A few clues that you are actually in your 50s
Or how it is definitely a different vibe to your 40s whatever anyone says
My 40s were spent trying to have children, having children, bringing up children, and quitting jobs. There was a lot of time worrying about money too. That’s it in a nutshell. Oh and also discovering therapy, CBT, and learning to navigate high-functioning anxiety and childhood trauma. And also working out what kind of things I would put up with at work and what kinds of things I definitely would not.
Then the big 50 came.
It’s weird because despite what people say about age only being a number it’s a BIG NUMBER. I am only now out of the very early motherhood years (youngest is 5) and am like one of those lemming creatures, poking its little furry noggin out of a hole in the ground and saying - JEEZ THAT WAS ROUGH IN THERE. CAN I GET A BREATHER FOR 5 PLEASE?
I know I’m lucky that I could have kids at such an advanced age (fertility treatment) but I had never computed that this motherhood thing wasn’t just about ‘having a baby’. It was instead about having a small, active, needy creature whilst going through perimenopause, feeling invisible and all the other calamities that hit us in later life. I had never anticipated that finding work would be so hard (finding work that was compatible with being an older mother). There is not enough talked about when it comes to being an older mother- the fact that you will have to work longer with small children and potentially dealing with age discrimination…well that’s a perfect storm in itself.
Anyhoo. I try not to think too hard about how many years I will need to work in order to pay for my kids university. I joked with a friend last week that I would probably be dead by then anyway, so they could have whatever value sits in this house, and divvy it up. I then thought hard and realised this was not that far from the truth and explained why her eyebrows had shot into her hairline and she’d gone silent. There are however a few other things that I’ve noticed that make the 50s different.
Here’s my list:
I’m aching all the time somewhere in my body
Speak to any woman in their 50s, and they will usually start a conversation by telling you which part of their body hurts right now. Each morning my head is crunched right up into my upper back, my neck seemingly contracted like an ancient turtle, curled up inside its shell. My lower back complains whenever I move. I am always in some kind of pain- either a low level rumble or something more acute like a headache (and as far as I know there isn’t anything serious wrong with me, it’s just the ratio to living cells versus those on their way out perhaps).
Body changes and hands like an alien
In my 40s my body changed through carrying children, and giving birth, but it sort of sprang back eventually (actually this is a lie as it didn’t spring it sort of rolled over and gave up). Nonetheless the way my body is changing now is alarming. It’s not that I’m scared of it. It’s just that it looks so unfamiliar. The sagging. The funny puckered texture of my stomach. The tiny pattern of blue veins in my feet. Nora Ephron, the famous writer, once said she felt ‘bad about her neck,’ but for me it’s my hands. Like ET reaching up into the cosmos in that final climatic scene. Thin, pointy fingers with veins bulging. My face too is looking more and more like my dad’s each day. I found a photo of him yesterday and I said ‘Shit Dad look at me! I am you.’
We laughed or I think he laughed in the darkening sky, as I held aloft my ET claw-hand and waved at him.
Giving less fucks (but also sometimes giving fucks)
This is a cliche and one I could never relate to when I saw content on Instagram talking about the confidence, and the desire to stop people pleasing that comes as we age. In my 40s I was still a chronic people pleaser. Then this year I noticed that the words coming out of my mouth were surprising, liberating even. I was like - WHO IS THIS BADASS BITCH? I said no far more often. I delivered home truths to a terrible boss who took it badly (she cried but if I told you the whole story you would be on my side for sure). This less fucks thing is really really different after a lifetime of head bowing, kneeling, bending to the will and needs of others. It is still in the early stages so I feel like I’m slightly discombobulated- like one half of me is standing in the people pleasing world and the other is on the other side. Some days I can’t quite decide and opt for the wrong one.
Going to bed earlier than your child
My eldest kid is 10 but I have lost the will to fight her into bed every night, only to retire about half an hour later myself. Now I take myself up to bed and she follows. She sits in bed next to me like we’re ‘Morecambe and Wise,’ and we read our books. Sometimes we journal. We argue about whether she needs to wear make up (of course she doesn’t). I fret that I never get a half hour in bed by myself, but also know that this phase doesn’t last long (the one where she wants to be in my company) so I lap it up whilst I read my book and am asleep by nine twenty five. I also wear a sleep mask. And ear plugs. And have to take two Kalm tablets and spray a sleep spray onto my pillow. I wake most days at 5.45am on the dot. I know this is age related too and in the years to come I will no doubt set off to do my shopping at 6.30am and wait outside the supermarket for at least an hour as they don’t open that early.
Feeling more comfortable with death
This weekend there was a feature in the Sunday paper on all the famous people that had died in 2023. I noted many were my contemporaries. From my generation. Matthew Perry. Sinead O Conner. Shane McGowan. These were all people I grew up with. Okay some had drug problems and trauma but they were still part of the popular culture I grew up with. Pretty much all the icons from my childhood have died - Prince, Michael Jackson, George Michael, Freddie Mercury, Whitney Houston, Michael Hutchence- these were the people who were on my wall growing up (some from drugs, okay many from drugs but still gone).
I remember this phenomenon happening with my mum and she said to me - ‘It’s started,’ and I said ‘What’s started?’ and she said ‘All my crowd are disappearing one by one,’ and I didn’t understand. It’s not just people it’s also familiar things. Old school telephones. People serving you in shops instead of scanning stuff. People not looking at one another on public transport anymore.
The familiar things going and new things that you aren’t convinced are good springing up. A lingering sadness about these changes too.
Also non-famous people who are in my peer group are dying. This does of course make me feel incredibly fortunate but it also rubs in the idea that I need to fit more into my life. That time is running out. It also makes me feel a bit sad that I haven’t achieved the things I’d hoped so far. Each time I see an obituary now, someone my age or similar, I see their outline dissolving into thousands of tiny, barely invisible atoms.
I am not afraid of death like I was when I was a child.
As we get older we know more people who have died and so it doesn’t feel so frightening. I still want to believe in an afterlife. The loss of my infant sister did that to me. I had to believe because the alternative was too rough to face up to.
Taking baths instead of drugs
When I was young I did drugs. I did a lot. I could have died. By my mid 20s I rarely touched drugs. I drank instead. Now I’ve stopped drinking and my drug is a bath. I put Epsom salts in, and I try and get the water so hot that it turns my skin pink. I put a flannel on my face. I feel like this is what I will do when I’m dying. I will run a bath and get in, and feel the hot reassurance of the flannel on my face. Hopefully my family will get me out again and not strangers and they’ll dress me (I don’t want strangers to see me all pink in the bath).
Liking strong flavours
I like mince pies. I like strong tastes. Strong cheese. I remember dad telling me that your taste buds change as you age and you like stronger flavours. I have no science to back this up but I definitely eat more pickled onions.
Knowing my way around friendships
This is like a super power when you get to your 50s. I have developed my radar now so I can sense a huge ego a mile off. I am also good at feeling out who is good, fun and my vibe versus who isn’t. Sometimes I make mistakes but I am much quicker at course correcting i.e. leaving a friendship if I’ve got it wrong and misunderstood who they really are.
Old songs making me sad
This is something relatively recent but just about any song recorded pre 1990 makes me feel this way. This is because I’m far more nostalgic. I am unsure whether this is about declining brain cells, but I also know my Gran had very vivid memories of her childhood as she got older. She kept talking about it and singing the songs she’d sung as a child. It gave her comfort but it also made her feel quite isolated.
This sad crying when the radio is on means that I cry a lot when I’m making lunch. It means that I cry when I’m running sometimes. I also cry on commercials and films. In fact crying has become much more regular. I sometimes prefer listening to talking radio instead so I can keep my shit together.
So there you go. These are just some of the things that await. ET claws. Crying. Hot baths. Death. It’s all part of life’s rich tapestry. Oh and pickles. Maybe it’s not so bad. Maybe I’m the luckiest woman right now because I get to even write this down.