60? Impossible!
This post, like me, is a work-in-progress
Sixty seems impossible. For so much of my life, I was the youngest. I skipped a grade, which meant I was always waiting—waiting to be old enough to date, to drive, to graduate. I turned 21 late into my senior year of college and didn’t celebrate because I had the GMATs the next day. At 25, I was a department head. Then I was winning creative awards and speaking at national conferences—all before 30.
At some point, I stopped being the youngest and became the oldest. I didn’t marry until 41 or have a baby until nearly 44. Suddenly, I was one of the oldest moms at preschool. And now, when I think about my closest friends, I realize I’m the oldest among them, too.
What. The. Fuck.
“You’re only as old as you feel,” they say. My brain feels young: I’m excited about AI, am a new "Swiftie over 50," and just bought an EV. I’m still the go-to friend for tech help. But my body? It feels busted. Tired. There’s a constant battle between my brain and body—the things I want to do versus what I’m up for. Would I like to pack light and ride trains through Europe? Yes! But my CPAP needs its own backpack, and I’m obsessively checking listings for “comfortable beds.”
That’s how old I am: comfortable-bed old.
I’m at the age where I’m using the specialist co-pay more often. I’m counting down the days (years, but you get it) until Medicare. I’m asking my financial planner when I can retire—or at least work less. I’ve been working since I was 15.
I’ve even considered—and I shit you not—a cruise! But not one of those massive floating petri dishes. No, I’m talking about a quaint European river cruise.
When I told my doctor I was turning 60, she grinned and congratulated me. Others say I look younger than my age (thank you, Mom and Dad, for great genes). But honestly, I’d rather feel younger than look younger. So I drag myself to the gym and follow my physical therapist’s advice, determined to keep moving as long as I want to keep moving.
Here are some celebrities older than me: Tom Cruise, Lisa Kudrow, Conan O’Brien, Sandra Bullock, Brad Pitt, Julianne Moore, Keanu Reeves. Make of that what you will.
Since I’ve made it this far, the stats say I’ll probably make it to 80. Twenty more years. To do what? How am I still asking myself that question? The “what do you want to do with your life” question pops up every fifth birthday or so. Apparently, I’m not too old for existential crises. (Do we ever outgrow those?)
I am too old for high heels. Too old for makeup—except lipstick; my grandmother swore lipstick made everything better, and she was right about most things. I’m apparently not too old for heavy metal, though my interest is “parent level” because my son is really into it.
When you get to be — ahem — my age, people often ask, “What would you tell your younger self?” Most say something like, “Don’t sweat the small stuff” (true) or “Everything works out for the best” (which is bullshit). I’d tell my younger self to get out of organized religion sooner, trust her instincts, and run toward what felt true.
Depression and anxiety were so stigmatized when I was younger and suffering greatly. I’d love to tell her it gets better, that one day people will share their diagnoses in Twitter bios like it’s no big deal. And I’d tell her to find movement she loves and can do for a lifetime.
I think today’s younger generation gets a lot right. I’m in awe of how they stand up for themselves, demand work-life balance, and refuse to settle for toxic jobs or relationships. My generation worked ourselves to death and invented "hustle culture" --I am so sorry for that, by the way. This is why we had to create grunge: to rage against that corporate machine. Were we yuppies or slackers? Hard to say.
I think of myself as a "young" old person. I won’t get into trouble with you, but I’ll encourage you to make good trouble. Egg you on, even, and then show up with bail money.
No matter what you need, “I know a guy.” Or a girl. Or a non-binary person. I’m “I know people” years old.
Or maybe I’m just officially old. Sixty is freaking me out.
