Half-Time Has Come (and Gone)

There's something about turning 40. It's a midpoint—and, perhaps more importantly, a checkpoint. It forces you to ask uncomfortable questions about who you've been and who you want to be.

"Make it count," I remind myself.

You see, Sunday was my 40th birthday.

I marked the occasion more quietly than I once imagined. A walk in the woods with my boys. The scent of a steak searing over open flames. A couple of bottles of red wine I'd brought home from recent travels (no, not Sicily).

It wasn't the Vegas debauchery a friend had recently promised. But it worked.

It was simple. It was right.

…and it gave me space to do what I seem to do best lately: think.

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Reflecting on life in the days leading up to 40

I have a thing with birthdays. Don't we all?

Mine just runs contrary to my ego: I love to celebrate, but I prefer not to be celebrated.

Weird, I know, for someone who's driven by external recognition to admit.

It's not that I don't like celebrating success—I do. I just find something oddly uncomfortable about celebrating the mere fact of having arrived on this planet.

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Forty is different, though. It hit me differently.

The way I see it, I spent the first "half" proving myself—in career, family, and ego. I climbed ladders, chased titles, and reached arbitrary milestones I once thought would define me.

I was relentless in a thankless pursuit of becoming my "best self," only to realize somewhere along the way that I'd lost sight of why I was doing it.

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The next chapter, however long it lasts, will be different. It's about impact.

Knocking down walls, creating space for others to grow, and leaving something better than I found it.

I will step boldly into the future and abandon the shadows I've built for myself.

I will confront and dismantle the Imposter Syndrome that has quietly taken root over the years. As David Brooks recently wrote:

"The fact that you have the worry means you probably aren't a phony; the true phony is convinced they're not one."

But I've come to see the truth: self-doubt doesn't mean you're an imposter. It means you're human. And that is not a weakness; it’s proof of caring deeply.

And those who know me best know just how deeply I care.

So doubt isn't an enemy to defeat. It's a reminder to stay humble, stay present, and keep moving forward. …even when the voice inside says you're not enough.

Because the second half isn't about proving you're enough.

It's about knowing you already are.

-g