Reasons to Celebrate Middle Age

If childhood is the springtime of our lives, and the lazy days of summer are our teenage and young adult years, then surely middle age is our autumn. Abundant and meditative, autumn has always been my favorite time of year. That might be why middle age has been (so far, anyway) my favorite time of life.

We live in a culture that tells women we’re wrong to celebrate these years. We’re supposed to agonize over wrinkles and hide graying hair, sigh heavily and endure hot flashes with whatever grace we can muster, weep as our children head off to college and gnash our teeth over the empty nest.

Men become distinguished; women just get old.

But I refuse to believe that all my best days are behind me. In fact, I can think of half a dozen reasons to celebrate middle age.

I know exactly who I am.

Many of us wasted a lot of time, especially in those summer years, worrying about whether or not we were making other people happy. I know I did. I worried about whether I was wearing the right things, saying the right things, listening to the right music so I could have the right conversations with the right people. I worried a lot.

But somewhere along the way, I learned that making myself happy is the only thing that really matters. I’m the person I spend the most time with, after all. If I want to stay home  instead of going out with friends, that’s what I’m going to do. And I’m not going to make an excuse, or apologize, or sit around and wonder what’s wrong with me. I’m just going to stay home and do what I want.

I know who you are, too. 

By the time you reach your 50th birthday, you’ve met most of the types of people you’re going to meet. And you’ve had a lot of practice dealing with the lighter and darker sides of human nature. It’s much easier to understand when the problem is you, not me.

These days, when someone I thought I liked turns out to be an arrogant jerk, I know how to deal with them. When someone proves to be a trusted ally, I know how to cultivate that bond. You’ll meet the occasional rare bird in the second half of your life, but they’re very rare indeed.

I have the confidence that only comes from experience.

One of the most difficult parts of being a young person is that you never really know what’s going to happen: are you going to rise to meet this challenge? And if you aren’t successful, what exactly does that mean? For most of us, it takes a while to survive enough challenges that we’re able to trust our own tenacity and perseverance to get us through the storm.

As I get older, though, I can call on specific difficult experiences to remind myself that I already have what it takes to get through a difficult passage. I’ve survived the loss of people I love, financial upheavals, even the occasional full-on disaster. But at this point I know that, whatever happens, it’s going to be okay. I’m going to be okay. I’ve survived hard moments in the past; of course I can do it again.

I’ve earned some “me” time.

Now that both of my children have graduated college, putting their schedules and priorities before my own is a thing of the distant past. They’re adults. They can drive themselves where they need to go, buy themselves whatever they need, make their own plans for the future. They’re in charge of their own lives now.

And that means all 24 hours of each day are mine again. I can schedule that time however I like, without being worried about reserving space for anyone else. Unless I choose to, of course.

I know what’s important.

Most of us arrive in middle age having lost people we loved deeply: our grandparents, a parent or sibling, a child, a dear friend. We’ve watched our friends experience those losses, too. Anyone who has survived the death of a loved one understands the change of perspective that accompanies this loss: all of a sudden, it’s very clear what matters and what simply does not.

When Mike was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease, we had a similar moment of revelation. Time spent with those you love matters most. Good health matters. Kindness to others matters, too. Everything else? It’s just one spark away from being nothing.

It’s a privilege to be here.

If you know even one person who didn’t live to see their hair turn gray, you know what I mean: not everyone gets to enjoy middle age. That in itself is a reason to celebrate these middle years. I lost a good friend from graduate school very unexpectedly a few years ago, and I think of him every time I feel the urge to bemoan the indignities of aging. Consider the alternative is my mantra.

 

As this last week before Labor Day rolls out in front of us, remind yourself not to dread the inevitable change. Autumn has its own charms. And while they’re different from those of summer, they’re no less enjoyable. Maybe even a little more so.

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