be worth the potential reward.

Lastly, my health-a younger version of me would have used working out to battle all the aforementioned negative feelings and thoughts. Now, I’ve always got some ache or injury that nags me. My knees are doing good as I’ve been consistent in my strength training and rehab. A few weeks ago, I somehow injured my right shoulder, chest, and/or bicep (I’m not sure). I’m thinking it’s the ligament that connects my bicep to my chest, judging by where the pain is. Even without the pain, I just don’t have the passion for it anymore. That fire I had when I was younger has given way to comfort, not that such an exchange is a bad one. When I get off work at the end of the day, I’m happy to go home and read, or play games on my PC, or watch Netflix with the cats. That’s what recharges my batteries now, until I take off my shirt to shower, see what my stomach is becoming or how my chest is sagging and wish I had went to the gym instead. I’m still doing Jiu Jitsu, but just barely. I’m going to have to take several weeks off because of my shoulder pain. That’s especially demoralizing since I already took so much time off because of my knee surgery last year. My training partners who didn’t take the time off have caught up or surpassed my skill level. Taking more time off is only going to make it more challenging when I come back, but what choice do I have? An injury needs time to recover. We’re having a promotion ceremony this Saturday. I have a sinking feeling I might be moved up to purple belt. I’d rather that not happen; I already feel like a bit of an imposter at my own rank.

None of this should matter though. In a way it doesn’t matter because it forces me to realize what does. I don’t talk much about the following. I’m not sure why. Maybe I’m reluctant to discuss because I don’t want to invite criticism or argument, especially in my journal which is supposed to be a haven for me. Perhaps the issue is that writing about it is difficult. Doing so may come off as judgmental or self aggrandizing or hypocritical in comparison to other things I’ve written. It would never be my intention, but intentions are often unrelated to results. That aside, this is my journal, and I should be able to be honest about myself and who I am here if nowhere else.

I’m a Christian, and as a Christian, I’m supposed to focus on the eternal. It’s funny what gives me comfort now compared to what I expected would give me comfort at this age when I was younger. Before I finished my undergraduate degree, I decided to take on my first sponsor child with World Vision. A few years later, I began sponsoring his brother as well. Not long after that, I discovered I could make donations separate from my sponsorship. I started buying livestock for impoverished farmers and helping to finance clean water sources. Eventually, I read an article that said it was best to not earmark my donations, so the charity could adapt to needs as they take priority. Since then, I’ve just been marking my donations to go to “where needed most.” A few years after beginning my support of World Vision, I started donating to Smile Train and, a little later, Mercy Ships. It seems so obvious now, but having small a hand in restoring sight to the blind, fixing facial deformities, removing tumors, or granting someone the ability to walk gives me more comfort now than however many pushups I was once able to do. That’s probably the take away as what’s going to give me comfort when I’m even older. No matter how healthy or strong my body is, I’m ultimately in the process of expiring and moving to a condition of feebleness. Regardless of whether I find a woman to marry, I can’t find happiness or fulfillment in another flawed human being like myself. No matter what professional title I acquire for myself or how robust my paycheck may be, it’s more important that I use whatever I have to benefit others in desperate need. That’s what’s going to give me the most comfort when I eventually reach the end of my days. I should focus on being grateful that I likely have the time to keep investing in eternity. This is me at 39.