This is 40

When I was younger, forty felt like an age where everything was supposed to be figured out. A line where you had the career, the family, the house, the savings account, and a deep sense of wisdom about life. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t really work like that. Forty is not the finish line—it’s a milestone. A marker on the path, reminding us how far we’ve come and telling us to look at where we’re headed.

What I’ve Learned So Far

Perfection is overrated. I used to think my twenties and thirties were about building the “perfect life.” At forty, I know that life is more about building a real one—messy, beautiful, unpredictable, and authentic.
Time is precious. I don’t waste it as much on things that drain me. Energy is a currency (I don’t feel like I have a lot of it most times!), and I’m learning to spend it wisely.
Confidence grows quietly. Not the loud, flashy kind, but the calm assurance that comes from knowing who you are and what matters most.

What I’m Looking Forward To

Freedom. There’s something liberating about caring less about what others think and more about what feels right for you.
Gratitude. The gift of turning forty is perspective—you see just how much you’ve overcome, how many people you’ve loved, and how many chapters you still have left to write.

What My Dogs Have Taught Me About This Chapter

Love is unconditional. Dogs don’t care about your age, wrinkles, or how many times you’ve failed. They love you because you show up. At 40, I’m finally learning to give myself that same grace.
Second chances matter. Every dog I’ve saved has reminded me that it’s never too late for a fresh start. If they can heal, trust, and wag again, then I can too.
Joy is simple. Dogs don’t need fancy milestones to celebrate. A nap in the sun, a good walk, or a belly rub is enough. At this age, I find myself chasing more of that simple happiness.

Why 40 Feels Different

This milestone doesn’t scare me. It feels grounding. Like I’ve shed layers of worry, and I’m free to lean into what makes me happy — like advocating for rescues, writing, reading, and embracing the quiet beauty of small-town life. I don’t see 40 as a deadline. I see it as a doorway. One that opens to deeper gratitude, bolder choices, and a whole lot more dog hair on my couch.

So here’s to this new decade: to being old enough to know better, young enough to keep dreaming, and wise enough to fill my days with dogs, love, and a little bit of mischief.

Because if life is measured in tail wags and sloppy kisses, I’d say I’m doing just fine. 🐾