41

41.
I'm now 41.  In many ways this feels really quite different to 40. At 41 I think I am past the age of having a second child.... Which comes with some grief but also a quiet acceptance of my choice. I feel that I am also officially an adult, with all the guts and glory that the lofty title entails. I feel different. I question myself less. I care less what others think of me. I take risks more confidently. I avoid less and confront more. I have an abiding sense of time running out. I am firmer with myself. I make fewer excuses and I am learning to look less to others to blame or solve things for me, and more to myself to step up and take responsibility. I know how to work hard. I know how to fail and to succeed with grace. I don't let a failure make me feel like I am a failure. I have learned a lot and I am also more acutely aware of how much I don't know. I feel guilt for not knowing more at my age. Knowing seems more important than doing in some ways.  I am both more cautious, more thoughtful, and less cautious, more confident. I sound like a parent at times and it doesn't make me cringe because I am ok with being a mother, acting like a mother...  I am much more comfortable in my own quiet company than ever before.  Although I am not entirely free of the desire to be liked by others and a slight paranoia about not being liked is still hanging around, it is less debilitating than in the past.
I'm 41. I wish that life was much much longer. I want to live for at least another 4 lifetimes... But I won't and there is a little grief that tinges my choices now... There is just not enough time left for everything I want to do in life....
But I am 41... I am on my path.... I trust that I am walking in a good direction and I am committed to making the most of the time I have left.