Passing the 50th Birthday - Thoughts from the Other Side

Here comes a long post, but this topic, I've discovered (now that I'm past my 50th birthday) is a complicated one.

My mother was 52 when my father died. I was 21. I thought, at the time, "Gee, she's sort of on the young side (SORT OF) to be a widow, but then again it's a sort of (SORT OF) reasonable-ish age to be a widow too." (!!!) Now, I'm in that area myself; feel as the same as I did when I was 25 (and sometimes even 14, sometimes even 6); and I now think how horribly young she was to be a widow.

I was fortunate enough to have no signs of any changes in my complexion all through my forties (and I've noticed some other people that haven't either). Right after my 50th birthday, though, it was as if the fine lines under my eyes came in overnight. My hair is still it's natural brown, but I now have some gray streaks that I've been trying to pass off as bad blond highlights. I almost think it has been more of an adjustment for me to see those visible signs of aging show up, because for so long I actually kind of believed (kind of) that they never would.

I'm kind of in an identity crisis because I'm not quite sure how old I really look right now. I see the fine lines, but since I do now need reading glasses, I don't see them without glasses on. (People say God makes us lose our 20/20 vision so our partners will look better to us in old age. Maybe the real reason is so we won't freak out when we look in the mirror.)

If I put the reading glasses on the fine lines are magnified - which is particularly horrifying. Sometimes I do a quick over-the-glasses/under-the-glasses thing to see if I can figure out how bad the fine lines really are; but then I realize it doesn't matter. Someone who is 20 and has 20/20 vision will see them as bad. Someone else who is older won't see them without glasses, but will see them worse if they're wearing glasses. I've figured out, I look different to everyone - but the real problem is the fact that, in reality and regardless of how bad the fine lines really are, they're there; and I'm not too thrilled about that. :)

To my surprise, though, I've discovered that necks, arms, hands, etc. don't look any older than they ever have. I guess tissue paper neck and "old" arms and hands must be more for the 80-year-old set (or the 60-year-old set, in which case my remaining "good years" in that department are numbered - but our days are always numbered; so there's never an easy figuring out of all these aging issues).

I'm fortunate enough to feel as energetic ever and (knock on the wood computer desk) remain healthy and arthritis free. I just ordered a whole workout program because the Massachusetts Winter didn't let me get out and walk the many, many, miles I had been walking until last December. A few extra pounds did creep on; and, I think, faster than they would have 20 years ago.

I'm kind of horrified at the number, "50". Then again, it doesn't feel bad to be this age. I'm pretty much horrified, horrified, horrified to see that the fines lines are just staying there (rather than magically disappearing as if they were just a bad dream).

What may bother me most about my age is having all the people who haven't gotten to be this age yet think I'm old. I don't really care if they think people over 50 are old. I just don't want to be treated as if I'm 110, when I am, after all, ONLY 50-ish.

My sister (in my age range) and others my age seem to notice the same thing, though; and that is that even if we feel great and are fortunate enough to be healthy, there's a new feeling that "it's all just a matter of time" - and good health seems more like good fortune now than something to take for granted.

Part of my loves my age because I know so much more now than I did when I was younger. Part of me has noticed, though, that all my relatives in the generation before me have gone now. There's something a little sadder about living without all those people who once pretty much made up one's world. Then again, I've discovered - to my surprise - that I remain incredibly happy with, and still enjoy, my kids, even though my youngest is old enough to be in college.

I still would like to change the world. I'd still like to do any number of things. It doesn't feel as if I don't "have the rest of my life ahead of me". Then again, sometimes I realize that so much of my life is behind me.

It took a lot of thinking before I showed my age online. It wasn't so much that wanted to make people think I'm younger. It was more that I don't want people thinking I'm older than I am (inside). Then again, it occurred to me that if I write AND show my age there may be times when "the world" will see that 50-plus isn't as old as lot of people think it is. (Of course, my "old, fuddy-duddy" side comes out often enough too; but sometimes I'd rather be that than be the way some of today's teenagers are.)

If we really think about, age can both be "no big deal" and be "a very big deal" - and since it is sometimes both at the same time, it isn't anything we can always get our minds around. I've figured out that not thinking about works best.

Sometimes I'm proud to be as old as I am and still look and feel as ok as I do. Sometimes, though, I am depressed to realize that the signs of face aging have set in I imagine how maybe I'll never leave the house again. (Isn't that horrible? :) ) I've discovered that the insecurities I had as an awkward teenager have come back (not all the time but sometimes, at least when it comes to the fact that I don't look the way I wish I did).

My mother was in her 70's when she said how she didn't realize how young 40's are until she was well passed her 40's. She said how she had wished she had realized, in her 40's, how young she really was. I've done the opposite. I've continued to feel like I am 20 years old. The trouble is when you feel 20 but see 50 in the mirror (or, I like to think, 45 in the mirror) you both worry that others may think you don't realize how old you are; but also feel the need to get reality into your own head as well.

As with most matters of age, there are the two different ways of thinking going on at the same time: 1. I'm glad I still feel 20. 2. "Hey, self, you're not 20. Stop thinking you ought to look it."

When sports reporters interview professional athletes after a game one of the most frequent replies they get to their questions is, "Is it what it is." I would love to know exactly how many times the words, "It is what it is," have been uttered by athletes (for some reason, football players in particular - maybe because football is such a rough game).

When I was in my forties I guess I worried about what was to come once inevitable signs of aging showed up on my face. The forties were, for me, a time of realizing there was "no going back to young, and only getting closer to older if we're lucky." The forties were knowing that the next decade was fifties, which, without a doubt, cannot be glossed over as being the least bit young.

It wasn't until my fiftieth birthday passed (and those lines showed up three days later, it seems) that I found myself faced with having to deal not with what was coming, but what has arrived. After a blend of both supreme "ok-ness" with my age and also needing to adjust to the whole idea of it, I came around (as those my age usually do) to realize that it is what it is.

After spending my forties getting my mind around the idea that I was now "middle-aged" and had, without a doubt, left being a young person behind; and after a decade of not seeing any signs of aging and believing that maybe, for some reason, I'd get to look 35 forever, I was faced with the fine lines and the reality that aging is a game even the best of us cannot win. Then again, as each horrifying birthday comes around (and they're all horrifying once you pass fifty), and you're still in the game, that is, by itself, winning.

The thing about 50, for me, has been that thing where you think and feel two things at the same time so much more once you get to that age. I love my age, and I hate my age. It is what it is.