I’m on the precipice of 40 and have 8 years of cancer recovery in the rear-view mirror. I understand with great clarity that time is precious and have very intentionally carved out a life that feels right for me. I adore spending time with the people I love, eating nourishing food, and saying yes to life and all that it has to offer. I’ve sat in the dark shadow of cancer, wondered at my own mortality, and walked a long and winding road, reigniting my spark along the way.
Now before we get too much further into the nitty gritty, I would like to clarify that no, 40 is not old (that’s the honour you receive when you turn 84). Don’t ask me why 84, it’s just always been the number I felt that came with the title of reaching a ripe old wonderful age. I also plan on being quite the 84-year-old. You know the ones; they’re pounding the pavement and outpace you as you stroll along the water’s edge. It’s the woman on the bicycle wearing a fabulous outfit with her dog riding shotgun. But at 40, I think many of us have started to work out some of the big things.
We’ve started to give less of a shit about what others think. We don’t worry about that little muffin top (for anyone under the age of 35 go and check the interwebs for that definition), and we’re just having fun, getting down with our bad selves 😉
I think we can also get pretty darn comfortable. From what I can tell, it looks like staying flexible and embracing experiences that continue to support your growth beyond the comfort zone are just some of the essential ingredients for happiness as we age.
You would think that with my medical shenanigans, being out of my comfort zone and doing hard things would be second nature to me. Oh, how quickly we forget. I often envy my friends who are comfortable jumping out of planes, freeclimbing, and riding rollercoasters with glee. That just isn’t me. I certainly have other types of bravery in spades, but much to my chagrin, my goddaughters enjoy requesting to ride the big ferris wheel when they stay. I’m not sure if they enjoy the ride more, or delight in my efforts to look TOTALLY FINE, by staring at the horizon and actively not thinking about where I am.
I don’t like to fall over, the potential for injury I typically avoid at all costs. As I start my next chapter, I’d like to practice balancing my nature, with ensuring I don’t miss out on life experiences that enrich this beautiful moment in time we’ve been gifted.
I do wonder though whether the fact that I’ve already survived cancer has made me more risk averse. But I don’t want fear to win, and to have the ability that when my mind says no, I find the courage to say yes and take the leap.
I was recently presented with the perfect opportunity to flex the grey matter and work the physical. On a recent trip to Europe, I found myself in the Winter wonderland of the French Alps. Snow drenched pine trees, hot chocolates and ski lift rides as snow fell softly on my face. It doesn’t get much better for a girl from the Sunshine State who revels in an Airbnb with a fireside – IYKYK. I had decided to book some ski lessons, after a recent trip to New Zealand provided me with the swift realisation that you can be athletic, but if you think you can snowboard after a 2-hour lesson, you’re about to be greatly humbled. Can I also just say that walking on icy roads in ski boots, carrying skis and not having a clue how to make your way to the beginner slope on the free loop bus – I felt like I had conquered Mt Everest by the time I made it to the incorrect location and still managed to locate my ski instructor. Okay, maybe not Mt Everest. but can we agree on Kilimanjaro?
Rory was a real salt of the earth Brit who I think would easily blend into the surfing community of any NSW beach town. He was laid back but wouldn’t take no for an answer when I hesitated in my own ability. As he skied backwards down a winding slope, his presence made me feel calm. All I had to do was follow the path his skis laid out before me. When I apologised for my swearing, he reassured me that his client with Tourette’s was far more entertaining that anything I could muster.
I could feel all the anxious energy vibrating within my body. Bundling it up, I acknowledged it, named it, and wrapped it up with a blanket of calm thoughts. I reminded myself just how capable I am, and of all the amazing things I have already accomplished. Channeling positivity and powerful energy, I pushed it from the pit of my stomach out into my body, strengthening my arms, legs and stilling my beating heart. I pushed the fear aside and just did the thing. Winding my way down the slope, shaky legs and all, trying to make sure I didn’t pizza the whole way. Successfully reaching the bottom, I was ecstatic, not just in the fact that I didn’t face plant too many times, but really that I had faced a fear and overcome a significant mental obstacle. I felt immense pride.
Making my way across to the button lift and again succeeding at not creating a traffic jam (I’m basically a pro now 😉), I started to ascend the slope. The sun came out from behind the clouds.
I pushed my goggles up onto my head, marveling at the beauty of the landscape. I didn’t want to miss a moment, soaking it all in and committing as much detail to memory as humanly possible. I could feel the sun on my face as the smallest softest snowflakes started to fall, landing on my cheeks and eyelashes. It’s days like these that I will continue to carry me forward to my next challenge and will bolster my confidence so that I can push off once again into the unknown. A feeling of immense gratitude built inside of me and my heart burst with joy, as I couldn’t quite believe that this was my life. At that moment I heard Rory’s voice float up the mountain, ‘Carley, this is what we call a blue-bird day’ he said as the tear rolled down my grinning cheek.
