Someone recently mumbled something to me about being scared to hit 40. “Are you kidding me?” I answered. “40’s the best age yet.” I can say this because I’m, well, how do I put this gently–past 40. And I’m not ashamed to admit it. So maybe some of you under-40’s right now are raising your brows questionably, or secretly thinking I’m lying to the world as well as to myself. Or saying, “THAT chic just wishes she had her bikini-bod back like I do.” But nope, I’m sticking to my story. (Plus, in my mind at least, I don’t look that bad in a bikini). I like being 40-something, love it actually, and amazingly, so do all the other 40-something year-old women (and men) I’ve questioned.

Here’s why. It’s my assessment that precisely on the day you hit 40, all the knowledge you’ve been gathering for the past 39 years suddenly comes to the forefront of your brain and starts making itself useful. I firmly believe that on your 40th birthday, you sit down in the middle of your third piece of birthday cake (yes, third. It is your day) and you realize that finally, FINALLY, you’re free. Everything just clicks. You no longer have to compete with all the other women in the world. You no longer have to pull out all the stops to at least somewhat resemble a Victoria’s Secret model. This is the day you let out that never-ending sigh of relief and allow yourself to be simply…(drumroll, please)…you.

And it’s awesome. Because what a You you are.

You can dress how you want, say what you want, do what you want, and no one can stop you. You’re 40 for pete’s sake! With age, comes wisdom, right? Of course it does. And, “age” doesn’t have to be 90, it just has to have seen enough of the world to know the rules and know when to break them. See? 40. Old enough to have gathered the wisdom, young enough to enjoy it.

The theme of the Forties decade is Freedom. It’s like when you grew up and left home for the first time, burst into the world to make your way, failed miserably in your first job interview, but then sailed through your next interview because you’d already made all the mistakes in the first one. You’ve learned. You’ve been there. You’ve dealt with that personality type before or dated that kind of man before or had to deal with crap like that before. And now, you’re with it, you’re savvy, you’re wise. And you’re better. You’re better than all that, and basically, you’re just better. Not to mention, thanks to all the antioxidants out there, you’re lookin’ good to boot!

So, the next time I hear someone complain about being 40, maybe I’ll correct them, or maybe I’ll roll my eyes and groan, or maybe (probably) I’ll go skipping off with my new attitude and not care what anyone thinks, and ponder all the knowledge I gained with every moment of my 40-plus years. And then, when I’m done skipping and pondering, I may even go don my bikini.

Right around Thanksgiving, while I was five states away from home, I learned a valuable lesson. I think it occurred somewhere in between the argument with my mom, the disbelief at seeing my 94-year-old grandmother with her new “Alzheimer’s” personality, and the fact that, though I was having a good time in general, underneath I was still kind of pissed that I had to spend Thanksgiving (again) without a husband because he’d recently left me. And who is now “dating,” I might add. Anyway, the point is, I was feeling sorry for myself and did not feel like there was much at all to be thankful about. Au contraire.

So…I’m standing in line at a bustling Panera Bread in New Jersey with my mom, my three children, and my 23-year-old sister. My sister is young, attractive and full of life, has just begun a promising career as a nurse at a busy northeastern hospital, and everything I wish I could be again. As we’re waiting our turn to order lunch, I realize the guy ahead of us, who is about my sister’s age, has no right leg from the knee down. What’s left of it is wrapped in bright white gauze. I don’t know that he’s military, but it’s my best guess. And though this is extremely upsetting and sad to me, because I live in North Carolina and see military personnel somewhat regularly, it’s not the shock it might be to someone else.

I see my children also surveying the young man, trying to process what might have happened to his leg, wondering how someone so otherwise healthy and normal-looking could have had such an accident. I’m proud of them for keeping their sadness and curiosity to themselves. I realize that, unfortunately, they’ve also seen this type of thing before. The other folks in Panera though had obviously not. Stares toward the young man were rarely discreet. Heads turned, whispers lingered. In a sea of gossip, the young man remained comfortable and mature, and I felt a sudden surge of pride for this random guy I didn’t even know. I wondered if I could ever do that—rise above the emotion of the crowd, particularly when it’s directed at me. But this was a man obviously made of incredible bravery and courage, as I was about to find out.

“Tommy,” my sister cries. “Hey, Mom, it’s Tommy!” She and Tommy strike up a conversation and remove themselves from the Panera line to catch up on old times. Wow, I think to myself. He’s my sister’s age. One of her friends. A regular guy with dreams and aspirations and a whole life ahead of him, and now, an amputated leg. They talk for about fifteen minutes. Smiling and laughing, just being young and finding out what the other one’s been up to. My sister introduces us to him, and he in turn introduces his friends. Then we go to our separate tables, and I find out his story.

“I didn’t realize that was Tommy,” my sister says. “He went to church with us. Went off to Afghanistan, fought in the war. Do you know he just got a Purple Heart? President Bush came and visited with him, and talked with his family, and sat down beside him. Tommy was a medic. Got a bunch of shrapnel in his leg. He saw his men getting pummeled and he kept going out to save them, one after another, even though he was badly wounded himself.”

Wow. There are no other words. I was speechless. Suddenly my divorce and my anger and my sorry-ass ex-husband and my self-pity and my wishing I could keep up with the Joneses that much better… instantly dissolved, and I realized that here was a kid (yes, a kid when you think about it) who had thought only of others in a time that truly meant life or death, was fighting with all he had to give me freedom (to wallow in that self-pity I’d just mentioned), and was more grown up than I’ll (or any of us, really) will ever be. Here was a kid, more courageous, more selfless, more sacrificing, more “Man” than anyone else I know, and much more mature than myself, who was almost but not quite twice his age. Who had given his leg, and probably most of his soul, so that I could have freedom. Freedom. Something every single one of us probably takes for granted. Because I know I do.

And it hits me. Not only do I have an incredible, mind-boggling amount to be thankful for, I owe much of it to him—and to all the men and women who fight for us. And I am very, very grateful.

So I vow never to be so self-absorbed again. That part, I’m still working on, because I think it’s an American habit that’s hard to get rid of. But I’m getting there, partly thanks to Tommy. And it occurs to me, I wonder if he’ll ever realize how many people he really saved, and continues to save, just by going around to Panera and all the other places in our world, and continuously rising above? Someone like him, he’ll probably never realize. But I do. And I’ll bet a lot of other people that day did too.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. One minute we were arguing as usual, and the next? Divorced. Fifteen years of marriage gone in fifteen seconds flat. Well, not really, but that’s what it seemed like. And after telling the kids, the parents, the beloved and shocked friends, after going through the motions day after day after day, after being too numb to even cry and realizing that yet again, after so many years of hanging on, I was walking around in a body that carried a broken heart, it occurred to me—I’d actually been going through the divorce for fifteen years. This was just the paperwork. And I recognized that finally it was time to be me. And that felt really, really good.

Now I am certainly not suggesting that those of you who are married run for the hills while flinging spouses to the wind. And I know that many people who are separated or divorced take a much different look at their marriages, and rightfully so. But this was the view from my perch, and, now that hindsight is 20/20, mine was a marriage that was not quite right from the get-go. So when I considered that I could actually start being me, and just me (and now that I think about it, this is the same “me” that had been squashed like a bug and was almost not to be found), I was thrilled, brave, anticipatory and suddenly exhausted all rolled up into one. How was I ever going to juggle it all—alone? Three kids under the age of ten, a new job, some semblance of a semi-neat house—there was going to be a lot to this single motherhood thing. Can you say “housekeeper?”

Surprisingly, though, it’s been so far, so good. Sure, some days are better than others, some days I’m bitchier than others, and some days I’m just trying to figure out why I don’t keep more vodka in the house. But…my kids are still the same wonderful kids they were before the divorce, I’m still friends with my heartbreaking ex-spouse, I still hang out with the people who always mattered most, and life’s moments are now sweeter, longer, more savored. And because there was no one left to hide behind, I was physically forced to go out into the world and actually do what I’d always dreamed of. Nothing like getting the rug yanked out from under you to make you dance. But that, too, felt good. I grew up. And it was time.

Suddenly, I started to notice things. The moments I had taken for granted before—just the simplest little things like a budding flower or my son’s laugh or my daughters adapting British accents for the day—I now completely wallowed in, mostly because I wonder what other surprising changes might be just around the corner. And I realize now, that as I go through life’s constant ups and downs and bumps and jostles, I might as well stop to appreciate the highs and at least look up during the lows, and married or single, vodka or not, hang on and thoroughly enjoy the ride. And truth be told, I really, really like where this ride is headed, and I can’t wait to see what’s around the next bend.

Dear Mr. Dad: Six months ago, my wife and I divorced because she was having an affair. After our divorce, she remarried and my 3-year old son has become attached to her new husband, who showers him with expensive presents. I know my son loves me, but it isn’t easy for me not to feel hurt by their relationship. I don’t want to harm my son’s relationship with his stepfather, so how can I deal with these feelings?

A: Sometimes mothers think they’re the only ones who feel threatened by their ex’s new relationships, but it happens to dads, too. It’s never easy to watch another man come into the picture and “steal” your family. In your situation, such feelings might be worse because of how your marriage ended and how quickly the stepfather entered the picture. Rest assured, though, there’s nothing unusual about your reactions.

First, it’s commendable that you want your son to have a strong, healthy relationship with his stepfather. And you’re absolutely right about that being important. Your son’s transition during this difficult time will be much easier when he has security and support not only in your home but also in his mother’s.

Second, you may be right about the gift issue, too. At your son’s age, gifts probably are the quickest way to his heart. After all, even as adults don’t we tend to like people more when they’re giving us presents? However, your young son has no idea (hopefully) how this man (I’m assuming he was the “other man”) played a part in the break-up of his parent’s marriage.

It’s not easy to deal with the painful feelings you experience when your son talks about or runs to greet his stepfather. But you must continue resisting the urge to mention your negative feelings to your son. Even if you mistakenly told him why you don’t like his stepdad, a child of three could never understand. But if he senses there are some things he shouldn’t tell you, you might be setting yourself up for future problems. No matter how painful, you have to keep open the lines of communication between you—even when you are discussing his stepfather.

Also, you can’t allow your hurt feelings to interfere with your responsibility as a parent. You may have an urge to fight back against the stepfather by buying your son presents you can’t afford and by getting lax on discipline. Spoiling your son and permitting him to ignore rules may make you his favorite parent in the short run, but in the big picture you won’t be doing him any favors. And, if that’s the type of treatment he’s getting at his mother’s home, he needs you even more to be a strong but loving Dad.

Realize too that your feelings aren’t only based on the fear of losing your son to his stepfather. You also must have many complicated feelings about the divorce—especially one that ended due to adultery. You feel hurt, betrayed, and vulnerable – all things guys aren’t ‘supposed’ to feel. With time, the pain will subside. It won’t happen overnight, but it will happen and eventually, your resentment towards the stepfather will also soften. You may never like him, but you will be able to tolerate his role in your son’s life.

Also, you need to keep moving on with your life. You don’t have to start dating right away, but go out and start living again. Go out with friends, meet new people, and get involved in activities. Something as simple as having your friends over to watch a movie or to play poker can improve your outlook on everything.

Above all else, though, keep being an active part of your son’s life. By making sure he knows you’re always there for him, in his heart you won’t be replaced by another man.

Q. What can I do to help my children get through our divorce?

Many families face the challenge of divorce or separation. Whatever the causes of the separation, and whatever the circumstances, it’s hard on everyone involved. Parents want the best for their children. They want stable, loving relationships in their lives. And they want their children to thrive. Yet big changes must be made.

There are many things parents can do, singly and in concert with one another, to help children with the pain of separation and divorce. This article will outline some steps that are simple, but not easy to do in the swirl of emotion that accompanies separation in a family. Both parents may not be able to agree to take these steps, but for at least one parent to head in these directions will help greatly.

Three sources of hurt

There are three basic sources of hurt for children when their parents separate. One is the loss of the family configuration that has anchored them. The children may retain the relationships, but their homes change, who is at home changes, their parents’ work schedules and their own school situations may change, and their parents’ economic circumstances change. These core changes can feel threatening to children, even if they eventually lead to positive outcomes.

Second, children are often aware of their parents’ raw, unhappy feelings about each other and the depth and intensity of those feelings also rocks a child’s world.

And third, children are built to abide in a loving, cooperative community. The end of a living arrangement they trusted and depended on forces a loss of innocence, a breach in their ability to feel that the world is a safe and welcoming place for them.

Shielding children from unnecessary hurt

There are a few commitments that separating parents can make that will shield their children from some of this hurt. These are commonsense commitments, but in a heated situation, they take work to remember. A parent needs to consciously add support and resource to his or her life to keep steering him or herself in a direction that benefits the children.

• When children are present, I will speak and act respectfully toward my child’s other parent, his or her family, and friends. In a stressful situation, a parent’s need to talk and to express anger, outrage, grief, fear, and other deep feelings is strong. Unguarded and extended expression of emotions can be very helpful in clearing a parent’s mind enough to be able to focus on the needs of their children. But parents must seek adult listeners—trusted friends, counselors, rabbis or pastors—in whom they can confide. Children are not at all equipped to listen to parents’ negative feelings about each other. No matter what the other parent has or has not done, children are far better off when parents act respectfully toward one another in their presence. Respect doesn’t imply that one isn’t allowed to set limits with another adult who is behaving poorly. It does mean that, as limits are announced, the limit-setter refrains from personal or physical attack.

• When children are present, I will not display my upsets about their other parent. We humans have a million ways to convey what we’re feeling. When we’re upset, we roll our eyes, heave loud sighs, grunt, stomp, slam, throw up our hands, clench our fists: the litany of expressions of upset is long. None of this is verbal, but all of it is hard on children. They are built to see the expression of love, confidence and relaxed cooperation. Separating parents don’t need to put up a false front, but they do need to model simple decency toward one another. Their displays of upset can be saved for adult company. With an adult who agrees to listen to the feelings, it can be a huge relief to show every bit of the upset. It’s a relief to use choice language, make angry gestures, groan, or pound on the wall. The feelings are there, throbbing for release. Show them to a grown person (not your child’s other parent) who can handle them.

• When children are present, I will not conduct extended arguments with my child’s other parent. Parents can’t help but have differences of opinion and arguments. And some arguments, conducted with ground rules that ban attacks on character and categorical statements, can actually help to rebuild a sense of caring. But in a family that is thoughtful of its children, the meaty part of a fight will be conducted out of earshot of the children.

• I will not recruit my child to agree with my grievances about their other parent. A separation is painful enough for children, without the additional pressure to side with one parent or another. Children love both their parents, and want the best for both their parents. It is heartbreaking to a child to have to choose between them.

• To the best of my ability, I will not assume a victim role. Each parent in a separation feels like a victim, and most feel pulled to cast blame for the breakup. These are our tendencies under stress, because our strongest feelings got their start in childhood, when we were helpless to defend ourselves, and were blamed, or learned to blame ourselves, for any lapses of judgment we had. Attaching ourselves to the role of the injured party tends to keep us from pulling up our socks and building good into our lives in every way that we can.

The feelings of being a victim are probably unavoidable, but we don’t have to believe those feelings. It’s far more constructive to cry hard or rage, with a good listener, until we can see a way to make things work well for us and for our children. When that path isn’t yet visible, it’s still possible to make a commitment to keep taking the initiative, to keep one’s attention on the positive moments and the lessons being learned. One young child I know, who is battling her fears of being in social situations, cries and rages as she says to herself, “This fear will not win! I won’t let it win!” That’s an attitude that will move her forward, even at the moments when she is stricken with panic. That’s an example of a path out of the victim role.

Working hard at keeping these commitments gives children maximum exposure to their parents’ good will and caring, and minimum exposure to adults in emotional upheaval, and therefore unable to put the children’s interests first.

Handling the hurt of separation

In order to begin to thrive in new circumstances, children need to offload their feelings about the changes in their beloved family. We offer another article, Healing the Hurt of Separation, that spells out ways that parents can help their children regain their confidence after big changes have unsettled them.

In order to begin to thrive in new circumstances, children need to offload their feelings about the changes in their beloved family. We offer another article, , that spells out ways that parents can help their children regain their confidence after big changes have unsettled them. Here are a few of the headlines.

• Children often unload their feelings about big, difficult events by erupting over small, insignificant triggers. A child can do an hour of healing work about missing Daddy or Mommy when the corner falls off their cookie, or they spill a drop of water on their pajamas. If you move in, put your arm around your child, and gently refuse to “fix” the upsetting little thing, your child can use it like a can opener. They scream about needing a whole cookie, or a change of pajama tops, and you hold them, look into their eyes and offer love and understanding. So many feelings, so passionately released! After a big cry or tantrum about such a small thing, a child feels much more secure in the world, and much less troubled, because you were there for them. You listened. You cared. He has grieved over something amiss, a small thing that’s a stand-in for the frightening events that he feels overwhelmed by. You’ll see your child relax, if you’ve been able to listen to him all the way through.

• At transition times, make time for children’s feelings to be heard. It’s healthy for children to have upsets around transition times. These are the times when the reminder that things aren’t the same is strongest. Far better to have a child who can powerfully cry that he doesn’t want to leave, or doesn’t want to stay with the parent he’s going to, than to have a child who swallows his feelings and winds up either subdued and separate or aggressive because he has too many feelings to manage. Often, children can fully feel their love for a parent directly after a huge cry about how they don’t want to be with him or her! This is one of the powerful paradoxes around emotional release. A child feels “I don’t want to go to Mommy’s” very strongly, cries hard about it, finishes, and has a good time at Mommy’s after all. It’s not pleasant to hear that your beloved child doesn’t want you, but if those are the feelings stuck inside, then your fastest way to a closer relationship is to assist your child to cry or rage until he’s done.

What do you say to a child who’s rejecting you? In a way, what you say is less important than how you are. Children read body language and tone of voice very clearly. Keep eye contact with your child, and imagine that you are taming a small, frightened animal by showing that you are trustworthy. Say, “I know,” with quiet acceptance, when your child says, “I hate you,” or “I don’t want to go with you!” You can say, “But I want to be with you.” You can say, “You’ll see [your other parent] again soon.” You can say, “I’ll listen to you until you are ready to come with me.” These will be balm for your child’s troubled spirit, though he or she won’t show that it’s helpful until this big outburst is over.

• Make your child’s arrangements. Listen to your child’s feelings about the custody arrangements, and take those feelings into consideration, but parents are the ones who need to make the decisions about when and how custody is shared. To leave children in charge of custody arrangements is too much like forcing them to choose sides. If your child is longing for her other parent while she’s with you, listen to her feelings, rather than cart her back to the other parent’s place. This will strengthen your child’s relationship with you, and will help him/her overcome the stored feelings about separation that have been triggered by the current situation.

• Always reassure a child that their other parent loves them, or would love them well if he/she could. Some children lose all contact with a parent, and some children have parents whose minds are deeply affected by addiction or other difficulties that bend their lives away from effective parenthood. But the underlying truth is that, if their child’s parent were healthier, better supported, had access to more love and opportunity, was blessed with beginnings that were gentle and kind, that parent would be delighted with them. It’s hard to explain human frailty to children, because it breaks our hearts to see them hurt by it. But we need to let them know that it’s not their fault that their Mommy or Daddy isn’t able to be in their life. Something has been missing from their parents’ life. There’s nothing missing in them.

Here’s how it can work

Here’s a quick story that gives an example of a parent who gathered enough presence of mind to treat her child well in a moment of emotional turmoil. It’s a small picture of a healing moment, both touching and funny. The healing action of emotional release is at work for both mother and child.

“My husband left me suddenly, when my daughter was eight months old. He had been having uncontrollable rages aimed at her, and he left angry, but I think underneath, it was to protect her, and me. He gave us no financial support whatsoever. This made life very difficult for me for several years.

“One day, he called and we had had a fight over the phone. My daughter was going on three years old. I got angry, slammed the receiver down hard, and began to cry. She came in from the other room and said, “Mommy, who were you talking to?”

I said, “I was talking to your Daddy.”

She said, “Oh, I miss him too!” and burst into tears.

I picked her up, held her, and we both cried for a good long time about her Daddy. She for her reasons, me for mine.”
—a mother in Palo Alto

More information is available in the Listening to Children booklets. Topics include How Children’s Emotions Work, Special Time, Playlistening, Crying, Tantrums and Indignation, Healing Children’s Fears, and Reaching For Your Angry Child. Click here to receive the free monthly newsletter from Hand in Hand, Connecting!