Hello 60. It's Me, Paula

The countdown begins. My 60^th birthday is March 30.

How did this happen? Why am I having such a hard time with this number? For someone who absolutely loves the attention bestowed upon her on the anniversary of her birth, this is the first and only birthday that I have ever dreaded.

At 30, I was a working mother with an infant daughter and energetic toddler son. I had no time to celebrate that birthday, but it became a historic date with John Hinckley’s failed assassination of President Ronald Reagan. My husband and I celebrated our 40^th birthdays with a huge party that cost more than our wedding reception 17 years earlier. No black, “Over-the Hill” balloons for us – 40 was fabulous! Even 50 was a birthday I welcomed, commencing with an entire weekend of girly fun with 20 dear friends and family in Palm Springs – secretly planned and precisely executed by my then twenty-something daughter and beautiful nieces. Now, 60 is looming – and until my near meltdown last week it was a milestone that I not only dreaded, but refused to verbally acknowledge. Why was turning 60 so hard for me to accept? Anyone? Anyone?

Before I go further, let me share a little bit about my almost-60 self...in no particular order. I am active. I am healthy. I eat right, and take my vitamins. I have been a teacher, a business owner, and was recognized for my entrepreneurial accomplishments. I currently work in the world of event fundraising. I have too many pairs of shoes. I can no longer read without glasses, and I have almost as many pairs of readers as I have footwear. My "style" is classic – with a dash of flair! I love to dance. I cherish friendships. I am the queen of entertaining. I say the F-word occasionally. I enjoy my kid’s friends – and they like me. I drive faster than I should. I have officiated two weddings. I have had no “work” – and I have the wrinkles to prove it. I know all of the words to Bohemian Rhapsody, Don’t Stop Believing, and Me and Bobby McGee to name just a few - and I sing-along loudly every time I hear these and other classics. I cry at weddings and Hallmark commercials. I am a bleeding heart liberal. I am tolerant. I am not tolerant of intolerance. I love my husband, kids, and their significant others. I am looking forward to being a grandparent. I have a wonderful life.

During my aforementioned meltdown, I found myself in a dark place that can only be understood by someone facing the reality that they have lived more years of their natural life than they have remaining. My usually upbeat self slipped into a depression of sorts – a nearly suffocating, all-consuming onslaught of negativity, fear, and remorse. We aren’t prepared for retirement. This house is too big for us. I am not where I thought I would be in my career. It’s too late to start over. Why didn’t I write my book? What have I done with my 60 years? I found myself in such a dangerous state of mind that it scared the crap out of me. And it was all due to a stupid numeral. I was giving 60 too much negative power.

Thankfully my husband is a great listener and my best friend, and after I confided in him my innermost fears, he gave me what I needed at that moment – his unconditional love and support. He heard me. He understood. He reminded me we are in this together, and helped me get through my lowest of moments. Now it’s time to start doing something. I have so much to be grateful for, and I will not be defined by a birth date.

This blog is Step One on my road to acceptance of my upcoming milestone. Hello, world – my name is Paula and I am going to be 60. I will celebrate by sharing my 60 years of life experience and wisdom. I will show the world what the new 60 looks like. This is not my mother’s 60.

Stay tuned for my “mid-century modern” observations. Look out 60 - Paula's on her way!