I’m standing on the precipice of a new decade: my forties. Foreboding music plays.

No, but seriously, turning 40 as a woman is terrifying. Society and the patriarchy have given us these boxes that we’re supposed to check: marriage, kids, a dog, maybe some chickens. Not to mention the pressures of maintaining your 40-something-year-old body to look like your 22-year-old body.

So what happens when none of those imaginary boxes get checked? Well, life keeps going; you heard it here first. Unless I somehow manage to get married, pop out some kids, adopt a dog, and move to a farm in the next nine months, I’m entering my 40s much as I entered my 30s: single, unsure of myself, and probably 10 pounds heavier.

I wanted to start writing again and document not only my travels (because let’s face it, that’s why you’re here) but also my journey.

Earlier this year, I chose “Reclaim” as my word of the year. Have you ever done that? Picked a word that you wanted to live out? Sometimes it works, sometimes it’s bologna. But I made a promise to myself that this year, it would be different. And I meant it. I wanted to reclaim parts of myself that I had lost to burnout, bad relationships, societal and social media pressure to be perfect, and a few mental health struggles. Since we’re being honest.

I can confidently say I’ve been successful with my plan. I’ve been putting myself first, slowing down when I travel, being more intentional with my time and money, and learning how to set boundaries. That last one has always been a challenge for me. It has not been easy.

It’s important to realize that success looks different for everyone. As the saying goes, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. Maybe success looks like a white picket fence in the suburbs for you. For me, success looks like deleting Uber Eats from my phone and cooking dinner for myself. Baby steps.

So here I am. Seven and a half months away from turning forty and officially being “over the hill”. I don’t know what to expect. Will I wake up on April 15th and suddenly crouch over with a bad back? Will I regret not having kids or prioritizing a romantic partnership these past few years? Will it finally happen? You know what I’m talking about.

With all of those questions, I am pretty excited (and nervous) for this next decade. While I am certainly not the only woman in the world to be single in her 40s, it does feel like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking so many possibilities. The view from up here looks pretty good.

So here’s to the next chapter. Whatever it looks like.

xo – mt