Aging, I have determined, is the longest-running reality show none of us auditioned for! Yet, here we are, still somehow making it to the next episode. (No one wants to be sent home just yet! You know? Yeah, if you believe in that sort of thing. I’m referring to the “upper room!” Okay, now I can’t stop hearing Eddie Murphy singing that in the film, Life.)
That said, lately, the plot seems to have taken a turn.
We used to compare vacation photos and questionable dating decisions. Now we compare specialists. Orthopedic vs. cardiologist. Knees vs. hips. Which teeth need to come out and which organ I have to sell to finance the procedure! Whose prescription list reads like a CVS receipt. And let’s be honest, it sucks A##! Watching people you love slow down, get sick, lose body parts or the ability to use them, is part of life. In my opinion and for some, prematurely due to poor lifestyle choices, but again, such is life. (This is the part of aging no one puts on a cute mug with a motivational quote.)
This is the full-circle moment no one warned us about.
Many of us started in daycare; tiny humans with snacks, naps, and someone reminding us not to eat crayons or lick snot. Many of us will end up right back there. Different name, same concept. Scheduled meals. Group activities. Someone checking if we’ve wandered off or climbed in bed with Mr. Anderson in room 401.
The real kicker? In the beginning, we couldn’t wait to grow up and be independent.
Now the ultimate goal is… to stay that way as long as humanly possible.
Because independence, at this stage, is the new six-pack.
And yes, unless you’ve been living under a rock, (Which might be the only thing some of us will be able to afford before this year is out!) we’ve all heard about the magical places where people live forever. The Blue Zones. Places where 90-year-olds are hiking hills, drinking red wine daily, and casually outliving everyone’s expectations. Meanwhile, the rest of us are Googling, “Is this normal?” at 2 a.m. because our elbow made a strange sound. I live in the suburbs of New Jersey, surrounded by junk food, pizza places, strip malls and potholes. No Toto! This is definitely not Sardinia. No hills and no vineyards. (Unless of course, you count my recycling bin!)
Now while geography helps, it’s not the whole story.
You don’t have to relocate to a hillside in Sardinia or start herding goats in Okinawa to age well. You do have to stop treating your body like it’s a rental car you never plan to return.
Move your body on purpose.
Eat like you have a future.
Sleep like it matters, because it damn sure does.
Stay connected to people who know your stories (and your passwords).
And maybe most importantly, keep a reason to get up in the morning that isn’t just… your bladder.
Because it is possible, at least more possible than we’ve been led to believe, to reach the end of this ride NOT completely wrecked by disease, but simply… finished. Worn out in the way a well-loved book is worn out. Pages softened, spine a little crooked, but the story fully told.
I have a plaque on my bookshelf behind me that says: Motto to Live By
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well-preserved body, but rather skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, wine in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and screaming WOO HOO, what a ride!”
I thought it was funny. I’m not trying to skid in sideways, but I have no issues with the chocolate or the wine. Maybe some cheese in a pocket! Yes, live fully, but all things in moderation! People used to die from old age!
And dying of “old age” isn’t some mythical unicorn. It’s often the result of stacking small, boring, daily decisions in your favor for a very long time. It’s not glamorous. It’s not a detox tea once a quarter. (Although detoxing is necessary!) It’s consistency, community, and a stubborn refusal to give up ownership of your own life.
So yeah, watching friends struggle is hard. It’s sobering. It’s also a flashing neon reminder:
Take care of yourself now, while you still can.
Delay the sequel that is daycare.
Hold onto your independence like it’s the last cookie at a family gathering. (Gotta watch out for that aunt with the baggie!)
Because if this is the full circle of life, we might as well roll through it with a little humor, a little grit, and enough strength to get out of our own chairs without assistance. Maybe even dance.
That, my friends, is the goal.