Several years ago a friend told me that some women start to regret their lives when they turn forty.  They have a hard time accepting that this is it. So I wasn’t surprised when it hit me. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, I have a nice home, and I a grateful for a job to pay the bills. But this isn’t what I thought I was going to have.

I always thought I would live in a castle. I used to draw out floor plans on graph paper. I was going to build the ball room from Beauty and the Beast. I believed in my heart that I would live a life of luxury.  Travel. Land. Horses. Jewels.  Yes, those are childish dreams and not realistic, but I keep buying my lottery tickets.

I remember in high school planning on having four kids. I have one awesome son. After a couple of miscarriages, I thought I had come to peace with having only one child, but it still hits me at times that my son will grow up alone and that we wont have huge family gatherings at the holidays with all the grandchildren running around.

My father never went to church with us and I used to envy the families at church that had the dads there too. I swore I wouldn’t marry someone who would leave me alone to live parts of my live by myself, boy I messed that one up.

I was supposed to be a CEO of a major business. But how do you do that with a business degree from a state college and no direction on how to get a job other than retail or secretarial?

I swore I would never be overweight like the other women in my family.  That didn’t work out according to plan either.

I want to be happy with what I have. I want to be content. I am thankful for what I have, but why do I always want more?

I think this must be why a lot of women want a divorce when they are this age. They think they can have the life they want when they aren’t trapped in a life that’s different than what they planned. I know that the grass is always greener on the other side. I’m not going to mess up my life to chase dreams, but I understand why others do it.

I work with a lot of when who older than me. They all have amazing life stories. I’ve heard stories and seen pictures of what they looked like and went through at this age and I am optimistic because many of them look much better in their fifties – after the children have grown, after hysterectomies, after they have accepted their life.

I am not giving up. I don’t mean that I plan on getting rich (although I bought my lotto ticket tonight), but I mean that I’m not giving up on contentment and peace.

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