Greetings from the Halftime Show
Happy 43rd birthday to me
I turned 43 today.
This holds some significance in that my grandmas, Dorothy and Arlene, died at 86. So did my great-grandma, Lenora
Mentally, this feels like my halfway mark. If I’m lucky, I’ll get 43 more. In high school, I lettered in yearbook AND academics, so my experience with halftime pep talks comes exclusively from Friday Night Lights and Ted Lasso. However, professional writers put those speeches together, which probably means they’re better than the real thing. So let me apply this faux mustache, slap a Believe sign, and get after it.
Get in here and sit down, you sonofabitch.
I know you think you should’ve done more by now. Landed that book deal. Learned how to bake bread from scratch without almost burning your house down. Broken up with Instagram for good. Mastered applying eyeliner so you don’t end up looking like a drunk raccoon fishing through a Hardee’s dumpster at 3am.
But before you go back out there, I need you to see what I see.
You always feared you’d marry the wrong person, but picked someone who makes you feel loved and safe. It’s one of your least stressful relationships, and I know few people who could say such a thing– even those in very good marriages! I can tell you still find him attractive. Even when he’s sporting a Tom Selleck ‘stache. Maybe especially. Dammit woman, why do you love mustaches so much?
I know how much you worried about becoming a mom. You feared it would destroy you, and you know what? It kind of has. I’ve watched you surrendered more of myself than you’d care to admit– like your career aspirations (goodbye, dream of ever being a young professional– or a middle-aged professional– in NYC!). Your body looks and feels different in ways you never anticipated— remember the time you spent $30 on a scrub to rid your upper arms of chicken skin? Remember how it didn’t work, but at least felt like it was doing something? And your body was nothing compared to the changes in your brain, which played some very uncool tricks on you.
And yet I can tell you’ve never loved anyone as much you love those kids. They’ve intensified every emotion you’ve ever felt, both on and off the field. You’ve bawled your eyes out dropping them off at school, sending them into the world as their own little people. They’ve pushed you to the brink of insanity, causing you to scream into a pillow so hard that your throat hurt the next day. You mess up constantly, and they still tell you that you’re The Best Mom Ever, and what really gets you is that you believe they believe it.
You are fortunate to not have enough fingers and toes to count those who love you. And not just the best version of you, but the real one. The one who lacks patience, is self-critical AND critical of others, and often lacks motivation to do anything productive.
You’ve written a book. You’ve visited all seven continents. You get to live with two dogs. You’ve seen the Chicks in concert four times. You drive a station wagon, which might not sound cool to most people, but it’s the coolest to you. You can deadlift a lot of weight. You don’t love everything about yourself all the time, but are secure in who you are. You know what you like and need, and are getting so much better at asking for it. You’ve spend a significant amount of time working on getting here, and it’s been real work. Therapy, reading, reflection, and making time to think about what you can do better. You’ve discovered what an outlet writing can be for unearthing meaning when you haven’t been able to make sense of it in any other way.
If this is the halfway point, know you’re killing it, even on the days it doesn’t feel that way.
Here’s the thing, champ: the second half of life goes way faster than the first, and I know that because it’s one thing every single elder says. Generally, while very bad at using cell phones and Facebook, they are very smart about things like that.
I know whatever time remains will include incredible highs and heartbreak. I know you’ll be forced to face events that split your life into befores and afters. So take a moment to marvel at your first half, and know you’ve got what it takes to tackle the second. And you didn’t get there purely by accident, but through grit, tenacity, and yes, some dumb luck.
Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
Thanks for reading Hey Eleanor!
Here’s my birthday post from last year: 42 Things I’ve learned in 42 Years— now without a paywall!
Happy Birthday friend!
Love you just how you are, Molly!