Clarity No. 2: On the Eve of 47

And for the first birthday I can remember, I’m not immediately thinking about who I need to become by the next one.

That feels like something.

I’ve spent a lot of birthdays looking ahead.

Maybe by next year I’ll be healthier.

More confident.

More successful.

More settled.

Maybe I’ll finally figure out whatever thing I thought everyone else had figured out before me.

There always seemed to be another version of me somewhere in the distance.

And I was always trying to catch her.

I never really wanted to get older just for the sake of getting older. What I wanted was what I thought age would eventually bring.

Stability.

Peace.

Choices.

The ability to build a life that felt like mine.

I assumed there would come some point when I knew myself well enough that things would get quieter in my head. I’d stop questioning so much. Stop carrying so much. Stop wondering whether I was doing life correctly.

Tomorrow I’ll be 47, and I can confirm that age does not magically do any of those things.

But something has changed.

I have.

Not in some dramatic before and after way.

I’m still ambitious.

I still overthink.

I still take on too much sometimes and then wonder why I’m tired.

I still want to learn everything, do everything and occasionally have to remind myself that there are, in fact, only 24 hours in a day.

I’m still very much me.

But I understand myself better.

And maybe more importantly, I trust myself more.

For a lot of my life, I was reaching.

In my twenties, I wanted to figure out where I belonged.

In my thirties, I thought I was chasing health.

Looking back, I don’t think I was really wishing for a smaller body as much as I was wishing for a lighter mind.

I wanted to feel strong and capable, but I also wanted to stop feeling like I was carrying everything all the time.

Then came my forties.

And somewhere in this decade, without one big moment I can point to, I started paying closer attention to the life I was actually living instead of constantly measuring it against the one I thought I should have.

That doesn’t mean I stopped wanting things.

Not even close.

I love learning.

I love working toward something.

I chose a career that keeps my mind moving because that matters to me. I’m studying for my CFP® at 47 because I want it, even when the material absolutely hands me my ass.

I still have goals.

Big ones.

I still want to grow, build, learn, travel, get stronger, become better at my work and keep becoming a better wife, daughter, sister, friend and human.

I don’t think wanting more is the problem.

I think the problem is when we expect “more” to finally make us feel okay.

I did that for years without realizing it.

One more accomplishment.

One more milestone.

One more thing checked off.

Then I’d feel different.

Except every finish line comes with another starting line.

There will always be something else I can improve.

Something else I can learn.

Something else I can accomplish.

And I genuinely love that about life.

I just don’t ask achievement to save me anymore.

That might be one of the clearest things I know at 47.

Because when I look at the life I actually love, most of it would never make a résumé.

Coffee while the sun comes up.

Moving my body and appreciating what it allows me to do.

Learning something today that I didn’t understand yesterday.

Having a conversation with a client that matters.

Laughing with Mike.

Talking to my mom.

Making plans with my sister.

Texting first.

Sending the card.

Planning the get together.

Finding a small gift because something made me think of someone I love.

Going somewhere beautiful just because we can.

Coming home and being genuinely happy to be there.

None of that looks particularly impressive from the outside.

But those are the things I would miss.

That tells me almost everything I need to know.

I’ve spent a lot of my life thinking about what I want to accomplish.

At 47, I’m much more interested in another question.

What do I want my actual life to feel like while I’m accomplishing it?

Because the ordinary days count too.

Actually, they count the most.

Life isn’t mostly birthdays, promotions, vacations, graduations or big announcements.

It’s Tuesday.

It’s making coffee.

Going to work.

Taking the walk.

Having the conversation.

Doing the next chapter.

Calling someone you love.

Deciding what gets your energy and what doesn’t anymore.

It’s all the little things that barely seem worth noticing while they’re happening.

Until one day you look around and realize they became your life.

This year has made me more aware of that than I wanted to be.

Time is not theoretical.

We can plan for decades and I hope we get them.

I certainly plan to.

But there are no guarantees that the people we love will always be sitting where they’re sitting today.

That doesn’t make me want to live recklessly.

It makes me want to pay attention.

There’s a difference.

I want to make plans for the future without constantly living there.

I want to love people while they’re here.

I want to enjoy my body for what it can do instead of spending my life criticizing it for what it isn’t.

I want meaningful work without needing my work to be the measure of my worth.

I want to keep becoming more capable without treating who I am today like some unfinished problem.

And I want to stop postponing appreciation for a life I once would have been incredibly grateful to have.

That may be the part that has surprised me most.

I’ve built a lot of what I thought some older, wiser version of me would eventually find.

Not perfectly.

My life isn’t perfect.

Neither am I.

But I have stability.

I have choices.

I have meaningful work.

I have people I love.

I have a body that lets me participate in my life.

I have curiosity.

I have plans.

I have a home I’m happy to come back to.

And I have more peace inside myself than I used to.

Not because 47 gave it to me.

Because somewhere along the way, through thousands of ordinary decisions, I built more of it.

Writing these Clarity pieces has become one way I stop long enough to notice that.

If someone reads them and sees a little of themselves, I love that.

But they’re doing something for me too.

They’re reminding me to look at my own life while I’m living it.

Tomorrow I’ll wake up 47.

Of course I have things I want to learn, build, strengthen, and experience before 48.

I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.

But I’m not asking 48 to bring me a better life.

I’m not waiting for some future version of myself to finally arrive and take over.

I like the woman who is here.

I’m proud of how hard she has worked.

I’m grateful she kept going.

And I’m curious about where she goes next.

But mostly, I want to be here for 47.

Not rush through it.

Not improve my way out of it.

Just live it.

And notice it while it’s happening.