Holy Crap I'm 40

I spent my 30th birthday in a hosptial bed in the ICU in San Francisco. I had contracted a very rare and deadly blood disorder called TTP (Thrombotic Thrombocytopenia Purpura for those medical-type readers) as a result of e-coli poisoning. It was a bummer to say the least. I was in the hosptial for 39 days and by the time I got out, I had undergone blood transfusions, plasmapheresis, dialysis and chemotherapy.

That experience changed my life, to be sure. Within a year I quit my very lucrative job as a corporate attorney, and decided to become a filmmaker. I didn't know or care where I would be in 10 years. And now, 10 years later has arrived.

So when people asked how I felt about turning 40 last week, I tell them that, well, I'm alive, I'm healthy (fully recovered, thank you very much!) and I'm pursuing my dream, so really, how bad could it be?

Well......

I made a very deliberate choice to quit my job and change careers. I'm a freelancer now, which I love. What I don't love is not knowing what my paycheck will be week to week. I love being able to pick up and go to Texas, or Alaska, or Las Vegas, to shoot a movie. I don't love having to have a roommate, and sometimes having to shop for groceries at the 99 cent store. I love my friends. I don't so much love watching them get engaged, then married, then pregnant.

Until very recently, I looked at my 30s as a kind of adventure. Where would my next film take me? Who would I meet on my next project? I traveled, met lots of fascinating people, got a dog, did lots of hiking, spent time with my family, and went to film school (not in that order). All my friends were jealous because I followed my dreams.

But now, here I am, at 40. Still single, still living in a rented apartment with roommates, still struggling, still wanting a family. I look back at my 30s and can't help but wonder if it was all a bit too self-indulgent. Sure, I had a multitude of experiences both good and bad, but I don't have anything to show for them. Most people work hard and at the end of 10 years they have something....maybe a home, or a spouse, or a family, or a nest egg. I don't have diddly squat.

Needless to say, the panic has struck, my clock is ticking louder than ever, and I am realizing that all that time I thought I had is dwindling down to nothing. Financially, I am not ready for the fertility treatments or for a baby. I'm still struggling with the known vs anonymous donor issue. If I were 35, I'd continue to think. But I'm not 35. I'm 40. I don't want to lose another minute, another month, another cycle. I'm so freaking scared that it's too late for me.

I don't know how 40 crept up on me, but it did, and I have some work to do now to make my 40s count for something more than just my own selfish happiness.