What Are The 3 Most Surprising Things about Aging?

 

It happened this week. I was minding my own business when out of the blue, with no warning…I turned 66.  (Yes, I’m one of those women who tell their age. I say to heck with it.)

If you asked in my teens or twenties, what this time would be like, I would’ve conjured up those old women in “Zorba the Greek”—bent, dressed in black, and shaking their fist at the sky.

Instead, something odd happened. This time of life isn’t what I expected. I keep waiting to feel used-up, done, and regretful, but somehow that keeps eluding me. Here are three things which surprised me the most…

I’m happy. I expected these years to be spent looking backward, poring through old photo albums, living out memories from the past, most of the fun over. I expected the sixties to be full of melancholy and woulda’s and coulda’s and shoulda’s.

What I didn’t expect was to still be excited over the future and strangely content with the present. In many ways, I’m cheerier than my angst-ridden twenties, tired, young-parent thirties, and “Who the hell am I?” forties. Life is good.

I’m healthy. Okay, healthy isn’t the same as perfect. I have a few medical issues and unexpected aches or twinges. I always assume they’re life threatening.

But I have to say, for the mileage, the old jalopy’s purring along pretty well. I never expected to be doing yoga everyday and sprinting up the occasional staircase. I never expected to still be wearing jeans and tank tops and (occasionally) high heels. I never expected to still like my body.

I’m still young. Okay, maybe not on the outside, but inside. I used to think I’d be sidelined in this era, watching those crazy kids have all the fun. Who knew I’d be one of them? My bucket list keeps getting longer, not shorter.

I was ambitious and serious when young, plunging single-mindedly toward a horizon, which never quite materialized. Now little things bring enjoyment— having lunch with friends, reading with my cat on my lap, watching the seasons change in my backyard.

Who knew? The things I used to rush through on the way to real life turned out to be real life.

And yes there are things that are awful about growing older. I always avoid surprise mirror attacks, like the other day in a store when I saw this older woman with jowls who turned out to be me.

Or how in movies 70-something-year-old actors are always paired with females young enough to be their great-great-granddaughters. Women are always bombarded with the message we only count as bodies and if you’re over 40, you’re way past your shelf life.

But to heck with it. Before my grandmother Nana died, she told me not to tell her new boyfriend her real age. “He doesn’t know I’m 87,” she whispered.  “He thinks I’m only 82.”

And maybe that’s what growing up is all about. It’s relative. The goal lines keep shifting. We’re as youthful or old as we believe we are.

And if we’re lucky, we’ll keep feeling young—at least on the inside.

 

What are your thoughts on aging?  Comments are always welcome and if you’d like to receive postings by email, just press here.  Thank you so much for reading and sharing!