Do you know when you first started growing old? It was the second you were born.

I often hear my friends say things like, “I’m 40 but I still feel 25 on the inside.” Well, that’s because you are. Soon I’ll be 60, and I’ve lived through 10 Presidents and over twice as many seasons of SVU. But yes, my inner self still feels 20 — and 40, and 30, and ten. Like the rings inside a tree, our lives are composed of all the lives we’ve lived, the things we’ve seen and done, all the people we’ve been. We’re all of them. So, of course, I’m still that vivacious 20-year-old, competent 40-year-old, curious 8-year-old. My body, this girdling bark, isn’t who I am. This tree has seen so many seasons, squirrels and birds. I’ve learned a lot from all my springs and winters, though each new new season delivers surprises. New things to enjoy, new things to withstand. Leaves fall, branches break, but my me-ness still stands.

There’s a reason they call it “growing old”. They don’t call it, “declining old”, or “disintegrating old” or even “sliding old.” Aging, if you do it right, is growing, and we all know you grow up, not down.

Are my mind and body as sharp and strong as they once were? No. Parts of me hurt that I never even knew I had. Do I have the physical energy and abilities I used to? The hormones? The physique, the face? No. Is gravity my friend? NO. Is this part of aging frustrating and sad? YES. Sometimes, really sad. Well, yeah. I’m no Pangloss; I know that, as Bette Davis put it, “Aging isn’t for sissies.” I wish I could still run, squat, zip up my favorite jeans. But this doesn’t have to be aging’s focus.

There are other arrows in aging’s quiver. There is wisdom, perspective and the kind of confidence and peace that only a dwindling amount of fucks to give can give you. I’m determined to cultivate curiosity, build relationships, learn what I can, “grow old” and grow up as much as I can. (OK, I might not grow up so much. Please don’t hold me to that.) But I do hope to stop dreading aging and denying aging and to run toward it instead. (Or, at least walk slowly.)

Dixie Laite

Dixie Laite has been a second-grade teacher and mechanical bull operator, and for the past 25 years she’s worked for a variety of TV networks as a writer, editorial director, trainer, advice columnist, even an on-air personality. But primarily she’s trotted around New York City in one cowboy shirt or another, lurking around flea markets, gyms, and anywhere they’ll hand her French toast. Currently she lounges around her apartment with one husband, one dog, five parrots, and roughly 2,000 pairs of shoes. Dixie is the main lady behind Age Against the Machine, a column about empowering women over 50. Sign up for the Jumble & Flowdown newsletter to stay in the know about Dixie’s latest columns.

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