Getting Older Is OK
This week, I met with a man for a story I’m writing for The Bar Harbor Story, our hyper local digital newspaper. I always thought, in my twenties, that we didn’t have a lot in common, me and this man, other than we love animals, kids, community, and live vaguely close.
Wait.
That’s a lot of things in common.
And now that I am well away from my twenties, one of the things we have in common is my husband, who he knows well.
“How is Shaun?” he asked as we were leaving.
“Getting older.”
He laughed. “Better not tell him that.”
“More like a fine wine. A fine wine!” I clarified. “Not flat beer.”
I’m not sure if the poor man knew what to do with me, but he chuckled.
I meant it as a compliment, though I’m not sure Shaun would take it that way, more concerned that he is burning pre-cancerous bits off his arms via some sort of hideous, miracle acid cream while I’m staring at my hair saying things like, “Does my gray look blonde?”
There’s this beautiful thing that kind of happens with age sometimes. You’ve been through so much—your best friends have died, your parents, grandparents, most aunts and uncles have died, some of your aspirations may have died, too, maybe your marriages—and you can’t quite let your anxiety take over everything because what is a gray hair compared to that?
Someone writes something mean about you in a blog? It’s not quite as big a deal and life altering as your mom dying. The line at the grocery store is long? The street is congested? Are those two extra minutes of waiting or navigating really going to impact your whole life and its quality? Not at all compared to losing your best friend to a heart attack on a inn’s kitchen floor.
So, when I said that Shaun was “getting older,” I meant that he’s reorienting, shifting, figuring out that some things are big and some aren’t worth his time, that he’s mellowing, but also becoming more passionate about things he cares about. So, when I said that Shaun was “getting older,” I meant it in a good way—a way that doesn’t care about crinkling skin and sagging bottoms, but a way that sees deeply and loves broadly.
Or maybe I’m just talking about me, trying to convince myself.
Also this week, I went to an event where they were trying to get younger people involved in a broader organization. Of the thirty or so people there, I think I was the fifth youngest. And that means that if I last, I have even longer to grow, to figure out things that matter, to see those four people younger than I am do amazing things and make an impact and difference. How cool is that?
Here’s the thing: There isn’t anything wrong with whatever age you are: young, old, middle, new middle, ancient. It’s all full of worth and grace and lessons and it can be full of kindness and joy, too. I mean, you have to find joy in it when you try to do a line dance and your knee pops out. That absurdity of life when you aren’t burdened by war or violence or disease or ill health? There’s so much beauty and luck and joy there.
There are wise people at every age and also dumb asses. Sorry! Sorry! Part of growing older with Shaun is he’s impacting my language, but you know it’s true.
When I left my meeting with that man that in my youth I didn’t think I was anything like, he smiled at me broadly and said, “Carrie, it’s good to have friends, isn’t it?”
And it is.
And it’s good to find them in places you’d never expected them: a meeting, a grocery line, a congested street, a library, but maybe the best place to find them is in the mirror, that moment when you realize that you can be kind to yourself, too.
There was some random reel I saw on social media somewhere, maybe it was even an ad, but it said, “Take the person you love the most, that’s so important to you, and think of what you’d feed them for a year to keep them strong and healthy. Now, take care of yourself that way.”
Weirdly profound for social media, right? But it’s true. Be chill with yourselves human, give yourselves the love and care and forgiveness you give others. You deserve it. And also remember the grocery store line is not that big a deal unless someone’s cutting you, then all bets are off.
xo
Carrie