Professor Michelle Spear, an anatomist and researcher, cited the biological changes clashing with the continued physical and mental demands of that age as a major reason for 40s fatigue. As she so eloquently explains it, “Several small biological changes converge at exactly the same time that life’s demands often peak.”

Listen, my biological changes are fully metamorphosized to Norma Bates’ status and life’s demands make me question how Carol Brady was always sitting on the couch. While my experience of my 50s, 60s, 70s and maybe 80s is surprisingly limited, I watched my granny rock her housecoat and Vogue magazine as a octogenarian and it looked pretty awesome. Something to look forward to.

When not contending with three teenagers: 13, 14 and 17, who are certain all life’s answers have already been bestowed upon them like they’re prodigious Confucius incarnates living with the village idiot, I’m coping with a new neighbor who is accused of numerous serious sex offense charges. Want a radical life change? This will do it. We now live behind blackout curtains. More on this at a later date.

Back to Dr. Spear — she says mitochondria still produces energy in your 40s, and I’m not ashamed to write I had to Google it to learn this is the powerhouse of cells, sounding pretty important for our survival. The problem is, the mitochondria are also tired, so their work output means they need to be put on a Performance Improvement Plan. Red Bull isn’t strong enough to ingrain itself into our mitochondria. Hormone changes and sleep deprivation converging with the ever-present responsibilities of parenthood are also to blame, according to Spear. It takes 20 years to get better.

She calls them “Hopeful 60s,” where things both biological and logistical finally settle.

The biggest issue with Spear’s work explaining why this decade is so difficult is it was written before the United States decided to enter a war with Iran. For those who think this two-week war isn’t important enough to keep you up at night, you’re not paying attention to history. You’re not paying attention to the realities our children fear. Life’s regular difficulties are enough to lead to a stable Xanax prescription. Add in a poorly planned, opaque war with a country not know for measured responses and soon we’re mixing alcohol with the Xanax.

As a millennial, my high school years well into my 20s, including the birth of my second child, were colored by another Middle Eastern war. I remember driving through Layton passing the sign in Mike Norton’s front yard that kept count of how many military members were killed. That was my daily reminder of the peril our country faces. Now it comes directly to our children’s phones where they can’t escape the daily dread.

It was just this week my 14-year-old asked the chances he could be drafted into the military, a lunch time conversation amongst his chums. Some lies slip off a parent’s tongue like wearing silk panties under silk pajamas inside silk sheets. This lie didn’t. I gave him the grim reality that I don’t know why this war started, where it’s headed and what the Trump administration and its supporters are willing to do. My son didn’t get much comfort from his mother.

This generation started under the banner of war in the Middle East, they survived a global pandemic that killed million, shutting down their schools, and now they’re entering adulthood as a new Middle Eastern war begins because of a very fractured world both home and abroad. The long-term effects of this continued stress will not go unmissed.

Bessel van der Kolk’s book “The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma“ illustrates how the perpetual state of stress and worry translates in the brain. According to van der Kolk’s writing, Cortisol is the body’s main stress hormone, released in moments of fight or flight. Short term, it keeps people in danger focused, alert and quick. Long term, continuous exposure to Cortisol can negatively affect memory, concentration, emotional regulation and overstimulation. Our children’s brains may be marinating in Cortisol triggering survival mode. 

I’m tired. Yes, the general process of aging is slowing me down, although there’s still a fire to live the time I have to the fullest. The real fatigue comes from the recognition the future I want for my children may not be possible. Between pandemics, politics and the steady drumbeat of global conflict, they’re growing up in a time of uncertainty I can only imagine mirrors the 60s. 

While I toss and turn over the new cycle and my mitochondria stage a walkout, my teens who know everything will still ask what’s for dinner as they eat an ice cream sandwich, and like the 1960s, the world will keep going. The question is whether or not I’ll be wearing a straight jacket or house coat in the end.

Meg Sanders worked in broadcast journalism for over a decade but has since turned her life around to stay closer to home in Ogden. Her three children keep her indentured as a taxi driver, stylist and sanitation worker. In her free time, she likes to read, write, lift weights and go to concerts with her husband of 18 years.