Stuff that's kind of great about being in your forties

My older sister and I are both in our forties now, and we both kind of love it. It isn't that we don't miss our younger, more capable bodies of former years... but there are some advantages to getting older that almost seem to outweigh the disadvantages. Such as:

I know where my emotions are coming from, and it is SO much easier to manage them

I'm pretty sure this doesn't happen to everyone, but both my sis and I have noticed a distinct uptick in our ability to remain calm. Of course some of this is about being able to let go of stress from the outside, but some of it is definitely about knowing ourselves and knowing how to manage ourselves. We know if we're cranky because we're tired, or major life stress is happening, or we just yelled at someone, and we further have this ability to recognize and then do what needs to be done in order to get ourselves out of this emotional trap. Take a nap, take a break, apologize, talk to a friend. All the stuff that has worked our whole lives, but somehow our ability to remember these techniques and actually use them seems to be improving. Neither of us is complaining.

I am much more able to recognize and label crazy or unhelpful behavior, while simultaneously being able to let go of judgment about the person engaging in the behavior

About that second part: I am old enough now that if I'm being honest, I know that I have probably engaged in that exact same crazy/unhelpful behavior in the past, and I also know that it's possible that I will engage in it in the future. :( When describing stressful situations to others, or listening sympathetically to their descriptions of stressful situations, I try to remember to describe the person "causing" the stress as a real human: capable of change and also probably under a lot of stress themselves.

And as to the first part: if a behavior is crazy or unhelpful, I am able to be so much calmer once I recognize it for what it is. Giving someone the benefit of the doubt means not judging their character on the basis of a few behaviors. Having good boundaries means that you recognize when a behavior or situation is causing you problems-- no matter how nice (or "nice") the person behind that behavior is-- and and choosing to take steps to solve those problems. Often that means going to the person and trying to work out a solution. Sometimes it means sucking it up/learning to let go. Occasionally it means removing yourself from the situation until things have changed. I used to only have the "try to let it go" response, but it isn't always the best response! Having the other two in my arsenal has helped me be calmer, happier, more cheerful, and (I think) a better friend.

I moved from being a silver medalist to being a bronze medalist

My brother-in-law was the one who told me about the conclusions mentioned in this article:
https://blogs.scientificamerican.com/thoughtful-animal/why-bronze-medalists-are-happier-than-silver-winners/

Basically the deal is that if you get a silver medal, you are most likely to be thinking about how if you had done just a little better, you would have gotten gold! But if you are a bronze medalist, you probably recognize the likelihood that if you had done a little worse, you would have not gotten a medal at all.

And this is how this works for me. I spent a lot of time in my twenties and thirties worrying about things which were not happening for me, which I wanted to happen-- some of which were more under my control than others. I wanted at least financial stability, if not success-- but, nada. It would have been nice to have found academic or any other kind of professional success, but again, not so much. And of course, elephant in the room, of course I wanted to be married, which is in some ways pretty far out of my control, but still... no dice.

Now, I will admit that some of my increased happiness in all of these areas is because I have made measurable gains in at least some of them. I have financial stability of a sort, as long as my mother keeps subsidizing my rent. In a couple of years, when I have my student loans finally paid off, I will even have it as a possibility to rent with roommates ("why don't you rent with roommates?" "It's too expensive") instead of being my mother's housemate. Professionally, I am working steadily on my writing, and have accepted that I'm not going to have a "real" profession other than that. And if I get married? It's a bonus! Ladies in their forties who get married for the first time are not even in the same race with those who married at a "normal" time, whatever that time was. It feels splendid to be less worried about it. I am doing things about it, but being able to let go of some of that stress is the just the best.

(If you know a lady in her thirties who is fretting about not being married, do please try not to scold her for it. Or tell her that marriage isn't that great. Or tell her that she should enjoy being single. If you enjoyed being single so much, maybe you should get divorced? Otherwise, stop picking on people who are already clearly stressed out.)

This is the thing. Unless you choose to stop being friends with people, stop reading or watching the news, stop basically participating in the human race, you will be confronted on a regular basis with people who have stuff that you want, but don't have, and you will probably be uncertain about whether or not they deserved those things more than you did. Failing, hard, at professional and financial things for about half of my thirties taught me that there are worse things out there than other, possibly-more-but-possibly-less-worthy-than-me people having things I wish I had. What I really want, and need, and this is backed up by research! is friends and family to confide in, to rejoice with, who trust me with their hard times and whom I can trust with mine. And since I started seeking that, I have found it, and while I will not be ungrateful (I hope!) when or if any of those other lovely cherries-on-top happen, I feel deeply, deeply grateful for what I have and for the chances I have to make my life even better.

To sum up: being in your forties is the BEST. I highly recommend hanging out on the planet until you get here, if you haven't already. :)

What I actually said at the funeral, as best I can remember (the "Life Sketch")

I wrote this the morning after the funeral and then edited a tiny bit in the middle of church, that same day. Underneath my own talk, I also wrote what I remembered of what the bishop and stake president said. (Relevant to their remarks is the fact that they are bishop and stake president in a Polynesian ward and stake in Utah, where the funeral was held.)

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One of Dad's best gifts to me, especially at the end, was that he wanted people to be able to learn from the past, which you can't do if you don't know the bad stuff. I'm not going to focus on the bad stuff today, but if you are interested in learning from it, ask questions, observe, be open.

I look a lot more like my dad than my mom, and my personality is a lot like my Dad's, both for the good stuff and for the bad stuff. I like the scripture in Mormon chapter 9 that says "Condemn me not for my imperfection, neither condemn my father; but give thanks unto God that he has shown unto you our imperfections, that you may know how to do better than we have done."

I was listening to a BYU devotional the other day, and the speaker said that he had tried to give other talks, but that this was the one that he needed to give. And I thought, that has never happened to me, it then I thought, oh, nope, it has. Dad's life sketch. I keep feeling like I should compare him to Jesus Christ.

So. Here goes.

Number one: obscure birth near sheep. [Everyone laughed at this, which I had hoped they would.] I have a work colleague who doesn't think much of Southeast Idaho, and in fact I can almost hear them saying, "Can there any good come out of Southeast Idaho?"

Next, he defied his parents to go to a place of learning. He went to BYU, even though his parents wanted him to attend Idaho State University. He also went to the temple when he was fifteen, and that was where he learned to love landscape architecture. He loved the temple his whole life.

He also sacrificed. When I was two, I needed a medical test which required me to fast for twenty-four hours. Dad thought it was unfair to ask a two-year-old to fast for that long, so he fasted along with me, and prayed that he would feel my hunger. Every time he told that story, he said it was the hardest fast of his life*, but that I acted like I wasn't even hungry. I walked by a candy machine without even noticing it.

This reminds me of the scripture in Alma 13 that says that priesthood holders should be types of Christ.

He also learned as he went along. Dad liked to create, and learned how to take pretty good photographs. Jesus also learned and grew. The scriptures say that he needed not that any man should teach him, but they also say that he grew in wisdom and in stature. I remember the one story about Jesus healing the blind man, and he put the clay in his eyes, and asked if he could see, and when he couldn't yet, he tried something else. So, Jesus didn't know everything at first, and had to learn some things. This means that when someone needs to learn something, that doesn't necessarily mean they're bad, so just keep that in mind. 

They also performed practical miracles. One time, Dad was driving to California and kept having car troubles, and finally gave the car a blessing. When he got to California, my grandfather, his father-in-law, said he shouldn't have made it, and Dad didn't know if he meant he shouldn't have driven in a car that bad, or that it wasn't possible that a car in that state could have driven that far.

He also loved the islands of the sea. He always talked about how much he loved the Polynesian assemblies at BYU, and how they were his favorite assemblies. He especially loved New Zealand, but he never did get to travel there. I was talking to friends about this, and he did get Maori grandchildren, and we figured that this was probably better. [This also got a laugh, which I was pleased about.]

His own father died when Dad was in his early thirties, and he was sad about that for the rest of his life, I believe. When he had his major stroke seven years ago, I believe-- and I am not the only one who believes this-- that he had a choice about whether to stay or to go, and that he chose to come back so that we would have a chance to say goodbye. So he stayed, and suffered, for seven more years, so that we could do that.

Dad was just exactly like Jesus Christ, except in this one thing: Jesus didn't have any of the bad parts, and through Jesus, all of our bad and broken parts can be healed, and mended. And I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

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The bishop mentioned that Dad would talk to anyone. 

The stake president mentioned that when he was a high councilor, he had visited the ward maybe three times, and all three, he ended up talking to Dad. He said that the first time they talked about plants, and that the second time, they talked about how to keep plants alive.

He said that Dad would talk to anyone, old or young, didn't care, and no matter their race. He said that in addition to the qualities I had mentioned, Dad had another Christlike quality, of humility. 

He also said that he had ancestors from Southeast Idaho, and that when the Lord puts someone in a place like that, it is for a reason. He said that the Lord often has a work for them to do, and that this work can take generations to accomplish. 

That made me ponder, and I have most certainly not finished pondering.

 

*For readers not familiar with fasting in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints: if an adult (or youth) is physically able, they are supposed to fast once a month. This means that Dad presumably had quite a few as a basis for comparison.