Oh, to be 60!
Oh, to be 60
I was so excited to turn 50. It felt like a right of passage. I had done a lot, but I also hoped to accomplish more in the years ahead. I felt a freedom in turning 50. I finally felt free to say no rather than to please others, if something didn’t feel right for me. I turned down leadership roles that would have taken time and energy away from my work and my family. It felt easier to say yes to things I might have declined prior to 50, such as visiting a friend for a long weekend, or going to a concert I may have otherwise skipped.
I felt gleeful for a decade enjoying bucket list items such learning to run at 55, and then two years later running the New York City Marathon. I traveled more to places I’d always wanted to go but never gave myself permission to spend the money. I felt mature enough to deal with the deaths of friends and family members, even as I did so imperfectly. In fact, being imperfect felt totally normal and I was able to embrace my humanity, and hopefully others’ humanity, as well.
But turning 60 this year has been another story altogether. As I approached turning 60, I dreaded it. It seemed to mark me getting older with less time to accomplish goals. I was sad that I hadn’t done some things, or that I did other things poorly. I regret being short with my husband and child. I am sorry I could be rude when it felt like it took too much to be kind to a stranger. Usually this was done after I felt they were rude. But sometimes I just wasn’t forgiving in the moment.
And I also was thinking of the limited time with family and friends. I’m not the greatest at showing up for celebrations or gatherings, but I do like seeing friends one on one from time to time. I used to feel bad that I wasn’t a good friend or sibling, or mother, or wife, or daughter, or aunt, or cousin. And, perhaps I’m not to those that would prefer me to show up when asked. But I can say with certainty that I am not that person. And, if there is a silver lining for turning 60, then it is that I now feel comfortable setting the rules for my life. If you ask me, that silver lining is gleaming.
I no longer have to feel bad for what I don’t do, or sorry for what I end up doing. I can be me. I’m not a one-size-fits-all kind of woman, and I am proud of that. I have a lot more space for being disliked. And, that’s a beautiful thing. I’m happy to discuss our different points of view. However, I will not compromise myself so that you don’t feel badly. I respect you enough to trust your ability to process your disappointment.
I’m 60 and I’m over that. So, where 50 gave me room to say “no,” 60 gives me room to go in my own direction. I may get lost, but I trust that I will find my way back. I am pleased to create my own rules at 60. I no longer feel compelled to follow the made-up rules of others. I can have the private practice that suits me, as long as I’m compliant with the ethical standards. I can have the social life and the artistic life that supports who I am. I choose to see art and go to the theater while living in a small apartment to support those joyful moments. I don’t need to listen to the rules set forth by those in the know. They may know for themselves, but they don’t know what’s best for me.
Whatever is to come, I now have a freedom to forge my own path. Perhaps 60 is a wonderful new age in which I can cull my past experience and continue to make the tweaks that allow me to enjoy life to its fullest. I guess I had to live 60 years to get here.
