I’m always a little surprised when an event that I’m talking or thinking about is 20, 30, even 40 years in the past. I don’t need those memes all over social media that say “you’re old if …” Yes! I proudly note. I am older. I am also happier, healthier, more focused, more grounded and more me than I have ever been before.
Youth? I would not be young again for all the money in the world! Don’t get me wrong, I think young people are marvelous and I admire their vision, voice, and passion. I am especially fond of 3-year-olds for their sass and self-assurance. Hell, I’ve worked a lifetime to recover some of those best childlike qualities – sass, self-confidence, wonder, forthrightness, and the unbridled power of observation.
So how is it that, contrary to the expectations of western society, I am not desperately trying to be/look/act 30 or 40 again, not worrying about age-appropriate dressing, not looking wistfully back with a brain full of shoulda-woulda-coulda? Because I reject that script in spite of the avalanche of messaging telling me that wrinkles should make me feel flawed, or worse—ugly!
I reject the expectation that, now over 60, I don’t have anything relevant or timely to contribute to climate action or democratic governance. Years of experience left lying on the table is wasteful and illogical. Yet it happens millions of times over. Elders with wisdom and insights overlooked and sidelined due to the tyranny of youth. TBH—Boomers are much at fault for this so there is some comeuppance at play in this dynamic. (Bitter historical irony acknowledged.)
I’ve always lived a somewhat unconventional life, defying sexist social norms of what, where, and when a woman should do things. Nevertheless, I was caught off guard by how fast, strong, and early ageism came on. It’s as if society itself has a biological clock and that sucker goes off once and for all at 60—for women.
Actually, the clock has a series of snooze buttons. The first alarm goes off at 30. The Big 3-0. Oh my. Are you married? Climbing the ladder of corporate success? Exceeding all expectations? Hit the snooze button. Carry on.
The second alarm rings at 40. Do you have 2.2 kids (preferably one of each gender)? Are you the boss lady now, wielding financial or political power? (Not social. No, that’s for others to decide.) Are you youthful, vibrant, everything to everyone? All good. Hit the snooze button.
The third alarm goes off at 50. The dreaded 5-0. Over the hill. And you hear yourself wail “but I still feel like I’m in my 20s!” Except you’re not and you really don’t. You have memories that are 20, 30, maybe even 40 years old. You might be caring for three generations now—your children, your parents and yourself. You have so many people’s concerns and priorities jostling in your head that it’s a wonder you have any room left for your own professional and personal details. Your body is changing, too. It doesn’t act like it used to. Still, hit the snooze button, girlfriend.
The fourth alarm rings at 60. It happens in the blink of an eye. There are no more snooze buttons. That’s it, sister. You are objectively, empirically old. Now what? Many would have you step quietly aside, become invisible, irrelevant, and desperate enough to spend millions of dollars recovering “your lost youth.”
Or you might flip that script, take stock in all you’ve achieved, think about boundaries and how you’ve used them (or not) so far. What do YOU want to do? How will you curate your strengths and navigate your challenges? What will you do with all that freed up head space now that others have moved out or moved on?
To hell with society’s biological clock! And to hell with those cringe-worthy memes about being old. We are old! What could be more exciting, more – dare I say it? – pregnant with possibilities than cultivating a meaningful, joyful, and aligned life into our third chapter? I have a few ideas. Come join this growing dazzle of crones!
Copyright: Wondercrone.com
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