Age-Blind

Over the past 6 months I have gone through the 5 stages of grief. Although it hasn’t been grief as much as it’s been facing a milestone.

It started with denial, as these things usually do. It just can’t be possible! I don’t feel it, I don’t think it, I don’t live it. Yet here I am.

Next came anger. Not necessarily with the milestone but with where the milestone will lead. Because all signs point to eventual decay and breaking down. Even if I do everything in my will power to stop it, it is inevitable. So, yes, anger was hovering.

Bargaining. The next step. Skipped over this because it cannot be bargained with. Which led me to depression.

Depression didn’t really last long because I don’t do depression long term. But this one was a bit longer than normal. Again, because of all that this milestone represents and leads to.

So, here on this day, the final stage has arrived. Acceptance. Because today, ladies and gentlemen, July 10, 2023, is my 70th birthday.

70th birthday!

How in the heck did I get here. It just seems unfathomable. 70 years has always represented old age, senior citizenship, retirement, sickness, slowing down, endings. Yet, it feels nothing like that. I feel the same as when I was 40 or 50 or 60. Enjoying my life, working with a vision and a purpose, living and working alongside people who I adore, people who are, nowadays, much MUCH younger than me; but people and friends, nonetheless, who are living and doing life together with me, having a blast along the way.

So I find myself thinking about age, ages in general and how the number itself causes most people to prejudge, to have certain expectations. And that’s for every age, young and old and in between. We have expectations on how a certain age bracket should behave: their ability to adapt, their work ethic, how they should look, what they’re capable of doing or accomplishing. (And believe me, I’m completely aware of the timing of these thoughts based on our current political climate. But I’m not talking about presidents. I’m talking about me and my age and people of all ages.) The age number next to our name, unfortunately, so often is looked at like a Myers Briggs test as though you could truly know someone by their age. That number has carried such power, when, in fact, all it does is tell us how long we’ve been alive.

I am so grateful for the people that I am surrounded by, both in life and in work. No one pays attention to my age and what supposedly should be my limitations, being that I’m now 70. I love that they expect me to show up, work hard, step outside my comfort zone, give my all. I don’t sit on the sidelines; I’m all in just as they are all in. And do you know why?

It’s because we are all age-blind. They’re age-blind and I’m age-blind. Because this age thing with expectations could go both ways, but it doesn’t with us. And it never will.

So…no more stages of “grief” for me. In fact, from here on out, when I have a birthday, I’m simply going to celebrate life, not the number. Not because I’m in denial but because that number means nothing compared to what the year of life itself means. And I’m going to do the same for others, celebrating them and their life, not their number. Because I am - all of us are - so much more than anyone would anticipate or expect.

So happy birthday to me!