#URBAN DICTIONARY: #Black Don’t Crack: The skin of African Americans does not wrinkle and show age as much as individuals from other ethnic backgrounds.
Why did I choose the name “My Black is Not Cracking?” Well, for years I had heard that phrase. Well into my 30’s I would get carded and there would be a surprising response upon inspection of my driver’s license. If the guy carding me happened to be African American, I would often hear that phrase. “Black don’t crack.” I used to think it was funny. And it felt like a compliment. I mean who doesn’t want to be mistaken for someone younger?
And that is the issue that bugs me the most now. Why are we all so obsessed with being mistaken for someone younger? With Anti-Aging? Why is it not okay to be the age that you are? Why do we live in such a youth obsessed culture? I totally understand that looking good makes us feel good, but what I want to get to is “feeling good, making us look good!”
I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news, but black most certainly does crack. It might crack slowly, but it cracks! I’m watching it crack…daily. And I feel bad about it, but should I? Yes, it is true the skin of African Americans doesn’t wrinkle as fast as it does for those of other ethnic backgrounds. But, as good as we may look on the outside, we disproportionately suffer from hypertension, diabetes and obesity.
Now not to get too deep into the science of why black skin doesn’t crack as fast, in a nutshell it’s because of the type of melanin found in our skin. We are walking around with natural sunscreen on. And the darker our skin, the more UV protection we get. Further, we have a type of collagen in our skin that also helps prevent sun damage.
I found this in an article in the paper some months back, that Skin specialist and aesthetician Bianca Estelle, also states that we typically have a higher oil content, so we have a natural skin hydration system that makes black skin look hydrated and smoother. In the same article, Dr. Almaani stated that although our skin does well with sun, it is still prone to discoloration, pigmentation issues from sun exposure and hormonal effects.
Another doctor, Boris Paskhover, again, same article, who is a facial plastic surgeon stated that black faces also maintain structural support longer. We are born with denser bones in our face that don’t break down as quickly as other ethnicities.
So, those are the reasons that our faces take longer to crack. In addition, we are less prone to osteoporosis. But what I really want to address is not just how we look, but how we feel. (Inside and out) Why was I so devastated when I looked in the mirror one day and pretty much every day since? (with my glasses on!) When did my face shape turn into a square?
Why are we obsessed with anti-aging, instead of aging well, with style, grace and dignity? Why is the anti-aging industry revenue projected to be some $400 BILLION, by 2027? Why do many seem to be more concerned with their face, than their bodies, minds and spirit?
That is what this is about. The title was just to get your attention. Intrigued? Offended? Curious? Whatever. You got here. I hope you will stick around because this is for all women AND those that love them.
I saw the coolest thing on Instagram the other day. There’s a place in NYC called The Happy Medium. It’s an arts club. Not a gallery. An actual club for creativity.
They offer workshops in pottery, painting, drawing. You can even learn how to build a damn chair or a lamp. You choose from a menu of creativity. Instead of ordering food or drinks, you order art experiences. That idea alone stopped me in my scroll. I’ve written about this before, but I feel so strongly about the benefits of expressing creativity, that I’m revisiting the topic. Perhaps I needed the reminder!
Visiting the Happy Medium’s website immediately took me back about twenty years to when I was living in downtown LA. I walked into the art supply store around the corner and bought paints and supplies, even though I hadn’t painted since a watercolor class a decade earlier, before that, in high school. In the early ’90s I’d picked up pencils and drawn a bit, but outside of writing (which I had just begun) my only consistent creative outlet was in the kitchen. And yes, they’re called the culinary arts for a reason.
My paintings weren’t very good. But I loved painting. I was drawn more to collage, though I never quite got around to it. Last year I even took an online collage course, but life did what life does, and I never really started.
What I did discover, over and over again, was this: whether it was writing, painting, or cooking, anything creative completely relaxed me. I would get lost in it. I’d start early in the day and suddenly realize it was dark outside. It was an escape. Not from life, but from mental noise. I was giving a part of my brain a much-needed break.
For a long time, one of the things I looked forward to when I imagined I might no longer have to work (silly me) was finally having time for creative interests. Time to actually learn how to paint and to explore collage and other mediums.
As usual, that curiosity led me once again to research the benefits of creative pursuits as we age. (Especially now, when it feels like both the current administration and AI are doing their best to squeeze the arts into irrelevance.) Unbelievable as it may seem, I wasn’t even aware of ChatGPT until I mentioned to a friend that I needed to send thank-you notes for foundation donations and he suggested I “just use ChatGPT.”
Because yes, a robot writing thank-you notes would feel so genuine. NOT.
Don’t get me wrong, technology is incredible when it assists rather than replaces. I feel the same way about how technology has nearly destroyed the music industry, replacing real musicians with computers, and now attempting to replace artists altogether. Seriously… do we really want robots in concert? Everything already sounds the same, and not in a good way. I’m grateful I grew up in an era of real art, real musicians, real music, and producers who actually produced and not just glorified computer programmers!
Okay….slight detour.
What this post is really about is this. The anti-aging benefits of engaging in and enjoying the arts, and why creativity isn’t a luxury as we get older, but a necessity.
We spend a lot of time talking about anti-aging in terms of creams, supplements, diets, and workouts. But one of the most powerful and most joyful anti-aging tools is often overlooked: participating in and enjoying the arts.
The arts don’t just make life richer. They actively help keep us younger, and not only mentally, but emotionally, and even physically.
When you engage with the arts, whether it’s painting, dancing, acting, singing, writing, playing music, attending theater, or visiting museums, your brain lights up. Multiple areas activate at once: memory, imagination, emotion, coordination, and problem-solving. This kind of stimulation helps build and maintain neural connections, which is critical as we age. In other words, the arts help keep your brain flexible, curious, and resilient.
Creativity also reduces stress and trust me, I know first-hand that stress is one of the biggest accelerators of aging. Immersing yourself in music, movement, or creative expression lowers cortisol levels, slows the nervous system, and promotes a state of flow. In that space, time softens, and worries fades. Your body and mind get a break from survival mode, which supports better sleep, improved immunity, and overall vitality.
There’s also the emotional benefit. The arts give us a place to process grief, joy, anger, love, regret, and hope! (All the complex emotions that come with living longer.) Suppressed emotions age us. Expressed emotions heal us. Creative outlets allow us to release what we carry instead of letting it harden inside our bodies.
Social connection is another powerful anti-aging factor. Participating in the arts often brings people together for rehearsals, classes, workshops, galleries, audiences. Loneliness has been shown to age us faster than many physical conditions. The arts create community, shared experience, and a sense of belonging, all of which are essential for long-term well-being.
And then there’s identity. Aging can make people feel invisible, irrelevant, or “past their prime.” The arts push back against that narrative. They remind us that growth doesn’t stop at a certain age. You can still learn, still create, still surprise yourself. Every new skill, role, or expression reinforces the truth that you are still evolving.
Perhaps most importantly, the arts reconnect us to joy, and joy is not frivolous. Joy is regenerative. It brings lightness to the body, softness to the face, energy to the spirit. People who regularly experience joy don’t just feel younger; they look younger because they are more alive.
Anti-aging isn’t only about adding years to your life. It’s about adding life to your years.
The arts do exactly that.
So, pick up the brush or even a pen. Write a story. Write your story. Join the dance class. Write the poem. Go to the play. Sing out loud. Your mind, body, and spirit will thank you!
There comes a moment when you realize you’re exhausted and not because you’re weak, but because you’ve been strong for too long.
If you’re feeling unappreciated or taken for granted, it’s often not because the people around you are malicious. It’s because you became reliable. Capable. The one who handled it. Fixed it. Filled the gap. Carried the load. You put on the superhero cape without being asked, and over time, people stopped noticing the weight of it. They just noticed that things got done. She’s got it!
Doing too much has a cost.
When you consistently show up as the rescuer, the organizer, the fixer, the emotional anchor, you quietly teach people what to expect from you. Not because you said it out loud, but because your actions did. And eventually, your effort becomes invisible. Not valued less, just assumed.
It can be a painful realization.
What makes it harder is the guilt that creeps in when you finally want to step back. You’re tired. You want rest. You want reciprocity. You want space. But the moment you pause, folks assume something is wrong. Well, it kinda is. I’m tired.
Here’s the truth that takes a long time to accept:
You are allowed to take off the cape.
Handling these feelings starts with being honest with yourself.
Ask yourself:
- Why did I feel responsible for doing it all?
- What was I trying to prove? And why?
- Who benefited from my over-functioning?
- What did it cost me? Physically? Emotionally? Mentally? What did it cost them?
This isn’t about blame. It’s about awareness.
Next comes boundaries. And boundaries often feel like betrayal when you’ve built your identity around being “the one who always shows up.” But boundaries are not punishment. They are information. They tell others what is sustainable for you now, rather than what you used to tolerate.
You don’t need to announce your burnout with a speech. You don’t need to justify your rest. You can simply do less. Say no more often. Pause before volunteering. Let silence exist where you used to rush in.
Some people will struggle with this new version of you. That doesn’t mean you’re wrong. It means the dynamic has changed.
And yes, some relationships may shift. When people are used to receiving, your absence will feel like loss. But the people who truly value you will adjust. They’ll notice. They’ll meet you closer to the middle.
Finally, learn to appreciate yourself in the ways others didn’t. Acknowledge what you carried. Honor the effort you gave freely. And forgive yourself for not knowing sooner that being everything to everyone often means becoming nothing to yourself.
You don’t stop being strong when you take off the cape.
You become human again.
That’s not failure.
That’s growth.
There’s a quiet panic that settles in when you realize you’re in what feels like your final act.
Not the dramatic kind. No curtain call. Just a slow, unsettling awareness that the road behind you is longer than the one ahead. And sadly, it feels as if the life you imagined never fully arrived. (Or in keeping the faith, it hasn’t arrived YET!)
Damn. This isn’t how it was supposed to go.
You wonder how close you came to reaching your potential. You know you haven’t. You wonder if this is the final shape of your life, or just another detour you didn’t plan on taking. I am supposed to be in the theater with my name on the marquee outside, waiting for my next production to start, creating, painting, writing, getting massages, watching waves, taking long walks, yoga and tai chi classes, visiting art galleries, dining with the few friends that remain, or sitting in a big ass chair with a stack of food magazines!
You took Mom’s advice. Study accounting. You’ll always have something to fall back on. You’ll always be able to work. The world will always need folks to crunch numbers. You did what you were told. You worked. Boring and unfulfilling as it was, you worked; sometimes, several jobs at once. Did I say sometimes? I mean, mostly! You raised folks. You sacrificed. You postponed joy, postponed rest, postponed yourself, trusting that later would make good on all those delays. Later was supposed to be the payoff. Later was supposed to be freedom. I have never felt less free. WTH?
And yet here you are, in retirement, or at least something that looks like it on paper and yet forced to take a job just to make the numbers work. To PAY FOR YOUR HEALTH EXTORTION, I meant health insurance! Gee thanks! (you know who you are!) Supplement the supplement check. Cover the gap. Ease the anxiety. Somehow, impossibly, you’ve ended up punching a clock again after not punching one for 35 or 40 years. What in the actual f#?k!
That part stings more than you expect.
You’re back to living for the weekend. Back to counting days. Back to watching the clock, only now your patience is thinner, and the time feels infinitely more precious. Mondays arrive with a weight they shouldn’t have at this stage of life.
And then come the questions.
“So, how was your weekend?”
They ask it, smiling and with the best intentions. Casually. Coworkers half your age, full of time they don’t yet understand is finite. You force a smile and give the only honest answer you have: “ABOUT FIVE DAYS TOO DAMN SHORT!”
They laugh. You don’t. It ain’t funny!
Because at this age, weekends shouldn’t be the reward. Holidays shouldn’t feel like oxygen. Vacation days shouldn’t be counted like lifelines. You believed that this chapter would be different. That you’d finally be done doing what you HAD to do and would only be doing what you WANT to do. What you enjoyed. What fed you instead of drained you.
There’s gratitude, of course. You appreciate that someone hired you at this age, in a world that quietly discards older people the moment their hair grays or their pace slows. (“I DON’T MEAN ME.” In my nurse from Doc Holiday movie voice.) I CAN RUN CIRCLES AROUND THESE YOUNG FOLK! You know that isn’t nothing. You remind yourself to be thankful.
But resentment sneaks in anyway.
Resentment that survival is still dictating your choices. That after a lifetime of effort, you’re still negotiating with necessity instead of desire. That freedom feels conditional when it was supposed to be earned.
And in the quiet moments like driving home, lying awake, staring at darkness, you start questioning everything.
The decisions you made.
The risks you didn’t take. (and trust and believe I took many!)
The dreams you deferred one too many times.
The version of yourself you were sure you’d become.
No one really prepares you for this reckoning. For the grief of unmet expectations. For the strange mix of exhaustion and restlessness. For the feeling that time is suddenly loud AF.
And yet, here you are. Still showing up. Still breathing. Still capable of wanting more.
Questioning how you got here doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It means you’re awake. And as long as you’re awake, the story, however frustrating, and however unfair, ain’t completely over!
I’m going to figure it out folks and if you’re right there with me, you will too! Keep the faith. What else have we got?
Damn. Why did I say that? Why did I do that? How did I screw that up? How could I be so stupid? I wish I wouldn’t have……..(Fill in the blank!)
Regret is a strange companion. It shows up uninvited, usually late at night or in the quiet moments when we’re finally still. It replays old scenes with brutal precision; what you said, what you didn’t say, the door you walked through instead of the one you hesitated in front of. And it always carries the same accusation whispered in the silence. “You should have known better.”
But the truth is, regret is useless.
Not because the past didn’t matter. Not because the choices weren’t real or the consequences weren’t painful. They were. Some are still painful if we allow them to be. But regret assumes something that simply isn’t true. It assumes that you had access then to the wisdom, clarity, courage, or emotional maturity you have now. Cue the game show wrong answer buzzer!
You didn’t. That’s not how this works!
You made the best decisions you could with what you knew, what you felt, and who you were at that moment. That version of you was likely shaped by fear, hope, survival, love, trauma, and desire. Judging that person through the lens of who you’ve become is unfair. It’s like scolding a child for not understanding the demands of adulthood.
When you’re young, you’re busy surviving and becoming. There’s no time to linger over every misstep. But as the years begin to stack up, reflection becomes unavoidable. We look back with sharper eyes and wiser minds while listening to the ticking clock of time. Wisdom is earned through lived experience. And lived experience is often messy.
We tell ourselves that regret keeps us accountable. That if we hold onto it long enough, we’ll somehow redeem the past. But news flash! The past is not accepting revisions. It is closed. Final. Done. Untouchable. All regret can do is keep you emotionally tethered to a moment that no longer exists, draining energy from the only place where change is possible. RIGHT NOW.
Regret doesn’t fix what happened. It doesn’t heal the wound. It doesn’t resurrect the relationship, the opportunity, the version of life you imagined. It just keeps reopening the scar, convincing you that pain is proof of growth.
Nope! It isn’t.
Growth comes from reflection, not punishment. It comes from asking, what did this teach me? What did I learn? (Instead of why was I so damn stupid?) Regret wants you to stay stuck in shame. Wisdom wants you to move forward.
There are things I wish I’d said differently, or not said at all. Situations I wish I’d left sooner. People I wish I’d protected myself from. But wishing doesn’t honor the life I was living then. It erases it. That life, messy as it was, carried me here. And here is where I finally understand things I couldn’t before.
Regret also has a sneaky way of romanticizing roads not taken. It has a way of editing out the reality, the stress, the trade-offs, the unknown, and replaces it with a fantasy version where everything worked out perfectly. As if! Every path closes off another. That’s not failure. That’s called being human.
Letting go of regret doesn’t mean pretending you don’t care. It means choosing compassion over cruelty. It means acknowledging that you survived, learned, adapted. It means trusting that the clarity you have now is because of what you lived through, not in spite of it.
If the past could be changed, most of us would have changed already. Since it can’t, the most radical thing you can do is stop dragging it into the present.
The past is done. The lesson remains.
And that’s all you ever needed to carry forward. Let the rest of that S*#T go! Carrying all that mess is heavy! Lighten your load.
I know, it ain’t easy, but it is necessary.
I used to believe that holding on was a sign of loyalty. That endurance meant strength. That if something or someone had been part of my life for a long time, I owed it permanence.
There comes a moment in life, sometimes quietly, sometimes like a lightening bolt, when you realize that certain things, habits, and even people no longer fit who you’ve become.
Not because they’re bad.
Not because you’re better.
But because you’ve grown.
Growth has a way of rearranging everything. What once felt familiar can begin to feel heavy. What once energized you can start to drain you. And relationships that once made sense may no longer align with the person you are becoming.
This is where shedding begins.
Letting go isn’t an act of cruelty. It’s an act of honesty. It’s acknowledging that holding on to what no longer serves you comes at a cost. That cost might be your peace, your clarity, or your ability to move forward.
There comes a quiet moment and sometimes after a season of discomfort, sometimes after a single, unmistakable realization, when you recognize that what once fit you no longer does. The conversations feel forced. The spaces feel smaller. The version of you that once thrived there feels like a past life.
Admitting that is painful.
I have talked a lot about grief and the loss over loved ones and friends over the past few years, but rarely does anyone talk about the grief that comes with becoming. We celebrate growth, but we don’t always acknowledge what it costs. Because growth often requires shedding; shedding layers, identities, relationships, and even dreams.
There is real pain in outgrowing people and places. There is grief in recognizing that a chapter has ended, even if it was beautiful while it lasted. We often mourn not just what was, but what we hoped it would continue to be. And that grief deserves space.
I’ve learned that not everything that was right for you once is meant to walk with you forever. And that doesn’t make those people or moments less meaningful. It just means their purpose in your life has changed.
Some relationships don’t end with explosions. (Sometimes they DO!) They fade. They soften. They shift into something quieter and more distant. I’ve had to learn that loving someone doesn’t always mean keeping them close. Sometimes it means wishing them well from afar. Sometimes, the healthiest choice is to love people from a distance.
Shedding also applies to things like roles we’ve outgrown, expectations we never chose, beliefs that once protected us, but now limit us. We carry so much without questioning whether it still belongs to us. Growth asks us to check in and decide what we’re willing to keep carrying forward.
Here’s the hard truth: growth is not comfortable. It’s disruptive. It asks for courage and a willingness to sit with discomfort. But stagnation is far more dangerous. Because if you are not growing, you are slowly dying, and not always physically, but emotionally, creatively, spiritually. You begin to shrink yourself to fit spaces you’ve already outgrown. That kind of distance can feel like betrayal. Especially when you’re the one choosing it.
I’ve wrestled with guilt. With second-guessing. With the fear of being misunderstood. But over time, I’ve realized that abandoning myself to keep others comfortable is not kindness. It’s self-erasure.
Letting go has forced me to confront who I am now, not who I used to be or who others expect me to remain. It’s required honesty about what drains me and what sustains me. It’s meant releasing old roles that I played well.
And yes, it has hurt. It ain’t easy.
There are moments when I miss versions of my life that no longer exist. When I wonder if I’ve changed too much. When I feel the ache of absence where familiarity once lived. It can be a lonely place to be. But I am also starting to feel something else. Relief.
I’ve come to understand that growth is not optional. You’re either expanding, or you’re slowly shrinking. You’re either evolving, or you are quietly fading. Letting go is not failure. It’s evidence that you are listening to your intuition and your needs. It’s proof you are becoming.
So, I’m learning to release with grace. To honor what was without forcing it to remain. To trust that making space is an act of faith that something more fitting, more nourishing will eventually fill it.
This is what growth looks like for me now.
And I’m choosing it, even when it hurts.
Photo by Thirdman : https://www.pexels.com/photo/a-text-saying-move-on-made-from-tiles-with-letters-lying-on-pink-background-5981365/
Happy Holidays to All!
I will be taking the rest of the year off for self-care and family care. My daughter is navigating a temporary MS setback, and right now my priority is being fully present for her, my grandson, and for myself.
This season, I’m choosing to reset. To guide us both through a detox of both body and mind. To slow down. To give my family, and myself, the gift of time, rest, and space to heal.
I’ll be back in 2026; healthier, clearer, and happier. Thank you for understanding and for all the love and support.
Daily Habits That Add Years to Your Life. GOOD ONES!
Many believe that longevity is written in our DNA, but research shows lifestyle plays a bigger role than genetics. In fact, scientists estimate only about 20% of how long we live is genetic; the other 80% depends on daily choices. You read that right. It means we control 80% of how we age. So, before you get to Googling “eternal youth potions,” let’s talk about some simple, realistic, and even fun ways to stack the longevity odds in your favor. And before you roll your eyes, the habits that can add years to your life don’t require giving up joy, flavor, or fun. You won’t have to survive on kale and regret!
Getting Older Isn’t the Problem—Feeling Old Is
There are days our knees crack louder than a bowl of sugar-laden rice crispies cereal, and we forget why we walked into a room. But the good news is that how long we live (and how good those years feel) isn’t just a result of luck or genetics. It’s about consistency. It’s about choosing, day after day to do the little things that keep us not just living, but thriving.
1. Move Daily (Preferably More Than Just to the Fridge)
No, you don’t need to go to the gym (but it’s a good idea!) run marathons or lift like a competitive body builder. Just move! Walk, stretch, dance, garden, or chase the dog. As little as 30 minutes of activity can lower disease risk and boost your mood.
2. Eat Real Food (If the ingredients include a long list of crap you can’t even pronounce, it’s not real food!)
The secret to long life doesn’t come in a box, bag, or plastic containers. Stick to whole, colorful foods that once grew in the ground, ate from the ground, or swam in the sea.
Load your plate with veggies, fruits, beans, nuts, and olive oil. It’s the kind of diet that fuels your body and keeps you feeling energetic. And yes, a sweet treat can be part of a well-balanced mental health plan but earn it!
3. Sleep Deeply (Because Coffee Can Only Hide So Much)
There was a time when we thought staying up all night was cool. Nope! It’s always been stupid. Now, a good night’s sleep feels like winning the lottery. Deep, consistent rest gives your body time to repair, recharge, and regulate.
Try setting a bedtime, dim the lights, and resist the urge to scroll through your phone until your eyes glaze over. You’ll wake up sharper, calmer, and maybe even nicer.
4. Stay Connected (Humans, Not Wi-Fi)
One of the best longevity hacks has nothing to do with diet or exercise. It’s relationships. Meaningful connection with friends, family, or your community reduces stress, improves mental health, and keeps you young at heart. Strong relationships are like vitamins for your soul. Laughing with friends, checking in with family, joining a club, or volunteering all help. Loneliness is just bad for your health, and let’s be honest, nobody wants to turn into that person arguing with the toaster. Connection keeps us grounded, joyful, and mentally sharp.
So, grab coffee or even a glass of wine with a friend, join a club, or call that person you’ve been meaning to.
5. Keep Learning (Because Curiosity Is the Real Fountain of Youth)
A curious mind is a youthful mind. Learn something new—take a class, read that book, try pickleball, or figure out what TikTok actually is. (Okay, maybe skip that last one.) The point is, keep your brain busy and your curiosity alive.
Whether it’s reading, taking a class, learning a new skill, or mastering technology, lifelong learning keeps your brain sharp and your spirit engaged.
Blue Zones Secrets: What We Can Learn from the World’s Longest-Living People
I have mentioned this in a previous post or two, but it’s worth repeating in case you missed it. Around the world, researchers have identified “Blue Zones” which are regions where people live well into their 90s and 100s with vitality and purpose. No miracle drugs or extreme diets here; just simple, consistent living.
Here’s what they all seem to have in common:
- Eat mostly plants. Beans, greens, and whole grains are daily staples.
- Move naturally. Walking, gardening, and household chores keep them strong without the need for gym memberships.
- Purpose matters. Having a reason to get up every morning adds years to their lives and meaning to their days.
- Connection is key. Family and community ties are strong; nobody goes it alone.
- Stress relief is daily. Whether it’s prayer, naps, meditation, or happy hour, (yes, really!) they know how to unwind.
Their secret? Joyful, intentional living. They don’t chase youth, they embrace life fully, one simple choice at a time.
The Bottom Line: Longevity Is a Lifestyle
Living longer isn’t about perfection. It’s about consistency. Move a little more. Eat something real. Sleep deeply. Stay connected. Keep learning. Laugh often.
You don’t have to chase youth when you’re busy enjoying your life. The goal isn’t just adding years to your life, it’s adding life to your years.
A little humor, a few naps, and a lot of love go a long way toward keeping you young.
You don’t need to become a fitness influencer or start drinking kale smoothies at sunrise. Just make small, steady choices that help you feel better, laugh more, and live longer.
Make one tiny, healthy shift this week. Swap soda for water, stretch in the morning, or add an extra vegetable to your plate. Small changes stack up to big results.
The habits that add years are simple, yet powerful:
- Move daily. Even 30 minutes of walking lowers risk of disease.
- Eat real food. Whole, colorful foods nourish the body better than anything in a box which is typically fake food.
- Sleep deeply. Rest allows your body to repair, strengthen, and reset.
- Stay connected. Meaningful relationships reduce stress and support brain health.
- Keep learning. A curious mind is a youthful mind.
Why Staying Active is Essential as We Age
“If you can’t fly, then run. If you can’t run, then walk. If you can’t walk, then crawl, but whatever you do, you have to keep moving forward.” ―Martin Luther King Jr.
Aging is a natural part of life, but how we age is largely in our control. So, what’s one of the most powerful tools we have? Movement. It is that simple. GTHUAM. Come on texters! You can figure that one out.
Staying active isn’t just about looking good, although for us somewhat vain individuals it is a motivating factor! It’s about maintaining physical strength, mobility, and your independence. That “I’m falling, and I can’t get up” situation is real ya’ll.
Whether it’s walking, yoga, strength training, or dancing, movement plays a crucial role in not just your physical health, but your mental, and emotional well-being. If you don’t move now, you won’t be able to later. My friends and family hear me say this all the time. My granddaughter used to call me the drill sergeant behind my back. And that is perfectly fine with me. I will proudly own that title if it means that I am helping others. It’s true. I am constantly on those I love to get up and move. I’ve also said repeatedly, “selfcare is not selfish.” I have no desire to become a burden to anyone in the future and as selfish as it may sound, not really interested in taking one on!
Recently, I tried that test of trying to lower myself to a seating position on the floor and getting up without using my hands. It was a struggle, but I am proud to say I did it! It has been said that balance plays a role in longevity. I have noticed that even my balance isn’t what it was. I tried balancing on one leg which used to be easy, holding a weight no less! Not so much these days. #Goals!
As we age, unfortunately we lose muscle. As a result, we become weaker. Research suggests that activities like walking and easy strength-training moves improve strength even in very old, frail adults. Sorry. I have no desire to be “frail!”
It is never too late to get started. Please don’t use age as an excuse. Like Nike says, “Just do it!” You can start with bodyweight exercises and eventually you’ll be able to add some light hand weights. No one is suggesting you train to become a competitive body builder here! All things in moderation.
At this point, unless you’ve been living under a rock, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Blue Zones. If not, a gentleman by the name of Dan Buettner went on this expedition to uncover the secrets of longevity in what has become known as the Blue Zones. Blue Zones are geographic regions around the world where people seem to live significantly longer than average; often exceeding the age of 100! The following areas have been recognized as Blue Zones:
- Okinawa, Japan
- Sardinia, Italy
- Nicoya Peninsula, Costa Rica
- Icaria, Greece
- Loma Linda, California, USA
It is believed that certain lifestyle factors have contributed to their residents’ longevity. One of those factors? (Bet you guessed correctly!) REGULAR physical activity. Movement! And no, they don’t frequent Planet Fitness or have memberships to Lifetime Fitness. They have movement incorporated into their daily lives. Simply taking a walk or getting up frequently, which shouldn’t be hard considering the number of times you have to use the bathroom as you age! Household chores. Gardening. Taking the stairs when presented with that option. (And if you need to, please hold on to the railing!) There are of course, other factors associated with their longevity, but for now, let’s focus on one. MOVING YOUR ASS!
Exercise isn’t just about fitness. It’s about freedom. The freedom to move without pain, to carry groceries with ease, to travel, to play with grandchildren, to dance. Movement literally keeps us alive.
So, how will moving your ass benefit you, you ask? Well, you didn’t, but here goes!
1. Protects Bone and Joint Health
As women age, the risk of osteoporosis and joint-related issues increases. Regular weight-bearing exercises like walking, strength training, or yoga help maintain bone density and reduce the risk of fractures. Movement also keeps joints lubricated. And trust me, as women age, we need all the lubrication we can get. (Insert big eye emoji here!) But I will get to that in another post!
2. Supports Heart Health
Cardiovascular disease remains a leading cause of death among women, but movement can help combat that risk. Engaging in aerobic activities such as brisk walking, swimming, or cycling improves heart function, lowers blood pressure, and reduces the risk of heart disease.
3. Enhances Muscle Strength and Balance
Loss of muscle mass is common with age, leading to weakness and a higher risk of falls. Strength training and balance exercises such like Pilates or tai chi, help maintain muscle tone, improve coordination, and keep the body strong and stable.
4. Boosts Mood and Mental Health
Exercise isn’t just good for the body; I’m pretty sure I’d be in a looney bin if I didn’t exercise. It does wonders for your mood and mental health. Physical activity releases endorphins, the body’s natural “feel-good” hormones, helping to combat stress, anxiety, and depression. Studies show that movement can also reduce the risk of cognitive decline. (Keeping memory sharp as we age so you can remember what you went into the kitchen for? Or where you left your keys.)
5. Improves Flexibility and Mobility
Tight muscles and reduced range of motion can make everyday activities more challenging. Stretching and mobility exercises such as yoga or gentle stretching routines keep the body limber, improve posture, and reduce the risk of injuries.
6. Supports Metabolism and Weight Management
As metabolism slows with age, maintaining a healthy weight can become more difficult. Regular movement helps regulate metabolism, balance hormones that can go completely off the rails, improves digestion, and supports weight management, reducing the risk of obesity-related health conditions. a/k/a Pretty much everything!
7. Encourages Social Connection
Group fitness classes, walking clubs, or dance sessions offer more than just physical benefits. They provide social engagement, which is essential for emotional well-being. Staying active with friends or in a community helps prevent loneliness and builds a supportive network.
I could go on. Need more? Additional benefits also include better sleep, relieving tension, stress, and anxiety (and in the 2-5 we can ALL use a reduction in stress and anxiety as we watch our country crumble before our eyes!) Fun. Yes, it can be fun! We can all use a little of that! Lastly, the result can be a much-needed boost to your self-image.
Getting Started: Movement for Every Level
The key to staying active is finding something you enjoy and making it a consistent part of your routine. Here are some ideas:
Beginner: Daily walks, stretching, chair yoga, dancing in the living room!
Intermediate: Strength training, swimming, Pilates, hiking (beginner!)
Advanced: Running, HIIT (high intensity interval training) workouts, dance classes
Movement is a lifelong gift we can give ourselves. No matter your age or fitness level, it’s never too late to start. By incorporating regular physical activity into your routine, you’re investing in a healthier, stronger, and more vibrant future. And please remember, even a low-intensity strength and walking program can offer substantial benefits. So, find something you enjoy (or something you will stick with and learn to enjoy!) and get moving!
MOVEMENT OR LOSE IT!
What’s your favorite way to stay active? Let us know in the comments!
https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC6304477
https://www.nia.nih.gov/news/how-can-strength-training-build-healthier-bodies-we-age
https://www.health.harvard.edu/staying-healthy/exercise-and-aging-can-you-walk-away-from-father-time
https://www.npr.org/2024/12/09/nx-s1-5189471/what-science-tells-us-about-aging-and-exercise
https://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/health/wellness-and-prevention/exercise-and-the-aging-person
“There are moments when I feel like a fish out of water gasping for connection in a place that once felt so familiar.”
One of the quieter truths about aging is how your social circle changes, often shrinking. Sometimes it is the result of loss, but sometimes it’s because of growth. YOURS.
Over the years, I’ve watched my circle get smaller. It was never that big. I learned early, you only have a few true friends, and the rest are acquaintances. Then you have your, as my sister calls them, “EVO” folks. And no, that doesn’t stand for extra virgin olive oil. EVO stands for, “entertainment value only.” We often confuse this group with real friends, but as you get older and wiser, you can easily identify them.
I moved away for a time and had a whole other social circle for a while, which was cool. Many of those folks were definitely EVO folks, but they were fun and interesting. Meanwhile, back home, my long-time social circle was definitely shrinking. At first, I thought it was something to mourn, a sign of isolation, or maybe even failure on my part. But I’ve come to see it differently. Some people simply drift away because our paths no longer run parallel. The things we once shared, no longer fit who we’ve become or are becoming.
Like some marriages, some friendships fall apart. What’s the saying? Some folks are with you for a reason or a season, or something like that! I’m too lazy right now to look it up. And like marriage, people often want to fight it and to hold on. Now, I understand that outgrowing people isn’t cruel; it’s natural. It means I’m still evolving. Maybe they are as well. Hell, maybe they outgrew me!
And then there are the losses that aren’t by choice. The friends and loved ones we lose to time, distance, or death. These absences can leave a void and a space that never fully closes. Sometimes you fill the void with new things or new folks. But those times remind me that nothing, not even connection, is permanent.
I won’t pretend it’s easy. Growth can feel isolating. There are moments when I feel like a fish out of water gasping for connection in a place that once felt so familiar. You find yourself in the same conversations, the same routines, with the same company and you realize it just doesn’t feed your spirit the way they used to. You’ve changed, but not everyone around you has. And while that can also be a good thing, it can still feel isolating. That stretch of space and time between chapters can be challenging.
And don’t get me wrong. You still love the people in your life deeply, but feel like they no longer understand what you’re reaching for. That’s when growth can feel lonely. You find yourself in between worlds: no longer who you were, not yet who you’re becoming. Passage feels more like punishment.
As I age, there has also been a shift in what I value. My time feels more precious now. When there is less of something, you tend to value it more. (Supply and demand.) My energy too. People and situations either energize us or deplete us of energy. I no longer give away my energy or time so freely. I’ve learned that my peace must be protected, and not everyone gets an invitation into that space.
But there’s another kind of distance that comes with aging; the one between those who are still living, and those who have stopped. I’ve seen people who, somewhere along the way, stopped reaching for anything. They’re not growing anymore; they’re just waiting. Waiting for the next appointment, the next meal, the next day, the next weekend; existing rather than living. That energy is exhausting to me. It’s heavy. If you’re not careful, it can start to pull you down too.
Still, there are moments when I feel very lonely. I mean “deeply” lonely. Growth can be isolating and even painful when you realize you can’t go back to who you were or where you’ve been. Sometimes you look around and realize there are fewer people who truly understand you now. But even in that loneliness, there’s clarity. There’s peace in knowing that you’re staying true to your path, even if fewer people are walking it with you.
I’ve learned to recognize the difference between someone walking beside me and someone standing still. Maybe it’s a blessing and maybe it’s a curse, but there is no standing still for me. Sure, we’re all headed in the same direction. (The dirt, if that’s your plan! Ya’ll better not put me in some dirt!) We are all heading toward the inevitable truth of aging, but I’m sorry, I’m just not going out like that!
I’m trying to walk with purpose and while I’m still not 100% sure what that is, I’m not done trying. I still want to experience, to learn, to laugh, to evolve. I don’t want to JUST exist all the way through it.
Aging has taught me that losing people isn’t always a loss. Sometimes, it’s how we make room for peace, for new people, and for life. It ain’t easy, but it’s for damn sure necessary.
I’ve been working on this book about loss for the past year. I’ve written about my own experiences, but also have been thoroughly researching the topic. The purpose of this post is not to depress the living s#*t out of you. I am hoping you’ll find it helpful. I will get back to the topic of healthy aging in the next post. I promise.
When you’re writing with the intention of publishing, they always tell you to identify your target audience. Well, that part is easy. With regard to this topic, my audience is everyone, because at some point, everyone will experience loss and grief. And at some point, everyone will need the support of friends, family, or maybe even strangers to make it through.
I experienced the devastating loss of my granddaughter on June 4, 2022. She was a passenger in a car driven by a reckless, intoxicated driver who lost control, slammed into a fire hydrant, and flipped the car. She was ejected—thrown from the vehicle—and, according to a witness (whose words I wish I could unhear), was partially trapped beneath the overturned car. He walked away without a scratch. She lay dead in a ditch, covered by a sheet, with one of her Nikes lying in the middle of the road. I’m sorry to be so graphic, but this is the visual image I see when I close my eyes. This is what everyone wants me to “GET OVER!”
What I experienced wasn’t just grief; it was trauma. PTSD, I’m sure. To arrive at that scene and hear the wails of your only child coming from inside an ambulance is just something you can never unsee; a sound you can never forget. It’s a pain that finds its way back into your body, your chest, your throat every day and every night without warning.
And if that loss wasn’t enough, it came with more loss. My daughter still lives and breathes, but in so many ways, I lost her too. The always-smiling, always-laughing child I raised is gone. My identity as “Mom-Mom” was gone. My purpose felt gone. Quite frankly, I lost everyone in my immediate family who loved my granddaughter, because we were all forever changed. We were all shattered into a million unrecognizable pieces.
And sadly, I lost people I thought were friends. When I needed them most, they disappeared. The silence was deafening.
I recently attended a conference. It is a conference I’ve been going to for twenty-seven years. Over the decades, I’ve made countless acquaintances; people who’ve known me long before I was a grandmother. They had listened to me talk about my granddaughter for twenty-one of those years. From the moment she was born, they saw pictures and videos, heard about her achievements, and came to know her through me. They came to know me as Mom-Mom.
The first year I went back after the accident was brutal. The first question was always, “How have you been?” The second was, “So, how’s your granddaughter?” And then came the moment I had to tell them. Their faces fell. The words, “I’m so sorry for your loss,” echoed again and again.
I kept to myself that year. When I could, I tried to join in, to be social and to remember what living felt like. But the truth is, I was trying to be the old me and she no longer existed. She was gone. Shattered. I was just trying to piece together whatever mosaic of myself still remained.
The second year I attended post-accident, one so-called friend said to me, “I’m so glad to see you’re in a better mood. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this in a previous post. #1. Please NEVER refer to grief as a “MOOD!” And #2. Please don’t have your first conversation with someone grieving and lead with how great your life is. And that is all that I’m going to say about that!
I skipped the next year and only recently returned. The conference has always been a mix of work and play for me. A professional event, yes, but also a kind of annual vacation. It’s a place where I feel safe traveling alone because I’m surrounded by hundreds of familiar faces. It’s social, but with plenty of space for solitude when I need it.
This year, I tried hard to be more social again by having breakfast, lunch, or drinks with people I’d known for years. And yet, time after time, I was asked, “How are you?” and “How’s your daughter?” and the one that really got to me was, “Are you better?”
That one’s easy to answer: No.
We’re not better.
We may never be better.
We are changed.
Don’t ever ask that question.
During my alone time, and there was a lot of it, though that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing as I managed to finish the first draft of a screenplay I’m submitting to my first competition. But I also spent a lot of time thinking. Thinking about grief, and about how little people really understand it. Thinking about how I might help others who are grieving, or those trying to support someone who is. Because one day, everyone will know loss. Most people lose their parents eventually. But losing a child? That’s something fewer will ever know, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
So, I want to share what I hope might help both those grieving and those trying to support someone who is. Some things to consider doing, and just as importantly, some things, in my opinion, you should NEVER say. You’ve just read three of them!
Let’s start with this: Actions speak louder than words.
When you hear the same phrase over and over, it starts to lose meaning. It’s like being in an abusive relationship and hearing “I’m sorry” after every blow; it becomes hollow. And yes, I know you’re thinking, what are you supposed to say then?
I wrote about this two years ago. When you don’t know what to say, simply say, “I love you.” It’s never the wrong thing to say to someone you care about who’s grieving. If that feels too intimate, then, “I’m here for you.” And mean it. Be there.
I remember not wanting to be hugged. Not because I didn’t need it; I desperately did, but because I was afraid I’d start crying and never stop. I’d tell people, “Please don’t hug me,” because I needed control. But silence isn’t the answer either. Being invisible isn’t the answer. “Giving me space” wasn’t what I needed.
Sometimes, you don’t need to say a thing. Just be there. Sit with me. Hold my hand. Send a simple text that says, “I’m thinking of you.” Offer your shoulder, your ear, your time. Because the truth is, there’s nothing you can say to make someone feel better.
If you’re old enough to remember vinyl records, you’ll get this: when the record had a scratch, it would skip; repeating the same lyric over and over until someone finally got up and moved the needle. It was annoying as hell.
Well, I hate to tell you, but hearing “I’m sorry for your loss” can feel the same way. It’s a phrase stuck in a skip. It might come from a place of love, but for me, it had lost all meaning.
So, if you ever find yourself sitting across from someone grieving, whether it’s been a week, a year, or a decade, remember that grief doesn’t have an expiration date. There’s no “better” waiting on the other side of it. There’s just different.
Grief changes your DNA. It rearranges the furniture of your soul. You learn to carry it, but it never gets lighter; you just get stronger. You start to build a new version of yourself out of what’s left, even though the pieces never quite fit the same.
Some days, you find yourself laughing again and realize you didn’t plan to. Other days, a random song, scent, or photo will knock the wind out of you. And that’s okay. That’s grief; unpredictable, unrelenting, and ever-present.
I’ve come to understand that grief isn’t just about what’s been lost. It’s about love; a fierce, undying love that no longer has a place to go. It lingers, looking for somewhere to land. And so, we talk about them. We write about them. We keep them alive in stories and memories because that’s what love does. It refuses to die.
So, if you truly want to help someone grieving, don’t disappear. Don’t avoid their lost love one’s name. Don’t rush their healing. Just be there. Sit with them the silence. Let it be uncomfortable. And understand that sometimes, presence is the only language that matters.
