The Shady Side of Fifty

So I turned the big 5-0 recently. I’d like to say that this milestone didn’t phase me – I am after all the one often caught saying that age is irrelevant, a man-made concept that should be paid no heed. The truth is these big birthdays – 25, 30, 40 and most definitely 50 – have always made me a little anxious. They’re a reminder that the clock is ticking, that time will, inevitably, run out.

Those earlier milestones weren’t so bad. At 20 the thought of reaching 30 seemed to me then like reaching old age, but of course once I reached 30 I scoffed at my younger self. 30 was a breeze. But 50? Well I’m finding this one a little harder and, dare I say, a little scarier. 50 is big. 50 feels like a new direction, mainly downhill and to the finish line. Not that I feel old. I don’t, and I like to think I don’t look old either – although like the protagonist in The Sum of all Parts, I am noticing some subtle differences when I look in the mirror: a few more lines, a few more grey hairs. ‘I am not what I was. I look at myself and see a virtual stranger’ (Thoughts, The Sum of all Parts). Boy is that line now way too close for comfort! I still feel like a 20-something but my reflection is saying otherwise. It’s like Phyliss Diller said, life may begin at 50 but everything else starts to wear out, fall out and spread out.

It’s not just the physical aspects of turning 50 that worry me – although I wish my eyesight would stop deteriorating and I did need rescuing recently during a unwise urge to climb a tree (please don’t ask, just be assured that the whole thing was mortifying for all involved!) No, these things are upsetting but I know they are inevitable, and who knows? Maybe grey hair will suit me. No, what is more worrying is the notion that there is not enough time left. I won’t have the time to do everything I wanted: all those places I have yet to see, all those experiences I haven’t had, all those books to read (and re-read) – oh so many books! – and let’s not forget the books I want to write….

But maybe I am just getting caught up in my thoughts. I have been blinded by all those birthday candles! Because after all, being old is mind over matter and if I don’t mind then surely it doesn’t matter. I’m definitely not ready to join the Beige Brigade, I’m not ready for sensible shoes and slacks. No, I intend to push the boundaries. I shall embrace my wrinkles and my grey hair, but I’m going to fight to keep my youth for as long as possible. I shall grow old disgracefully, growing old but not necessarily growing up: as long as there are still trees to climb, this 50 year old intends to keep climbing.

The heyday of a woman’s life is the shady side of fifty.

Elizabeth Cady Stanton

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