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Jan Flynn

Older is Better And I've Got 10 Reasons To Prove It

Good news for aging people — which is everyone



 

Betty White said, “The older you get, the better you get — unless you are a banana.” In case you're wondering if life can actually get better (especially in a world that's gone bananas), my experience says Betty was right, and I've got ten reasons to prove it.


1. The older I get, the happier I am


Every time I entertain this thought, I ask myself: is that really true, or am I just blowing sunshine up my own skirt?

I can’t exactly run a longitudinal, double-blind study on my own subjective experience. But after rolling this statement around in my head enough times, I’m confident in my conclusion.

It’s true. I’m happier.

It doesn’t mean I’m delighted about my age spots, thinning skin, and weird sleep patterns. I’m not thrilled with the shape the world is in politically, sociologically, climatically, or even morally. 

But my perspective has changed. Not just changed, expanded. I don’t see the world so much in terms of my own limited experience or lifespan. 

An aging body is a mixed blessing, but a great teacher if you’re willing to listen. It has lessons to offer: lessons in detachment, in identifying with something larger and more lasting than how you fill out your Spanx, in being okay with the undeniable fact that youth doesn’t last forever and neither do you.

That’s not nihilism; that’s reality. And an aging body is here to help you realize that’s okay. It’s how life — the whole splendid tapestry in which you get to be a thread — works. 

Now that I’ve got my head around that, I honestly do feel freer and more trusting of the universe. And yes, happier. 


2. My body is a much better friend than my ego


Speaking of bodies: I haven’t always been very nice to mine. There were times I denied it food or sleep, sometimes both, and still expected it to perform on demand. 

I dressed it in outlandish outfits designed not for my pleasure but for display, and was often unhappy with the results. I rarely appreciated all my body did for me.

Instead, I was in thrall to my ego. My ego is easily confused. It tends to act like it’s the whole shebang, even though it knows better. Touchy about its status, its insecurity makes it endlessly demanding: more attention, more assurance, more stuff, more, more, more. 

Maybe your ego acts the same way. If so, you’ve learned it’s never satisfied, at least not for long. And along the way on its endless quest for gratification, it’s viciously critical and hard on the body.

Mine certainly was. I feel sad for my poor body, looking back on all the times I hated on it for not being shaped differently or being incapable of superhuman feats — or supermodel allure, which would have made my ego very happy for a nanosecond until it found something else to need.

Yet all that time, my body kept faithfully doing its best, taking all the punishment I gave it and still carrying me through the world.

Getting older means coming to terms with the ego. And mine, I’ve learned, is nowhere near as reliable as my good old body, which has (mostly) forgiven me. 

By now, my body is getting a little rickety, but it has my respect and trust. These days I’m 100% Team Bod.


3. Other people’s opinions are like soap bubbles


They’re shiny and impressive — for a moment, until they pop. In vanishingly rare instances do they merit any further attention.

How curious that I once spent so much concern on such ephemera.

I don’t anymore, which has a lot to do with Reason #1


4. I can’t save the world. But I often save the day


Here’s another paradox about aging, at least in my experience: I care more about the world, in the sense of appreciating it and everyone and everything it contains. At the same time, I know there’s not a whole lot I can do about it.

Not on a world scale, anyway. Probably not even on a next-door-neighbor scale (really, did Fred have to put THAT sign in his front yard?). 

I don’t have power over much at all. My home’s thermostat, maybe — on the occasions when I remember how to reset it. I certainly don’t have power over what’s happening in the Middle East, or the weather, or the next election (sigh).

I do have power to, however. Power to decide how to respond, or not to respond at all. Power to offer help where I can, and to mind my own beeswax when I can’t. Power to catch myself when I indulge in cynicism or despair, or waste time doomscrolling, and power to switch to something more positive.

That’s how I save the day, at least my day. My day is the only day I have jurisdiction over. The more content I am with it, the better for everyone around me. 


5. Nobody cares what I weigh anymore


Actually nobody ever did; I just thought they did. Well, except for my OBGYN when I was pregnant, and I fired my first one for nagging at me because I gained three pounds in the first trimester. Try doing this yourself, fella, and get back to me.

But as ridiculous as it sounds now, I didn’t know that nobody cared what I weighed, not for far too many years. Not that I would have admitted it out loud, but I wholeheartedly equated my worth, in inverse proportion, with the number on the bathroom scale.

It didn’t help that I spent my early professional years as a young woman in show biz. I actually used to feel bad that I lacked the willpower to be anorexic. 

What a relief to have finally figured out Reason #2. I don’t own a scale these days, and not once has anyone pointed at me and screamed.

Well, except for that time I had that spider crawling up my back.


6. Moderation in all things, including moderation


One of the hardest things about being young is figuring out where the middle of the road is. In my case it involved a certain amount of bouncing back and forth between the gutters.

That was exhausting. It’s a relief to understand my limits. 

On the other hand, I’ve also learned that there are times that call for a bit of what-the-hell abandon. Times when it’s good to let my hair down. 

Just not so far down that I give myself a crick in the neck.


7. I’m not crazy, I’m eccentric


In contrast to my validation-hungry youth, I don’t waste effort twisting myself into whatever shape I think others will approve of. 

Here’s the delightful discovery: general law-abiding aside, the only permission I need is my own. Moving through the world with that understanding is a game-changer. 

By not seeking others’ approval, I seem to attract it. People — young people! — sometimes come up to me and express their admiration. They say they hope to be as cool (if they can imagine one day being as old as me).

At least, that’s what they tell me to my face. Any less pleasant opinions they may harbor fall under Reason #3.


8. Older = richer


Not rich in the sense of belonging to the top 1% of the top 1% — not even close in my case. I’m talking rich in experience, perspective, appreciation, and tolerance. All of which take a while to accumulate.

As for material well-being, I live cozily if not lavishly. Honestly, I don’t know how comfortable I’d be if I had to keep up a lavish lifestyle. That takes a lot of work, and a lot of caring what other people think, which would be counter to Reason #3.

I’m comfortable. I wish the same were true of everyone in the world, but then I refer to Reason #4.

And the older I get, the less chance I’ll outlive my money. Yay!


9. Worry is useless. I worry anyway. But that doesn’t worry me


I was a sensitive, anxious kid. I’m still susceptible to the heebie-jeebies, about things possible and impossible, real and imagined. 

Especially things imagined. You’ve heard the old saying that 98% of the things you worry about never come true?

See? Worrying works. Kidding! Kind of.

One of the gifts of getting older is that I’m onto myself. I know there are certain ruts worn into my brain, the tendency to worry among the deepest. But I also know it’s just a rut, and one I don’t have to freak out about just because I stumble into it from time to time. 

I have plenty of experience in climbing back out.

So it’s really nothing to worry about.


10. I can get away with so much more now I’m older


See #7.


If you too are of an age you’ve lived through some hair-raising times. Viet Nam, Watergate, mullets, maybe even the McCarthy era. You’ve weathered storms and survived, maybe battered but wiser. 

If you're young, it might help to know today's brand of insanity may be unique to our moment in history, but they're not humanity's first cray-cray rodeo. Check with the elders in your sphere; we may offer you some reassurance.

On a personal level, we’ve survived losses. Not that we’d sign up for more if it were up to us, but we know even the hardest parts of life can be endured and, eventually, assigned their proper place.

Fellow elders: we have a lot to contribute right now, when the apprehension in the zeitgeist is dialed way past 11.  

We have experience and wisdom, and that matters. Simply modeling what we know may be the best thing we can do. It's not like we have to stand on a soapbox in the town square and yell "Everybody chill out; we'll be okay!" into a bullhorn.

That would be bananas.

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2 Comments


Guest
Oct 29

Very well put, dear friend! You've covered the bases. May we hang on to this delicate equilibrium of wisdom daily!

Deborah

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Guest
Oct 23

Jan

Thank you for your brilliant insight! You’ve verbalized thoughts swirling in my head, but they had no platform on which to land. You’ve succinctly provided me with one. Case in point: Last Saturday I went to the market without any makeup (that NEVER would have happened years ago); didn’t care. Yesterday I spent much of the day running errands with a tiny drop of coffee on the front of my shirt; didn’t care. Oh, the freedom!! :) Wishing you continued success with your writing!!

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