Killing It In My Sixties

It’s been awhile since I wrote my blog. Several years ago, I wrote one titled, “Is Life Over After Fifty”? I started that one when I was just sinking into my fifth decade and questioning – literally – everything. That blog series lasted over eight years. There were so many things I felt lost about. Who was I once all my sons were grown and gone? Would I ever fall in love again, and if I did; would I finally get it right? Would all the years of education and degrees earned, ever pay off in my career? If I lived somewhere else, could I reinvent myself?

I felt like I had processed every damn thought possible during those eight years; but now at 62, the questions keep coming. They don’t feel as big anymore though, and for that I am grateful. At the very least, the process of aging should provide some gifts, considering how much it takes away from us. I have come to understand, at least for me, aging is something you can either – just let it happen to you, or you can actively participate in the gradual but relentless passage of time.

I’m not a fan of artificial or cosmetic procedures that promise to salvage one’s youth or youthful appearance. But I am all for living a healthy life while accepting what aging is, and looks like. The other day, my grandson saw a picture of me and my Dad that was taken when I was in my late twenties, and he in his early fifties. His first question was, “Who IS that?” When I told him, he was surprised and told me we looked better back then. He’s right – we did!

I felt a familiar pang of sadness that my youth had left me, and with it – all the benefits that come with being and looking young. I remembered in that picture, I was going through a divorce, a struggling single mom with a low-paying job and two sons. My hair was a frizzy mess, I was experiencing shared custody of my kids for the first time since their birth, and scared to death of most everything. I hadn’t gone to college because I got married and had kids right out of high school – by choice.

But I was young, youthfully attractive and had a whole new life ahead of me! I would go on to date, re-marry, bear another beautiful son, earn three college degrees, climb the career ladder until I became a College Dean, travel the world and experience heartaches and joys that I never could have imagined on the day that photo was taken. I underestimated the advantages that being young afforded me, and at times, advanced and assisted me.

Ugh – I remember the days when I could eat whatever I wanted, and as much of it as I felt like – and never gained an ounce! Similarly, I could drink alcohol and feel like great again by 1:00 pm the next day. Now it takes until the next Wednesday, a Vitamin B IV drip and pure oxygen via nasal cannula to recover. It turns out – the way I was eating and drinking probably was going to usher me to an early death, so nature, (or God) put some road blocks in my way to save me. I had to be fairly miserable many times before I stopped being excessive. As my Dad used to say, “I’m a slow learn”.

Similarly, dying and straightening my hair for over thirty years, was not only a constant line item in my budget, but it was probably not the healthiest thing for me either. Our aging bodies are not meant to sustain the excesses and abuse we tend to inflict upon ourselves in our “invincible years”. It took a while – a long while – to embrace what I was born with – curly, frizzy, and now – gray hair. The amount of money and time saved has been impactful as I progress towards the fixed-income stage of life.

The main reason I am not in favor of plastic surgery intervention is, I had cosmetic surgery fifteen years ago – a breast reduction and lift, (which I will NEVER regret) augmented with some abdominal liposuction. I literally almost died in the recovery room from those procedures. My blood pressure dropped dangerously low while they pumped me full of fluids which caused my fresh incisions to burst open, and I nearly bled out. While I am happy being smaller-breasted – the liposuction resulted in a very lumpy outcome – to this day I regret messing with what God gave me. Never again will I have ANY procedure that is not medically necessary.

These days, I strive to be authentically myself – and to not only tolerate it – but love it, (me). I am hopeful that my grandchildren will remember me as a person who embraced aging, while still being Grandma Cupcake through and through. And maybe their own aging process will be a little easier knowing that whatever it looks like – they’ll still be their great lovable selves!