Beauty, Aging and Wisdom

Hello Ladies,

So this week’s post is focused on aging and how I’m dealing with it. “Dealing," interesting that that’s the word I chose. It’s almost like I’ve been programed to believe the natural cycle of life is shameful and should be fought off with militaristic energy...oh yeah, that's because I have. If you’re like me, you’ve had to confront the fact that youth isn’t eternal, and your struggling with acceptance. On the surface, aging sucks. It takes me a little longer to recover from injuries now. I pulled my back putting on a sports bra recently, seriously. I can’t think of a less subtle message from the universe telling me I’m out of shape AND getting old. Thanks. Also, ads targeted towards me now have more to do “regaining my youth” rather than playing to my maturity. My lack of maturity was something advertisers played to in my teens and 20’s, offering up an entire industry to amp me from innocence to adulthood. Funny how I seemed to escape ever actually fitting into an acceptable mold set by the beauty industry.

So I’m learning how to cope. I’m learning how to “deal” with aging in a way that doesn’t leave me emotionally incapacitated. I’ve noticed I’m making some observational adjustments these days. Things I felt certain of just two years ago are starting to become more flexible. I’m noticing terms I thought were etched in stone have become less rigid and more liquid. One of the most profound areas where my personal perspective has shifted is what passes for beautiful these days. I think this may be a side effect of making more eye contact and observing the world around me (see my earlier blog about kindness for more details.) It’s hard not to notice more beauty when you’re connecting over a “hello” and a smile. People smile and reveal a kinder side of themselves, it's beautiful. But even as I witnessed more beauty around me, I was struggling to believe it in myself after turning 40.

  

I’ve been consumed with female aging lately. If you were to look in my medicine cabinet I have intensely invested in anti-aging products, to help me to fight off the inevitable. I’ve decided to pick and choose my aging battles. I’ll fight off wrinkles like a ninja warrior using topical treatments and I’ve upped my vitamin game quite a bit. I’ve sworn off ever using surgical solutions or injections.  Also, I have decided to go grey, which has led to some surprising observations. I’ve become more aware of the subtle changes of aging and in many ways more curios about watching the process. I’ve noticed that I want to be present in my body as I age and even see aging as a rite of passage for being alive. But as Zen as I want to be about the aging contract I’ve made with myself, some days are easier than others.

I’ll have moments of enjoying my thick head of hair, only to notice those same thick hairs are now coming in under my chin… not as much fun to revel in. The grey hairs I've become comfortable with seeing on my head, get a very different reception when they show up on other areas of my body. My still near perfect eyesight suddenly becomes less appealing when I spot a microscopic skin tag or age spot forming. Even my bowl movements feel more like an attempt at an exorcism some mornings. Physically, aging can suck. On the days when I suffer defeat, I find myself falling down a vanity K-hole, feeling like I’m moving into oblivion. My saving grace usually is a gentle reminder from the universe (usually in the form of wisdom from a female mentor or friend) that hope is not lost with aging and I’m able to recover.  

Our culture presents us (women) with some pretty limited standards for what passes for beautiful, this is nothing new. It's a small box to fit in with arbitrary rules limited by age, race, weight, intellect (don't be to smart or funny ladies), even class and economics. Most of the beauty standards revolve around youth, which the human lifespan only allows us to experience for a limited period. Once women feel they've been “aged out” of what ever arbitrary beauty standard is set for that generation, an unending race to fight aging begins. We invest in creams, treatments, surgery, diets, and routines to slow the inevitable. As young women, society programs us to believe that once wrinkles creep in, or grey hair shows up, you better rush to cover it up or risk social castration. Many women experience the fear of “having served their purpose” once past a certain age. The cut off age seems to be ever changing and left up the patriarchy to define for us. Believe me ladies, if we made these rules, crow’s feet and laugh lines would cause us a hell of a lot less stress and our contribution to society would not be defined by our age or cup size.

I remember being in my late twenties when I first panicked about aging. I was literally panicking at 29 that my best days were behind me. Even as I write this, my skin crawls with frustration. What a bunch of bull. I had no clue what was in front of me in my life, but at the time it was a real pressure. Being 29, and unmarried put me a suspicious category, which many took as permission to make observations and comments. “Was I happy without a serious relationship?” “Wasn’t I scared to be alone the rest of my life?” Or I was reassured that things would still “work out”. I heard things like, “Oh, don’t worry you still have plenty of time.” Or, “Lot’s of women are having children later in life.” Or my favorite was always, “Don’t worry you’ll know when the right man comes along.”

My twenties started with “Girls just want to have fun” and was ending with “All by myself”. But if I’m being completely honest, I wasn’t concerned that I didn’t have a wedding dress picked out. I wasn’t consumed by a biological clock counting down my remaining eggs. I was kinda ok with just enjoying my youth for myself. Sure, a boyfriend sounded appealing but I wasn’t ready to compromise just to be with someone. Plus I was still figuring out who the hell I was and what I wanted out of life. My youth was spent making mistakes, getting a lot of shit wrong, figuring a lot of shit out and learning from my mistakes. By the time I was done with my 20’s, I may have remained unmarried, but I was closer to knowing who I was. I was seeing that I was funny, opinionated, intelligent and braver than I gave myself credit for.

I remained single into my early 30’s, feeling like most of my peers were mastering life while I fumbled to accomplish mundane responsibilities. When my first adult relationship ended after two years I was in my early 30’s, but I already was starting to feel heat under my feet that doors open to my youth were starting to close. It felt like men my own age were already looking to date younger women. Most of the older men I met had lives that were more complicated then I was ready for, and involved complicated past marriages, kids, or required me to fit myself into their lives on their terms. So I recognized that I was either going to give into the pressure and settle for the wrong guy and therefore the wrong life or I was going to continue down my dimly lit path with no road map and just take my chances. The latter was more appealing to me, even though it terrified the hell out of me.

But as I stumbled from one career opportunity to the next and slowly built my own life, I noticed I was no longer seeking advice from the young girls in their 20’s. While many younger girls were waiting for their prince charming to set them up for life, I was starting to see how that fairytale played out for many friends by my late 30’s.  Infidelity, divorce, drug and alcohol use and even abuse were things they were dealing with. Now, yes, a large number of women in my life had good marriages but I noticed marriage did not equate with happiness. It was rare to have a friend who “had it all” and was happy. As I observed my friends struggling to make their marriages work, I struggled too. Single, insecure, scared, and aging, I worried that without a partnership I would fall into obscurity. The countdown had officially begun towards oblivion and I needed experienced wisdom to help me handle this. Interestingly, my best advice came from older women. My insecurity and anxiety was eased by the wisdom coming from women, not girls.

By my late 30’s I was in what I believed was my last chance at a relationship. The wrinkles that I used to be able to erase with crème now could only be diminished, not totally erased. I was getting more gray hair then I could just pull out in one sitting and the adorable peach fuzz on my face was being assaulted by rugged coarser hair that made my chin look like I was auditioning for Pirates of the Caribbean. The pressure of needing to make a relationship work became more intense.  I franticly bought into this idea that my ship was about to sail and I needed to get on board even if it was clear my boat was a dingy that was taking on water.

I was so consumed with believing that this relationship was my last chance at ANY relationship, I overlooked red flags in my partner. I looked past the warning that he was commitment phobic. I looked past the flag that he wasn’t being honest with himself about his depression. I overlooked his psychosomatic issues with sexual arousal and choose to take it on as my responsibility to fix. When that relationship ended I had also missed the flags that were pointing out I was being gaslight by a narcissist. So at 38, in a city where youth is beauty, I had to start again and try not to believe that my ship had sailed. That’s when a funny thing happened, older women started becoming more apparent and they were smart, strong and beautiful.

As I began to pick up the pieces of my failed relationship, older women in my life began to share stories of their set backs, disappointments and failures. Amazingly, these women were all successful role models and none of them were hindered by their age. They weren’t defined by the darker chapters in their lives, but had used the experiences to grow and become stronger, better and smarter. The shared consensus among the wise women in my life was, ‘Yeah, I’m old. So the fuck what? I’m still valid.’ And that was the most important take away for me. Being valid isn’t defined by your age; it’s defined by how you live your life.  Some of these women had never married but never seemed weak or helpless to me, in fact most of my female friends who stayed single seemed very happy. Some of my older female friends were widows and their lives didn’t stop when their husbands died, in fact they were busier than ever trying to fit everything in. I was noticing that I had a lot of older women in my life who knew a hell of a lot. These women all had experiences that I could learn a lot from. At 38 I was finally taking notice and appreciating the wisdom of older women in my life.

In my youth I was in a rush to prove my worth to the world without actually knowing what my worth was. When I was young it was, “get out of my way and watch what I can do.” I couldn’t imagine older women understanding what I was experiencing. I was the next generation, breaking ground and redefining the rules. Their generation was so different, how could they possibly understand? It wasn’t until I began to slow down that I observed and listened to the women around me, and holy shit did I have a lot to learn. The wisdom that was shared with me took on it’s own energy. My exposure to defeat, disappointment and despair were acknowledged, supported and comforted by older women with wisdom and experience. Suddenly my respect for each of their journey’s transformed how I saw them and how I saw aging. Aging wasn’t just something that took from you. If you’re smart and lucky enough to pay attention aging can teach you things as well.

For the women brave enough to age naturally, a new level of beauty was revealed to me. The wrinkles were indications of laughter, loss, stress and joy. Their aging hands are a testament to a body well used by time and experience. For those “brave” enough to go grey, I suddenly saw beautiful wise women warriors. Older women have so many stories that can shed light for us. When I’m stumbling in the dark trying to figure out where the hell I’m going wrong, older women have consistently been there to light the path for me and help me find my way. I’m starting to notice that more young women are asking for my advice, and I’m sharing experiences that I hope will be helpful. My role models now tend to have grey hair, wrinkles, natural bodies and careers. Beautiful to me now is a woman who is self-sufficient, she’s a survivor and has the scars to prove it. These women are who I hope to become as I age.   

Our culture wants to diminish female aging, it wants to make it seem weak and something to fear but it simply isn’t true. Aging, if you’re doing it right, brings wisdom and wisdom is power, and when wisdom and power collide it can be beautiful. I believe this now because I’ve witnessed it in the women I know. I see it with the women who are smart and too old to give a damn about being told to be quiet. I see it in the women who are still fighting the patriarchy and are too old to be “nice girls” anymore. Ladies, when you start listening to the older women in your lives you’ll realize we have some bad ass warrior bitches that walk among us, and it’s beautiful. Find them. Listen to them. Love them.            

Wisdom and beauty are two things I’m changing my perspective on as I get older. When I was younger I didn’t realize the value of having relationships with older women. To be honest there was definitely a bit of ego and brashness in thinking that older women were out of touch and didn’t get my generation. Most women seemed tempered in their lives and I just didn’t think about their experiences. Chalk it up to the self-centeredness your 20’s, sometimes all that youth and energy makes us to blind to valuable connections that might even save us some self-inflicted grief.

I still struggle with accepting the physical aspects of aging, but I also notice how much an older women shines when she embraces who she is and I’m hopeful. These days I see older women sporting grey hair and I think, "Rock it sister. When I go grey I want to look like you." I listen to wise women speaking about their experiences and I hope I can achieve that wisdom one day. I sense the calm patience attained by older women and I’m reminded that I too can achieve this in my life. I see matriarchs in the older women all around me these days. They are the torchbearers who’s legacy we carry on and build from. Our role is to pave the paths they cut so the daughters, nieces and girls who follow have a smoother road to walk on. But mostly when I’m with older women these days I see the beauty of their wisdom that inspires me to be better. I want to offer the world more than my vanishing youth. I want my life to have the same depth as the women who inspire me.  Yes, I still struggle with aging but being around older women makes my struggle easier. Everyday my female role models disprove the notion that aging makes us obsolete. So to the wise older women, I can honestly say: Thank you for being so powerfully beautiful and helping to shine light on me while I stumble in the dark. You have inspired me more than you’ll ever know.