I’m not gloating or trying to be boastful here. I’m just reflecting on what I thought forty looked like twenty years ago. It seemed so much older. I guess a lot of people age differently though. I have a 70 year old step mother. 70!? She honestly doesn’t look like at all like her mother did at 70. And she can hunt and fish and work in a yard made for a younger body and get shit done. I don’t think I’ve ever told her how impressed I am by these feats, but I am.

But back to me. I’m one year away from forty. One year. It doesn’t really loom over me like I’m making it sound though. It’s just another number. I’m still going to go play hockey, run, drink and occasionally forget I’m forty and act like I’m twelve. I will get hurt, but I’ll get better. Maybe it will start to take longer to get better. Maybe it won’t. I’m not really worried about it. It’s just life.

I’ve learned a lot about myself in the last couple years. I can look back on my life and see a roller coaster of emotions. Highs and lows that don’t even come close to the same universe, yet alone one life. I’ve learned that I can control a temper I never thought I could. I’ve learned that the supposed “fake confidence” I always thought I had, can be real confidence if I don’t down play it down to make myself believe that’s all it is. I’ve learned I have no reason to ever doubt myself. Let other people do that for me and then go prove them wrong like I always said I would do. Stop letting myself believe that anything any of them ever said had even an ounce of truth and just be me. Like me. Love me. Because you know what? I’m a pretty awesome guy. Again. Not boasting. I feel good about me. I’m allowed that and so are you.

I’ve been in therapy. I’ll probably go back. It’s good for me. It’ll be good for you. It’s a place where you don’t feel judged. Where you can bounce your own ideas of someone and find your own answers. It’s like having a guide through a forest you’ve been to a hundred times, but the trail isn’t worn out so you need a compass or a little direction, but only enough to find that spot you always sit at with the space on the roots to sit your coffee cup.

I have three little girls I’m raising. They grow bigger (ok maybe not physically, they’re all pretty small, but Bella has long legs and she may be the tallest in the family one day.) But they grow. Their personalities, their ideas and their ability to argue just enough to drive me nuts and then they back away. Pushing those boundaries and pressing those buttons they know will send their mother or myself to the edge of insanity. Just to see how far they can go. One day that will help them in their life. Right now? It’s just a challenge to me and their mother. But we’re doing a good job. Hell, I’d go as far to say we’re doing  great job. I adore my daughters more than any written words on a paper could ever describe, but I’m not afraid to tell you or them when I’ve had enough. And one day they’ll respect that and understand it more than they do today. I know my life may get harder as they grow. Teenage life. Three of them. I’ll survive. And they will to. It’s going to be another roller coaster, but I expect it and trust myself, their mother and them to get trough it and come out the other side better for it.

Their mother…My wife. It’s been almost ten years of marriage. Blissful, loving, argumentative and chaotic marriage. I love her. That part is easy. The rest? We do well at. We do better at it now. It’s been almost 13 years together. I read a quote somewhere that the longer you’re married the more and less likely you are able to give good advice on marriage. It makes sense. Each one is its own. Just like each one of the individuals in it are. Partners in life, but separate entities. You have to allow yourself to take care of yourself in that relationship too. Like being on an airplane. Put your mask on first, help the next person after. Learn to help yourself and then you can learn to help others. And be better at it. Resentment is a place you can fall all too easily inside and the ride out is more difficult than the one you didn’t realize you were riding into.

It’s been a long haul and I wouldn’t change (most) of it.

Forty years is coming…but I’m ok with that.