I’ve been sort of freaking out about my upcoming birthday.  It’s a monumental one.  I just don’t feel forty. I almost can’t say it.  Seriously.  I’ve been doing a lot of psychoanalyzing on myself and have really had some realizations that  I think will help me through it.  First let me preface by saying I realize forty is young.  I know many people who are older than forty and seem very young to me so it’s not like I think forty is old. 

I have always been the young one.  I was the baby sister in a family with two older brothers.  I was one of the younger ones in school with an August birthday.  I started working for the State of Okahoma at 17 and was the youngest in the office.  Not only was I the youngest in years, I was always thought to be younger than my actual age.  People still mistake me for Amanda’s sister rather than her mother.  People act shocked to hear I am the age I am and instead of wearing that proudly I find myself embarrassed to admit my age and will sometimes be very vague about it saying simply, “I’m in my thirties.” which is not a lie.  Not for a few more days anyway.

Seeing Amanda grow up before my eyes and so quickly adds to the mix.  She is 19 now.  She leaves for her new home … a dorm room at the University of Oklahoma in a couple of weeks.  Don’t worry about a lack of activity in our household, there are still three to keep things moving, but there will be a huge void because she is such a big part of our daily lives.  I have compartmentalized these feelings waiting until the actual time to deal with it.  I’m good at that. Blue Cross North Carolina

So I have been thinking about beauty.  About associating youth with beauty.  I have been thinking about the fact that we all grow older…  About what I want to be when I grow up.  Not professionally, but just me.  Who I am and who I want to be.  I think I need to concentrate on inner beauty and stop freaking out about growing a year older.  I know it.  I hope that after the birthday comes and goes this thought will remain clear to me.