You Are Never Too Old (Hillary)
I was 36 when my life fell apart.
Over the course of one year, I had gone from a happily married, straight, religious woman to a depressed, struggling, queer divorcee. It was not what I had imagined for myself.
I felt like I’d lost a game of Jenga – one that I didn’t even know I was playing. I had built up my life, block by block, piece by piece, on the foundation of Mormonism. I had grown up in that religion, always holding firmly to the beliefs and tenets of the modern prophets even when they seemed problematic. But as I started to pull out some of those religious pieces and examine them more closely, replacing those pieces at the top of my teetering structure, my tower became increasingly unstable.
Eventually, the foundation couldn’t hold me up anymore. I lost my faith in God. I was angry at Him for teaching me to hate the LGBTQ+ community, for teaching me to hate myself, for keeping me from true happiness. I left the church, causing a rift between myself and my parents, leading me to leave my fifteen-year marriage, and leaving me floundering for something to hold onto.
Once the dust settled on my new life, regret began to overwhelm me. I felt like I had wasted the first half of my life on a “me” that wasn’t real or true or happy. And that was time I could never get back.
I looked around my apartment, filled with the few belongings I had managed to pack up before I moved out of my marital home, and felt a depression sink into my soul. I was nearing 40, and I was back in an apartment. It was a phase of life I thought I’d left behind. And given my career choice as a teacher, it was unlikely I’d ever be able to afford a home again or give my children the privileges and advantages of life that I’d always planned on.
The one good thing in my life was my new partner, Kara. But having her around in some ways exacerbated my feelings of depression. I felt jealous of her. Twelve years younger than me, she had figured herself and her sexuality out as a teenager and had been living a confident gay life ever since.
In fact, her confidence had been one of the things that drew me to her. I had first seen that confidence in a Facebook post. Draped in a rainbow flag, she had posted:
“I’m gay. Why do I share that? Because today is National Coming Out Day and I want people to know that if you have come out as LGBTQ, or are wanting to but scared, that you are loved. That I get it. And I love you. To my friends that are allies that have supported me through this journey since I came out in 10th grade, thank you. I’m 24 years old now and happier than I could ever be. To the people who have yet to support me, that’s fine. I’m going to live life the way I have been because I am happy and comfortable with who I am.”
At such a young age, she found herself. She found inner peace. She found self-love. And twelve years older than her, I had found none of that and wasted my one precious life here on Earth.
The thought of trying to start my life over, of trying to help my children heal from the drastic changes I’d thrown their way, of trying to find stability; it was overwhelming. I remember standing on the beach on my 37th birthday wondering if I would ever see 38, wondering if I was strong enough, wondering if I should even try. My therapist repeatedly told me that it would get better. I just needed time. But how could I just wait around? I’d already lost so much time. I was already so old. I had already made so many choices I couldn’t undo.
That’s a hard truth to swallow: You can’t undo the past. You can’t go back and do things differently. You don’t get a do-over.
But the other part of the truth that I was missing is this: You can start over any time you want. You are never too old. It is never too late.
I just turned 40 a few weeks ago. And while my life isn’t perfect, it is wonderful. I’ve come to accept all the choices that have led me here, the good (like having my two amazing children) and the bad (like hiding my gay identity for so long). I’ve come to love the brilliant, queer woman I am, with all her flaws and faults and problems. I’ve come to find the joy in the journey that brought me here, and I’ve come to realize that I still have so much joy left to find.
Most importantly, I’ve realized that starting over is a natural part of life. Snakes shed their old skins. Lizards regenerate their tails. Birds molt and re-grow their feathers. Flowers die and re-bloom.
And it’s never too late for me to bloom, too.
If you are feeling down and need support, please don’t hesitate to reach out to us here at Letters Against Depression if you haven’t already. We send letters of hope and support to those who need someone there for them. You can request to receive letters here.
Hillary Jarvis is an English teacher by day and kickboxing instructor by night. She currently lives in PA with her fiancée, two children, and sheltie.