Aging Gracefully

This week, I’ll be turning 51. At one point in my life, age was something for me that was difficult to talk about. Now, it’s more of a number that doesn’t have a ton of value in the way I think about it.

Twenty years ago, this was not the case. I remember the number, age 30, causing me an incredible amount of anxiety and, believe it or not, a terrible amount of grief. I cried almost the entire year before my 30th birthday. Turns out I was following in my mother’s footsteps. She did the very same thing. At any rate, I still can’t totally explain why that particular number scared me so much, but it did.

When I turned 31, I think I was more in shock than anything and I had this moment, right around my birthday, where I was like “Okay, I’m 31, and what the heck do I have to show for it, or my life?” In my mind then, what I had was a marriage that was mediocre at best, debt up to my eyeballs, living in a city I didn’t especially like, far away from my own family, and a feeling that I hadn’t really done anything with my life.

The reality, from a different perspective, 31 also looked like this: I was married, experiencing a different culture, raising two children I would take to Karate, soccer, choir and the community pool in the summertime. I had another family I loved and spent time with, and I was employed at the University of Pennsylvania - the largest employer in the state at the time - who had given me a chance not only to work for them, but attend school to get my degree.

As a youngster, I was fortunate enough to have parents who ran their own businesses and did things with my brother and me, while also helping us do other things in life without them. My brother played soccer, T-ball, and Pop Warner football. I played softball and soccer. I belonged to 4H, where I learned to train and show dogs, and to cook. In school I played flute in the band and sang in the choir. In high school, I continued in marching band, belonged to FFA, and wrote poetry and short stories in creative writing classes. I also worked at a horse ranch, where I mucked stalls to pay for my own riding lessons and at a veterinary clinic as a janitor and junior tech in the evenings.

After high school, I went to junior college, then to cosmetology school, and made extra money waitressing, cleaning houses and housesitting. So looking back with that different perspective, I realized that by age 31, I had really lived, and done a lot more than I realized.

By age 39, I was divorced and had moved to Montana for a fresh start. I looked forward to turning 40, and turning 50 was no big deal. As a matter of fact, turning 50 was a blast, spending it with my grown children who took me on a trip to Barcelona to celebrate the milestone.

Now I have a better relationship with birthdays as they roll around. Something I like to call aging gracefully, and something I wish I knew how to do long before now. But, since we can’t go back and change the past, I’m moving forward, knowing that every year brings new things. Sometimes it’s new adventure, sometimes it’s not such happy times, but I’ve found if I just step into all of experiences with grace, I have a much better chance of enjoying them, and not dreading the entire process.

So as I turn 51, I’m reminded of how far I’ve come; of how the path I’ve chosen has led me here. I have a business doing something I’m pretty passionate about. But 51 also has some signs of new beginnings. A couple of new endeavors on the horizon, teaching more fiber art classes, the excitement of submitting proposals to more trade magazines, and a new series of children’s books coming to life.

Turning 51 is reminding me of how much more there is still to do and learn, to become. A reminder that no age is too young, or too old, to learn and experience new things. Right now, no matter what age you are, is the perfect time to do the things you’ve been putting off or things that may have been intimidating in the past.

What is it you’ve been meaning or wanting to do? Now is your perfect age to do it. Is there anything you wanted to learn? How about something that scares you (a little or a lot)? I have a list of things to do or learn before 52 rolls around. One: take some classes in photography. Some of those family heirlooms I talked about in last week’s column were my dad’s old cameras. Some film, some digital. I want to put them to good use, I just don’t know how yet. I plan to take a course in wool-grading and enroll in the Master Spinners class. Last but not least, I want to do a tandem sky-dive. Ok, that last one has me a little jittery, but if a 92-year-old family member did it, I imagine I can too – and have secretly always wanted to.

This week, I invite you to think about what you’ve already accomplished in your lifetime. Whether your 10, 90, or turning 51 like me, dream a little about what you want to do, see, become this year. Because age truly is just a number, and aging gracefully means appreciating every number you’re given the chance to live.