I pulled up to my twin’s house in tears.
My friend Sarah had sent me a birthday video message I’d listened to as I drove. “I know that whatever comes, your life will be beautiful,” she said.
One of my favourite picture books is Miss Rumphius, a wonderful story about a little girl who sets out to fulfill her painter grandfather’s commission to make the world more beautiful. She has many adventures and finally fulfills her goal by spreading lupine seeds all over her coastal New England town. She never gets married but the town’s children crowd her living room to hear her tell stories of her past. I planted lupines in my last garden so I could get a jumpstart on Rumphite success.
I want to make the world more beautiful. Abraham Maslow says some people have a need for beauty, just like for food. Without it, they sicken. I’m one of those. I need beautiful things on my walls. I need beautiful clothes, even if I buy most of them secondhand. I need to plant beautiful flowers, make beautiful crafts, and hike in beautiful settings. Would I die without these things? Probably not. But I’m drawn to making and absorbing beauty.
Yet so often, I feel that the beauty of my life is measured only by whether I snag a man. Beauty’s especially an emphasis for women, and the top measure of beauty is seen as whether you can reel in a good fish with that bait. “I knew she could not be so beautiful for nothing,” Mrs. Bennett tells Mr. Bennett of their engaged daughter Jane. After you land the match, beauty is posting glowing photos of your 2.5 kids all over your socials.
So if I’ve failed at that, at 38, is my life still beautiful?
Sometimes I go on an internet spiral, reading threads about dating, mentally jousting with trolls who dis women over thirty: “You had so many choices when you were in your 20s, and you were just too picky.”
“You don’t understand! I was awkward and shy in my 20s. I wasn’t turning anyone down!”
My friend Danny asks why I do this: “It seems like you always go on a feelings journey.” (I love the phrase “feelings journey” and have been using it since. Very tactful description of my melodrama.) Perhaps it gives me an illusory sense of control, the data gathering I often do as a substitute for action. Perhaps I feel some need to look the worst in the face, as if I’m being brave instead of wallowing.
I know that as I age, popular estimation of my value as a woman will decrease. “Rugged older woman” isn’t quite the same as “rugged older man”. That plus fertility makes me feel like I’m some kind of product stamped with a “best before” date. It’s easy to get sucked into this panic that tells me ACT NOW or I’ll be pushed into a far corner of the stockroom, visited only by the occasional curious spider.
On top of my own real fears of being left out of marriage and family is the social shame. Maybe no one judges me this way. But I think they do, because I once judged people this way. I looked at single women my age with pity and fear: pity that they’d been overlooked, fear that I might end up like them. I always had some reason I wouldn’t become what I now am.
Truth be told, I have lots of single friends my age. Many of them express this same feeling of shame: that they’ve somehow failed an important social expectation, failed as humans. Failed to be chosen, failed to be loved. Lack of dating success seems to brand you with a scarlet L for on your forehead. You can go to school and train for a different job, but no amount of money or expertise can find you somebody to love.
Dating apps keep that carrot dangling just out of reach: the promise that the next one will be the last one. (Which of course would ruin their business model.) I’ve been off those apps for over a year. If my choice is between ruining my soul on Bumble or dying alone, I choose the latter. (Ruining my soul didn’t solve the latter anyways.)
I cried after listening to Sarah’s message. I cried because I recognize some particular ways I’ve hoped my life would be beautiful that haven’t come to pass. I cried because I still hope they will, somehow. I cried most of all because Sarah recognizes the beauty that’s already in my life, not just if I “make it” in the world of romantic love.
My twin and I spent the day together out at Mystic Beach. We hiked through the forest, on rustic bridges over streams where swordferns spurt out of boulders. Sunlight slanted through the deep woods, backlighting the moss on the trees. Long stairs descend to the rocky beach, where a waterfall cascades over a sandstone cliff on the left and you can walk through a natural sandstone arch on the right. I peered in the tide pools and turned over a scallop shell. Jer and I talked about relationships, family, and what’s a “Reddit flag” (a brilliant term Jer coined by Freudian slip).
When I consider “what society thinks”, I can get discouraged. I don’t want anyone to see me as dried up and expired. But when I look at my life, I know it’s brimming with beauty and growth. I love my life. I feel so much better at 38 than I did at 28. I’m surrounded by people I love and who love me back. I live in a stunning place. I’m no DaVinci, but I can knit a mean pair of socks.
One morning, after a “feelings journey” the night before, I felt a quiet assurance that my value isn’t contingent on my age. Even if society thinks older women depreciate in value, God sees the worth of my heart. I can always keep growing in beauty and wisdom, no matter what others see. I’m of infinite worth to him. One of my favourite lines from the Bible is, “He has made everything beautiful in its time.” There’s a right timing for each thing to blossom into the goodness it was made for.
There’ll be days where I grieve what’s missing. And that’s ok. But most of my days are what my birthday was—full of laughter, connection, and delight. (Pastries, friendship, nature = happiness.) My life is off-script now. That’s kinda exciting, even if scary too. I don’t get to choose whether I age. But I can choose how I’ll let the beauty of my life be defined. I’ll dig deep wells to find beauty wherever I go. It will always be my mission to make the world more beautiful, and to revel in all the beauty it offers me.