|With my grandma when she was the age I am now.|
I remember when my grandma turned the age I'll turn this month.
That gives me pause.
I'm not ashamed of my age; how is it even possible to be ashamed of an age? It's simply something you are. And what I am, soon, is 53.
Still, though ...
Fifty-three. When you consider the fact that I certainly have more life behind me than ahead of me, the number is startling.
I remember, as a child, thinking 50-year-olds were elderly. I also recall my first husband's dismay on his 25th birthday as it occurred to him he was halfway to that milestone.
But my own 50th, strangely enough, was a happy day. I was in the process of taking off the weight that had dogged me for 20 years; my kids were in good places in their lives, one having graduated college and the other one about to do so. We were all healthy. Life was good.
We're all still healthy, thankfully, and life is still good. But for some reason, I'm feeling a sense of urgency I didn't feel three years ago; Fifty-five is right around the corner; 60 (60!) won't be far behind. I used to assume I had expanses of time to while away; now, of course, I know that's not true.
So I need to get a few things done while I'm still young and healthy enough to do them. But I also feel the need, more strongly than ever, to communicate a thought or two, especially to those who can't conceive of themselves facing down 53 candles on a birthday cake.
What does it feel like to be turning 53? a young co-worker asked me this week.
I didn't have an answer for her when she asked, but I thought about it, and here's what I want her to know about turning 53, and about gratitude and common sense and other things I've learned as the birthdays have run together.
- Turning 53 feels like turning 23 or 33. Inside, I'm still young; so much so that when I look in the mirror and see the face of an aunt I think of as being perpetually 50, I'm startled.
- In some ways, I'm nicer than I've ever been, and in other ways, I'm far less nice. Life now consists of more gray areas than I'd ever believed possible, so I truly try to walk in others' shoes before I judge. At the same time, I'm more likely to cut someone off at the knees if that person is behaving in a discriminatory, unkind or otherwise unfair manner.
- Older bodies can do amazing things. I took up running at 50 and ran 22 races in two years; I'd still be out there if my hip and foot had cooperated. Still, though, I walk at least a 5K every day. I lift weights. For the first time in my life, I can do real push-ups. Most days, I feel capable and strong.
- Older bodies can also be attractive. Desirable, even (sorry to gross you out, kids). Sure, gravity does its thing, but confidence can offset any perceived physical flaw.
- People my age can be adept at technology -- more so, sometimes, than millennials. Two workplaces ago, my boss was told to hire a millennial to help us with social media. We did, and she came to me for help in understanding Twitter.
- We know we can't mistreat our bodies and expect them to last as long as we need them to. We're more likely than younger people to practice vegetarian or vegan lifestyles. We eat donuts sometimes, but not every day. We take our vitamins and our low-dose aspirin and drink our water, and we cross our fingers.
- As we get older, we want to make a difference. This can manifest itself in the need to realign our personal or professional lives to make sure what we're doing feels right to us.
- We talk more because we have more, borne of life experience, to share. But we also listen more because we understand the value in a disparate point of view. My politics lean left; one of the co-workers I'm closest to is a conservative retired Marine. Ideologically, we're pretty far apart, but he has a huge heart and a desire to always do the right thing. We look past our differences and enjoy our friendship.
- I'm less apologetic about the things I don't do well. Work in Excel, for example. I try, but navigating that program is not my strength. I also hate football with a searing passion and don't feel the least bit compelled to pretend otherwise.
- I'm also less apologetic about who I am. I'm impatient and easily bored; I'm sensitive and prone to worry. I overshare and wear my heart on my sleeve, and when I love someone, I love big. I spent much of my life trying to censor myself, and I don't feel the need to do that anymore.
- We understand that plastic surgery won't make us look younger; it will just make us look as though we've had work done. Some friends have chosen to do it anyway, and we all support each other. Same with hair color; people know I'm gray. Whether I choose to show them is up to me.
- For me, my friendships with women are more important than ever. I adore, value, and yearn for time with my friends, and I come away from that time rejuvenated.
- Those of us who are parents never stop being our kids' moms and dads. At the same time, though, we enjoy reclaiming ourselves once our kids are raised. I'm still as committed to my kids as ever, but I also delight in seeing them make their own paths and excel in their own careers. I also feel responsible for demonstrating to them that people can continue to grow and thrive as they age.
I'm in a line of work now that reminds me daily of all the good things about aging. What's not good is the prejudice our society extends to older adults. As long as people feel the need to lie about their ages, there's work to be done.
Let's own our ages, shall we, and the good things that come with them? As the cliche goes, growing older is a whole lot better than the alternative. And it rings true: My mom was only 42 when she died. For me, every year beyond that has been gravy.
So happy next birthday, whenever that may be, to any of my over-50 brothers and sisters who are battling what they may feel is a collective attack on their relevance. We're as relevant as we think we are, and I don't know about you, but I'm planning to stick around for a while and to be as impactful as I can while doing it.
Pass the cake, please. But first, put all 53 candles on top of it. Maybe even one to grow on.