My husband and I just celebrated our 31st anniversary yesterday, and I made the obligatory instagram post about how we’ve weathered the many years together. I compared our marriage to our recent backpacking trip - and the constantly changing “weather” (not ashamed of that pun…). I gathered a few photos from the trip, made what I thought was a pretty cute post and showed it proudly to my 24-year-old daughter. She oohed and awwed, and then said “you guys look so cute and old together!” (cue sound of car brakes screeching).
I was a bit taken back and not just a little bit insulted by that off-hand comment, and made that “hurummph” sound, indicating my feelings. It just wasn’t what I expected to hear at that time. Yes, I understand that I’m celebrating the fact that I’ve been with someone who I met in my early 20’s and have been with for over 30 years. And also yes, the photos I added were from a rugged backpacking trip, sans makeup and bathing, after hiking many miles in multiple rainstorms and hailstorms. I know we weren’t looking our best but how dare someone acknowledge that we are also looking old?!
When my daughter saw how what she said affected me, the next words out of her mouth were “Why? Is that a problem??”
And I had to acknowledge that yes it did feel like a problem. And then had to figure out why it was a problem? After all, I am lucky enough to have lived a wonderful, healthy life so far. I have raised three wonderful children who love and respect me, and I am happy to be living my semi-empty nester life! I’m fortunate to be continuing to go on adventures and happily spending time with my husband. Yes, I have aged. But considering the other option, I know I am fortunate to be aging.
So maybe it was the nonchalant way in which it was declared that I am old (or looking old) that bothers me. Am I living in some fantasy world where I believe I still look the way I did when I was thirty or even forty? I sometimes catch sight of my reflection in a window when I’m not smiling, or once when my phone mistakenly takes a cruel selfie of me from the unflattering viewpoint pointing upwards towards my chin - or that side angle where you get a good look a how the chin and neck that are starting to merge… When this happens, my first thought has always been that I am starting to look like my mom. This isn’t a bad thought. I loved my mom who passed away in her mid 60’s so she has been imprinted at that age for me. The fact that I am starting to become her is not an insult. She was “grandma” to my kids and thus resembled a grandma. Do I resemble a grandma? This would be outlandish if I didn’t actually have friends younger than me who are already grandparents.
Still, the words “you look old,” lingered in my head the rest of the day. I fluctuated between thinking that it’s all very positive. I am incredibly lucky to be still here on this earth and to be growing old. This thought is quickly followed by “Oh no, I’m getting old. Time is running out. Can I do everything I want to do in the time I have left?” And the next thought is “Well maybe I am getting old, but dammit I don’t want to look like I’m growing old.”
I wish I could say that I have it all figured out. That I have accepted the understanding the beauty of growing old as a compliment. But it’s all very confusing, because in my mind, sometimes I’m the nervous and shy highschooler, heading to the girls room instead of the cafeteria to avoid looking for friends in the cafeteria.
Sometimes I’m the ego-driven, insecure, social media follower who compares myself to the powerhouse women posting on instagram about their perfect lives.
Sometimes the daredevil powerhouse, trying to push this almost-sixty-year-old body to its limits to show that I can still do things.
Sometimes I’m the metaphorical little old woman who just wants to knit some mittens next to a fire, grow a garden and raise chickens in the backyard.
Which one is the “real” me? I’m not sure. Maybe I will always be wrestling with my feelings about aging because of how society and others view aging is conflicted as well. Maybe it’s not just me, and maybe we need to recreate how aging is viewed and only then will we feel happy, lucky and grateful when someone tells us we are looking old.
