When does one become old anyway?
Am I old now? (Probably)
Hello, Friend.
Thank you for being here. I’m so glad you are part of this community.
It’s nice to put January behind us, don’t you think? It’s such a long, tedious month to get through. And that’s in a normal January, which this one has been anything but.
February 1st was my birthday, and no, I’m not fishing for happy birthday greetings. What I am doing is letting you in on a little secret — my age!
Like anyone cares, right?
Trust me, this a big deal for me, though. Maybe sharing your age is hard for you, too. I can’t wait to find out if that’s the case (or not), so be sure to let me know in the comments.
Let’s get to the meat of this article — growing older — okay growing old.
Why is that so often considered a bad thing anyway?
But enough with the stalling. Let’s discuss getting old. And yes, you’re going to have to read to the end to find out how old I am!
(And yeah, that’s me up there in the photo — sparse brows and lashes and more than a few wrinkles, too.)
When does one become old anyway?
Am I old now? (Probably)
I’ve been writing openly about my experience regarding anything and everything cancer related for almost 15 years now. On the internet, no less. Yep. My story is out there. And yes, sometimes I wonder why I’ve been so candid about such deeply personal stuff. I’m an introvert, after all.
What was/am I thinking?
I wrote a memoir, too, titled Cancer Was Not a Gift & It Didn’t Make Me a Better Person. I opted not to sugarcoat my cancer and grief experiences. Admittedly, my candor isn’t for everyone. Anyone who’s read my memoir could’ve done the math and figured out how old I am. (As well as a lot of other things.)
Which leads me to the question, why is it so hard for me to share my age?
I’ve never revealed it publicly before. I’ve told myself all these years that I preferred to keep some things a mystery. Is that just BS?
Is it hard for you to share your age, too, or is it just me?
In Cancer Land, you hear it said all the time that getting old is a privilege. Not everyone gets to grow old. Every birthday is another notch on the belt. Cancer Havers share their birthdays and ages all the time. I never have.
Let me just say, I am thrilled to still be here and able to celebrate yet another birthday, too. I am very grateful to be growing older old.
I am in complete agreement that life is a privilege. I totally understand that many Cancer Havers do not get this privilege. At the same time, whenever I hear statements like the afore-mentioned ones, I feel judged. There seems to be an implication that no complaining is allowed. I better just suck it up and embrace everything about the aging process. I mean, it’s true the alternative to not aging isn’t great.
I don’t think that’s fair, though. I can be grateful — very grateful — and still speak my truths about aging. So can you. Sure, I intend to age as gracefully as I can, but again, this doesn’t mean I must do so quietly.
Gratitude can co-exist with honesty and reality. No one has to just grin and bear it going through whatever challenge it might be they’re dealing with. That helps no one. On the other hand, being real about this part of life, too, potentially helps others who are, or will one day, find themselves on the same path — suddenly old.
Do you sometimes wonder why society is so youth oriented anyway?
Think about it. Marketing is catered to certain age groups. Ads on TV and elsewhere are geared toward specific audiences — which really means specific age groups. People are studying this stuff and spending oodles of money figuring out how to get the most bang for advertising dollars spent. Certain age brackets are considered prime target zones for selling stuff. Others not so much.
And how many ads have you seen recently that mention anti-aging or offer advice on how to look and feel younger?
One of my daughters-in-law is from the Philippines. In her homeland culture, the elderly are revered and respected much more than they are in the US. I find this fascinating, and I’m not gonna lie, pretty darn nice. It’s wonderful to feel respected in part because of my age, not in spite of it.
Native Americans have always been known to have deep respect for their elders, too. The wisdom of their elders was/is valued and asked for. There’s something special, endearing, and wise about that.
And yet, why should it be special? Shouldn’t it be a given?
How did this get so skewed in our present-day American society?
One reason I’ve always hesitated to share my age in my writings is because I’ve doubted my own worth. Somewhere along the line, it was engrained in my mind, that the words of writers more youthful than me were somehow worth more than mine.
Crazy, right? Nonsensical even.
One of the best things about moving to Substack has been discovering a whole bunch of wonderful writers who are, shall we say, of a mature age. It’s been uplifting, encouraging, and incredibly inspiring to find so many of my peers writing extraordinary content.
I hesitate to name a few of them here because I understand how hurtful it feels to be left off a list. That’s happened to me many times. Nonetheless, I will mention the following because they’ve all welcomed me by subscribing, commenting on a piece of mine, restacking one, responding with encouragement to something I’ve written, or they’ve inspired me. This list is by no means complete, so please forgive me if I didn’t mention your Substack. All on this list are age 70 or above, or close to age 70 (If I goofed on this, oops, and again, apologies):
, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , .These fellow Substackers (and many others of various ages) are people who have encouraged me to more fully embrace who I am — and this includes sharing my age.
So, on with it, you’re probably thinking. Or rather, out with it.
Here goes…
This is the year I turned 70! Woohoo! There, I said it. It felt good. Liberating even.
I guess I’m officially old now. Or am I?
Maybe. But maybe not! Either way, who cares?
As one of my favorite Substackers, , wrote in a recent post titled: Sometimes you can’t move on. But you can move forward, through, or out:
You’re never too old or too young.
I love that simple affirmation. No age is more (or less) important than another. You’re never too old or too young. (Unless you’re talking about a legal requirement, which in this case, I am not.) The value you bring to the world has nothing to do with how old you are. You’re never too old or too young.
P.S. This year’s birthday also meant it was the year to renew my driver’s license. When my new license arrived in the mail, I looked at my new photo and thought, oh yeah, you’ve aged, Nancy. But immediately I also thought, well, of course, you have. My old license was 10 years old! (I did still pass my vision test without glasses. So there’s that.)
And by the way, that number you plug in for your weight on your license, do you declare your real weight, or do you cheat a little? (Not that I would ever do that!)
Just wondering…
Thank you, dear readers and fellow writers, for reading. I appreciate you — no matter how old you are!
If you enjoyed this article, thank you for commenting, restacking, and/or sharing it wherever you see fit.
Now, I want to know your thoughts on growing old/older. This should be a fascinating discussion!
Do you share your age publicly?
If you don’t, why is that?
How old are you? (No, you don’t have to share.) How do you feel about your age and/or aging in general?
Please share your favorite 70ish or older Substacker — including yours — if you fit the bill. I’d love to meet them and/or you!
Read more of my take on aging in EMERGING: Stories from the Other Side of a Cancer Diagnosis, Loss, and a Pandemic.
Click here to read/download the first few pages to see what you think.
Thank you so much for being here. Your presence in this community is important and deeply valued.
As always, I hear you. I see you, and I care about what you have to say.
Until next time…
Take care of yourself, be kind to someone, and be a light.
With much gratitude,
Nancy
Hi Nancy, thanks for including me in your list. I'm honored to be among them! But let me tell you about my reasons for mentioning my age when I really don't have to. I'm 87 years old. That's OLD! It's not that I'm proud of it. My only contribution, as I often say, is not dying. That's what keeps me here.
But I think it's important to remind younger folks that we older folks aren't necessarily feeble-minded or brain-dead, just because we're old. I write a lot about a lot of different things, and some of my readers aren't aware of my age. I want them to be aware. I want them to get comfortable with the idea that old people are still active, still with it, still able to contribute to a society that would like to pretend we're nothing more than a drain on their magnanimity and their coffers.
That's crazy talk, and I'm here as living proof.
I admire anyone who is old (a lovely word) and is still out there bouncing around, making an impact. I wish all of them would keep on announcing their age--wearing it as a badge to show how ridiculous it is to try and put us out to pasture when we still have so much to offer.
So keep on keeping on, Nancy. You've got this! So have I! So have we all!!
I am 73 years young and I keep a saying on my fridge that I can look at all the time. It says that growing old is a privilege denied to many. To me aging is a state of mind. I feel physically older because of the aromatase inhibitor that I'm on. But this too shall pass eventually as things continue to go well.