How I Reclaimed my FIRE at 50 (Guest Blog by Tamara Gardner)
I turned 50 this week, and it was nothing I expected and everything I needed it to be …all at once.
Fiftyis that year where you are taught to believe that there will be this hugeparty, surrounded by all the people you love at once at least one more timebefore you die. It’s on the script, right? A commercialized milestone and a rite ofpassage where we receive a badass cape with “F#ck it I’m 50” emblazoned on theback. An official invitation to finallylive life on your terms.
Butthat didn’t happen, and I’m so grateful for that because something even better did. But I’ll get to that. First, I amgoing to suck it up and be honest about where I was no matter how far out of mycomfort zone it drags me.
2018was arguably my worst year on the books, which even stumps me considering someof the things I’ve (proudly) overcome. Evenwhen I thought it was finally ending, in its last week my sister had a heartattack that although she survived like a warrior, it paralyzed me to the core fromthe feeling of almost losing her. There were times throughout the year I foughtto even want to be on the planet. Thatwill surprise some and even make them uncomfortable, BUT… I’m not goingto edit it because I don’t want to contribute to the silencing of the realstruggles people face with depression. And, because it has turned into the best gift ever, just in ugly darkwrapping. So much for being an ambiverted“private dancer”…
Ikept it hidden better than the staircase Nancy Drew spent a whole novel trying tofind. I was running my own business andwas the “bold” girl behind the mask of Be Boldacious, a Facebook/Instacommunity on a mission to inspire women to toss the BS script that life threwat all of us on who we “should be” and reclaim their right to be boldly andauthentically be themselves. Novalidation required. Every day I postedwords I wanted to feel myself, and even when that wasn’t the case, I was fueledby the amazing women that engaged, understood, and were seemingly on the samejourney I was.
Andthen 2018 was finally over, but nothing changed. 2019 came in like a bitchy, groundhog-daykind of brat. Health issues I thoughtwere eradicated popped up and, in the process, reminded me that life can bequite short. But once again, just like threeyears earlier, it forced me to slow down and crawl into my brain with amagnifying glass.
Whatdid I see? I was exhausted, tired of thestruggle and even who I had become. Iwas even a tad angry, and quite frankly, I wasn’t taking responsibility formuch of it. So I sat with the resentmentof the very things that I felt created the diorama that had become my life…childhoodtrauma, fleeing a crappy home situation at 14, people who broke my heart and mytrust, loss of too many too soon. Yearsof struggling with abandonment issues that led to people pleasing to keep peaceand stay loved, yet not being able to feel that love from the very peopleshowing it to me. I developed a habit of“turtling” and avoiding, which led to an epic guilt and shame spiral that I washurting the very people I couldn’t survive losing. It wasa fantastic pity party that was equally (if not more) damaging than those eventsthemselves. And yes, I should havecalled a WAAAAAMBULANCE.
Andthen, one early April morning: BOOM! Clarity. That shitshow started with ME. Myreactions, my thoughts, my habits. Mynarrative. And oh, what happened thenwas RICH (bonus if you get the reference).
Igave up the struggle, a little more every day. Suddenly I was looking through a different kind of lens at myself andeverything around me. I started havingmoments of brilliant clarity, personally and professionally. I had moments of joy I felt so deeply that I questionedtheir authenticity. At first. Andthen I realized that after all my fifty years, I had FINALLY crossed over fromsurviving to thriving.
So,on the day I turned fifty, I flipped the script. I didn’t wait for people to validate my importanceto them or to celebrate me, I celebrated THEM either directly or in my heart. I felt so much love and gratitude. I felt JOY. Giddy joy! I finally got it: If I didn’t love and accept myself and everything that made me who I am andwant to be, I would never be able to feel the love and joy that was right infront of me. So I put on my badass firered cape, my sash and sparkling “50” tiara (thank you friend) and I saidsomething out loud that will anchor the last 15 years of my career, the life I’mgrateful for, and the legacy I intend to leave when I’m gone:
“Iwant to see a world where girls enter adulthood with confidence and resilienceinstead of struggling through life to earn it”
Here’s what I want you to know and seek for yourself: I may have struggled, but I no longer look back with resentment. I see the beautiful moments that got shadowed because I shone light on the pain. I feel more focused, more fulfilled, and more love for and from every person and every day than I have in 50 years. It shouldn’t require a party. It shouldn’t be a badge you earn. And it shouldn’t come to you from other people, a milestone event, or even a social media post. It starts with YOU – and I wish every single one of you reading this the inspiration to make it happen.
When you do, submit your story to the brilliant person behind this blog. She is my friend, my example, and I am honored to have written the inaugural post for "Light my Fire"!
Tamara is a corporate refugee and giddy entrepreneur known to be a cross between Brene’ Brown, Olivia Pope, and “TinAmy FeyPoehler” but deep down actually relates more to most Melissa McCarthy characters. She is obsessed with NFL football, competitive lawn sports, and would likely become an agoraphobic mute if she ever lost her hearing (because music gives her life). Her biggest champion and grounding wire is her husband Jim, who she loves going home to in Braintree where they met “15 years or so” ago in high school. To learn more, visit www.tamaragardner.com