Jokes on You

There are things I was absolutely sure about once.

Certain I understood how aging would feel. Certain I knew how work would unfold. Certain marriage would follow a predictable rhythm if you just showed up and tried hard enough. Certain that health was mostly about effort and discipline.

Jokes on me.

Aging didn’t arrive with wisdom neatly packaged. It came with surprises. With moments where my body spoke before my mind caught up. With new limits I didn’t ask for and perspectives I didn’t earn politely.

Work turned out not to be about loyalty or longevity as much as it is about systems, timing, and knowing when something no longer fits. The idea that effort always equals outcome was one of the first illusions to crack.

Marriage surprised me too. Not in a fairytale way or a tragic one. Just in the quiet realization that long love is built less on romance and more on adaptability. On weathering things you never planned for. On staying when the story changes.

Health might be the biggest punchline of all.

I believed good choices guaranteed good outcomes. That responsibility alone could keep you safe. That doing things right would be enough.

Life has a way of humbling that belief.

The joke isn’t cruel. It’s clarifying.

Midlife has taught me that certainty was never the goal. Perspective was. The ability to laugh, not because things are easy, but because pretending we have it all figured out no longer feels necessary.

So yes. Jokes on me.

And honestly, I’m okay with that.