Oh, geez! How many times have we heard a woman say, “I gave him the best years of my life” and he….
I had a pop in friend this morning who believes she gave her husband “the best years of her life” and now they are getting a divorce. I almost resented her presence since this was the umpteenth time she has popped in to tell me that her life is over for all intents and purposes. I have listened patiently all the other times, hoping she would work her way through it. She hasn’t.
This young lady is forty and apparently, according to her the “lying, cheating son-of-a-bitch” is having an affair with his secretary who is twenty-seven. I don’t know… or care, for that matter… except that I hate seeing her in such despair.
One thing I learned a long time ago is not to take sides, even when I have an opinion. Who knows? They may get back together and if I have said one disparaging word against the “lying, cheating son-of-a-bitch” I will end up being the one who loses a friend. So, for months I have been sitting and listening, nodding acknowledgment of her grief and biting my tongue.
But, this morning she went into the “best years of my life” litany again. She has had time to get over the initial shock of divorce. And, what was hurt has now turned to anger. I’m sure she still feels betrayed. Who wouldn’t? But, they have been living apart for nine months or more and she is becoming bitter, clinging to a past that wasn’t all that glorious from where I sat anyway. They always ended up fighting every time they came over for a cook-out or to play cards. And, he always stormed out (and disappeared for hours) leaving someone at the party to console her and take her home.
But, now to the “best years of her life.” Oh, please. I was just getting started at 40. So, for all the young readers I’m going to try to give you a little hope. When I was eighteen I was “grown” or at least I thought I was. At 21, I had celebrated the early life milestones. By twenty-two I wasn’t so excited about not being a kid… I realized that a “j-o-b” was on the horizon. Once I got that nice corporate job, I was conflicted. I enjoyed the income, but I had to “dress to impress” and that wasn’t always who I was. So, I led a somewhat duel life… one in the corporate world, the other being me in my Bohemian clothes and flip-flops.”
Then came 30! Oh, my God! In all honesty, that was the worst year of my life. I think I was depressed for three months after my birthday. I had achieved a lovely corporate job. I was married to a Vice-President of a large well-known company. All my friends were strolling babies around. And, I was “expected” to live among and socialize with a certain socio-economic group. I realized that I could no longer throw my eccentricities off as “youth.” Everyone wanted to know when we were going to have children and yes, there I was reminded of that damned biological clock. I was deeply depressed.
The truth was simple. I hated my job. I hated living in a neighborhood where I was expected to wear designer clothes to take out the garbage. I could not stand bridge. I did not care how much money our neighbors made. And, I didn’t want children! I wanted to travel.
Then, much like my friend in despair, I found out that my husband was having an affair. Now… I’m not going to defend him for that… BUT… I wasn’t the model wife for what he wanted out of life. I began to withdraw emotionally. I do so hope that no one reading this can identify with this scenario. But, the truth of the matter is that sometimes “till death do we part” means until the death of love. We grew apart. Our life goals weren’t the same. Perhaps, they never had been. I had really tried to be what I thought he wanted, but the day came when I realized that I wasn’t that woman… and I didn’t want to be that woman. So, he found someone who liked and wanted the things he wanted. Divorce was inevitable. And, although it hurt… giving up something that is familiar always hurts whether the love is alive and well or has died.
I accepted a position with the company I worked for… in England. I wasn’t running away, as some would like to say. I had run away while I was still living with my husband, emotionally if not physically. So, by the time I landed in England, I was running toward a new life. I was filled with insecurities, those that come from a failed marriage. But, in a new land and with new faces, I had an opportunity to put the past behind me. I was lucky in that respect.
Admittedly, I made a conscious decision to take a year off. Oh, I went to work. I did my job. I made friends, but I didn’t engage in life beyond my own. I took a year to concentrate on me. I got in shape. I read books that I had always wanted to read. I painted. I played tourist. I learned to enjoy a meal in a restaurant alone. I found comfort within myself. And, I realized that I had not yet lived the best years of my life… and I certainly had not given them away. In fact, as I think back over time, the year after my divorce, my year of self-indulgence was one of the best years of my life. I spent my weekends at an ashram in England, learning the fine art of meditation and learning humility.
At 35 I made a trip to Liberia. It was business, but it changed my life… right back to the life I had always wanted. For the next four years I took my holidays in Liberia, working with the sick and the poor. I held starving babies. One died in my arms. I learned to bathe in a river and urinate and deficate on the ground. I washed clothes by dipping them in the river and beating them on a river rock. And, I learned to be grateful.
When my contract was up, eight years after I first landed in England, I returned to the United States, a different person. For a while I thought I had lived the best years of my life in England and Liberia. Then, I turned 40. Everyone wanted to celebrate it as if it were the top of the hill and there was no way but downhill from then on. I had endured the 30th birthday and had spent the next ten years learning about what is really important in my life.
Forty was a defining year for me. Instead of thinking that life should be about over, I learned that according to most statistics I had not quite reached the half way point of my life expectancy. I had not quite topped the hill! It was not time to be applying the brakes on life. And, at 40 there was no doubt in my mind. I knew exactly who I was and am. I had life experience to back me up. So, I started a new adventure. I began to follow my life’s dream. I actually became an artist! Well, as my present husband says… and “arr-teest.” I didn’t worry one iota about critics or naysayers. I began to create exactly what I wanted to create. I learned to create stained glass windows. I bought a kiln and began slumping glass. I bought a plasma torch and began making steel sculptures. I began to live. I did everything I had ever wanted to do and been told that I shouldn’t. The decade that followed my fortieth birthday was filled with learning and trying, growing and developing MY life. I loved every minute of it.
Then, I turned fifty. What a revelation! Oh, if you think you are your own person at thirty or forty… wait until you see fifty! For me, I learned that listening to gossip and sharing tales of what was going on the neighborhood is a waste of my time. I learned that I REALLY don’t care that I should be considering a short haircut, like women over fifty always do… or did. I learned that my opinion counts. I learned that I am as valuable in the universe as anyone. I learned that there is no hurry. There is time to enjoy.
I learned that “things” don’t matter. I shed all the extra “stuff.” I don’t like to dust and I’m not so good at vaccuuming so I got rid of all the things that collect dust. And, I have time to enjoy myself and my life’s work. I live to love and I love to live.
Now, I am approaching sixty. And, all I can say is that I am looking forward to the best years of my life, because I now know they are mine to shape as I wish, to do with as I wish, to enjoy as I wish. I can get up when I please. I can stay up all night if I choose. I can eat whatever I please and whenever I please.
I am living the best years of my life… and all because I decided they will be. I hope my young friend finds her best years in her future. And, I hope all the readers find their best years ahead of them too. But, it is a decision that only the person can make. There are years still ahead. Choose wisely.
