Something I never enjoy is when people say, “I’m too old for that. I can’t start that now.” Things like — “I can’t paint.” “I don’t know how to cook.” “I don’t hike.” Even high school students say these things. Maybe they never played tennis at five years old and now feel it’s too late to start. Maybe someone always played piano but never tried guitar, and now that feels out of reach. I’ve heard fifteen-year-olds say, “I never learned to ski.” As if that chapter is closed forever.
Lies we tell ourselves.
We can’t all have been trying and mastering everything since birth. Why do we do this to ourselves? Dismiss new interests. Say we aren’t runners. Tell strangers we can’t sing. Hockey isn’t our thing. We can’t draw, write, sculpt. Do we have to be elite at everything or devote all of our energy into everything all at once? Nah, I don’t think so. We can try things and not make them “our entire personality.”
We weren’t always a lacrosse family. We are definitely one now. But my husband and I didn’t grow up around it and dream it would someday completely consume our lives. Things change. When I remind my son that lacrosse didn’t even exist as a high school sport when we were in high school, he looks at me with pity. Life without lacrosse or an air fryer is like having no life at all in his eyes.
I have been many things work-wise. Had many business card titles. Some for a short window and others for years. I’ve been a social worker. A ballet teacher. A transcriptionist. A production manager. None of them really became my primary identity. The truth is no one cares what we do for a living, unless at a party/wedding reception/funeral/large gathering, and then inevitably someone will ask for lack of better conversation starters.
Recently, I introduced myself to a stranger, and they asked me where I worked. I said, I’m a writer? A lilt at the end of my answer. My friend laughed and said, "Why did you say it like that?" And I had to admit I have no idea. A touch of imposter syndrome, probably. My friend said writers are people who write. You are one. Well, ok then.
Admittedly, my window has probably passed for being an Olympic shot putter. But I never truly had the interest. But there is so much out there to try and enjoy without throwing eight pounds through the air.
In February, I learned how to play Mahjong. Mahjong is having a real moment right now, particularly in my age group. Ethnically, I am part Chinese, so I really think I should have some built-in acumen. I do not. My social media feed is now dominated by Mahjong tables, cards, pretty tiles, and patterned mats. I found a vintage table and chairs that had hand-carved drink holders. It was $6000, and I liked it. But it may be a bit of a stretch to justify, since I’ve only played a handful of times.
I posted about playing on Instagram, and a dozen people messaged me — Oh, let’s play! Which caused me to immediately backpedal. I just learned. I’m not quite sure I can say I’m a player yet. But no pathway to becoming a player other than to keep playing.
A few friends who have never played mentioned it could make for a fun evening, and they will bring the wine. They want me to teach them. No. This is not a wine opportunity. Caffeine and multivitamins, maybe. I need ALL my faculties to play Mahjong because it’s luck and strategy, and a hefty dose of knowing what is going on. I’m getting there. In eight to ten years, I could probably teach these enthusiastic friends.
These women in my life are such wonderful cheerleaders. My mom. My daughter. My friends. My neighbors. My co-workers. Go. Go. Go. Surround yourself with these positive people. They will pick you up when you are down. They will champion you on long before you are a champion.
My name is Jen. I am a Mahjong player. I can’t say I’ll be going pro. But I have not ruled out going pro. It remains to be seen.
Jen Fortner is a freelance writer who enjoys asking friends and strangers far too many questions. She spends her spare time sitting in inclement weather watching youth sports, traveling, cooking, and searching for the very best baked goods. She lives in Shorewood with her husband, three children and the most spoiled dog.