The Myth of Being “Done” (and Why I Don't Buy It)

Because life doesn’t come with an expiration date, no matter what society tells you

Expiration Date – Rendered by the author in Midjourney

By now, we're all pretty familiar with the unspoken cultural norm that says once you reach a certain age, life quietly rolls down the shutters on you, whether you're ready or not. The fun is supposed to be over. You’re no longer “the target demographic,” no longer the shiny thing in the spotlight. If life were a high school cafeteria, you’ve basically been quietly reassigned to the side table with the wilted salad at that point.

Naturally, no one really says any of this out loud (except when they do). It’s more in the way advertising pivots away from you, in the roles women are offered in movies, in the slightly pitying tone people use when they say things like, “Well, at least you don’t have to worry about all that anymore.” The underlying meaning is that your days of being alive-alive are over, so please enjoy your new hobbies — couponing, knitting, and hoping for grandkids.

Well, I'm here to tell that that’s nonsense.

The Myth of Being "Done"

If you’re a woman, especially, you’ve probably already felt it, even if you're still young. It's like someone stamps this social expiration date across your forehead at some point in your 30s or 40s. By then, apparently, your best hair days are behind you, your skin is now public property for retinol marketing campaigns, and if you still want to feel attractive or adventurous? Well, that’s honestly seen as kind of sad.

But here’s the thing that I've personally noticed. The desire to feel beautiful or alive doesn't necessarily go away. Society just keeps telling you it should. Like, “Thanks for playing, we’ll take it from here. Go sit down.” And it’s maddening.

It's also problematic because we eventually start to absorb those messages and believe them. Even people who don’t consciously subscribe to the idea that fun, beauty, and vitality are youth-only clubs can still feel it creeping in. Even people like me, who've never really valued social norms or cared about meeting them. That gnawing little whisper inside: 

"Maybe it really is over. Maybe I’ve already had my shot at life."

But then something happens.

Some Things Arrive Before We're Ready

So, there’s this tarot deck in my office that I didn’t actually touch for almost two years.

It’s beautiful — mythic, even. Every card depicts a folktale, legend, myth, or fairytale from a different part of the world. It’s called Tarot of the Divine, and it arrived mysteriously at my door one day like something from a dream. No note, no explanation. Just a sudden appearance a couple of weeks after a brief but meaningful interaction with a wonderful soul from one of my art groups.

I've always liked the deck, and if you truly know me, it's not hard to see why. I've been passionate about mythology, folk tales, and fairy stories ever since I was a little girl, so I never doubted that this deck belonged with me. And yet, every time I went to pull cards after getting back into the habit a few months ago, I'd always reach for another deck instead. I couldn't have told you why. 

Sure, I had other decks I was more familiar with, ones that felt easier to read or more aligned with my daily rhythms. But over time, it became clear that something else was going on. 

Some part of me –– and perhaps also the deck itself –– was waiting for the right time to make the connection. That right time turned out to be today.

I Pulled Three Cards This Morning

The Star. The Wheel of Fortune. The King of Wands. A welcome combination, as you know, if you also read tarot. It felt like opening a sealed envelope I didn’t know I’d been carrying and finding a blessing inside.

The Star was hope. The Wheel, timing. The King of Wands, a mirror of the self I’ve been slowly becoming –– visionary, lit from within, and unapologetically present. It felt like the deck knew something I didn’t and had been holding it for me until I was ready to hear it.

The Things That Wait With Us

For a long time, I felt like I was ignoring this poor, beautiful deck. (Major guilt feelings, considering it was most likely a gift from someone who apparently saw something in me that I didn't see in myself yet.) But today, I realized it wasn't like that at all.

I think I was actually honoring it, without even realizing it. 

Some objects come into your life as witnesses, not tools. They watch. They wait. They carry weight before they ever speak up and ask to be used. In other words, some things arrive before we’re ready, so they'll be available the minute we are.

They patiently grow roots in the corners of our lives and make themselves quietly at home while we're busy focusing on deadlines and chores. And when the day comes that we finally turn to them — when the right energy moves, or the fog lifts, or the inner gate swings open — they’re already there.

Waiting. Not impatient. Not resentful. Just wonderfully ready when we are.

The Sacred In-Between

I’ve had a lot of “almosts” over the years, more than I honestly want to admit to. Almost started that project. Almost told that truth. Almost believed in myself fully, instead of partially. And I think I assumed that those spaces in between were failures — lost time, wasted energy.

But lately, I’ve started seeing those in-between phases as sacred waiting rooms instead.

That mysterious deck full of magic and fairytales sat untouched for an embarrassingly long time, not because I didn’t want it or love it, but because I wasn’t yet the person meant to use it. And now that I am, it’s not just a tool. It’s a reminder that spiritual timing has nothing to do with urgency and everything to do with readiness.

What We're Ready to Hold

I used to think my insistence on waiting until I felt ready for things was really just avoidance. (Toxic childhood conditioning at its finest!) But I've realized that it's actually something else. My way of demonstrating faith, maybe? The kind of faith that says, "I trust that the time will come. And when it does, I’ll be ready."

So today, I used the deck and received a wonderful reading that set a beautiful tone for my day. I'd even go so far as to say it felt like a door swung open on a story that had been unfolding quietly for years. A fairytale of my own, maybe, like the kind I always imagined myself one day living out when I was still little.

Some truths only speak when you stop demanding they arrive on schedule. Some magic doesn’t sparkle at all until you sit still long enough to feel it burning in your hands. And if you’ve got something sitting on your own shelf, waiting? Maybe today’s the day to touch it.

* Another apple in the basket for the Feast of the Wandering Pen, a month-long exercise in showing up and making way for the ideas that show up with me.