Goddesses Don’t Age… But They Do Turn 65

Here I am at 65!

My birthday was last weekend, and it wasn’t just any birthday.

It wasn’t one of the “0” years. It was an even bigger milestone to swallow than that.

I turned 65.

I have to admit I’m struggling with this one a bit. When I was in my mid-50s, I wrote an article, “When Did That Happen?” about the dizzying speed of aging – how one day you’re a fresh-faced adult figuring out who you are, and the next thing you know, you’ve hit middle age.

At the time, I looked up the official definition and saw that the U.S. Census Bureau defines middle age as 45 to 65. I remember thinking, Whew. I still have eight years before I’m officially old.

Well. Here we are.

In that article, I talked about how I planned to push back against aging—staying curious, keeping a fresh attitude, and taking care of my body. For the most part, I’ve held up my end of the bargain. In some ways, I’m even better. Fusing my cartilage-free ankle in 2020 gave me the mobility I needed to stay active, which turns out to be everything.

Apparently, something is working because people act shocked when I say I’m 65. Maybe they’re just being polite. I’ve decided not to overthink it. Years ago, my friend Isobeau told me that goddesses never age, and I’ve been operating under that assumption ever since.

My friend Isobeau and I will never age.

Hitting my 60s was another signpost that revved up my apprehension about being classified as a “senior.” I wrote about the realities of aging, including taboo topics and rude surprises, in the article “We Don’t Talk About Aging,” including facing our own mortality when we still have so much more to contribute to the world.

The article helped me face the mind-boggling reality that time is not unlimited. That knowledge has been strangely freeing. I’ve had to prioritize what I want to accomplish in the time I have left.

I’m more particular about how I spend my time and energy, my most precious resources. The time to pay my dues is over, and now it’s time to use my experience and expertise in ways that will have the greatest impact.

Of course, turning 65 also comes with other, less philosophical realities. There are decisions to be made, deadlines that matter, and an entire alphabet of Medicare options that can make your head spin. Ignoring this birthday isn’t really an option.

But maybe the bigger issue is that I’ve carried around for over a decade the idea that 65 is the dividing line between young and old. No wonder I have feelings about being this age.

And yet, I don’t feel like a different person.

I’m still me—the same person I was at 23—just with a little more life behind me and, hopefully, a little more wisdom to show for it.

Here I am in my 20s with my first dog, Petie.

Which makes it a little ridiculous that I’m feeling resistant to joining the Club Senior, considering I’ve been gravitating toward “old people” activities since my 20s. I couldn’t wait to join the Silver Sneakers exercise classes at the Y when I finally came of age. I never felt at home in classes with people in tight spandex who never sweat, preferring the slower pace and less serious tone with people who care more about showing up than showing off.

Working as the Program Director of the Empowered Senior Seminar Series has only reinforced that perspective. These “mature adults” are engaged, curious, and genuinely excited to learn and connect.

And they get my jokes.

When the power went out during one of our seminars, I reassured everyone I’d be just fine without a microphone. “After all,” I said, “I come from the Ethel Merman School of Public Speaking!” I got a good laugh. My college students would have stared at me in silence.

I’m not mad about being where I am.

Too many people I love didn’t make it to this age. I’m grateful for every questionable decision, difficult lesson, personal loss, proud accomplishment, shared love, and joyous moment I’ve had.

There are lots of good things about getting older, too.

Recently, my long-time group of friends, the Heifers, celebrated our April birthdays together over chocolate cake. We talked about what we’ve gained with age, deciding that caring less about what other people think, knowing which battles are worth fighting, and having a clearer sense of what actually matters are big payoffs of maturity.

But what we decided is the best part – the real prize - is friendship.

Getting older together is a privilege.

There’s no substitute for the shared history, the inside jokes, the support, and the love that deepen over time.

Turns out, getting older isn’t the consolation prize. It’s the reward.

And definitely something to celebrate.

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Did you know I've published a book?  Learn more about it here!

Now it's an audiobook too! Learn more about the audiobook here!

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