#26: Why Would Anyone feel sad on their birthday?

Ageism stinks

Didn’t you say you’d write about your birthday? my beloved asked.

Nah, some other time, I said, batting my own weeks-old idea away like a pesky fly.

If I drag my feet to write a post, it can be either the sign of a weak, boring idea, or a hint that I’ve put my finger on a bothersome spot that deserves exploration.

I hope today’s the latter.

Photo by RODOLFO BARRETO on Unsplash

I turned 40 last month. I feel uncomfortable writing this out loud, and I feel ashamed of my discomfort.

Everybody will know I am old!

I’m an ageist fool.

40 is as fine an age as is 39 or 41 or 5 or 85.5 (which is the life expectancy at birth for women in my home country: I’m about two years away from official middle age).

On my birthday, most of my family was reunited. I took a moment to celebrate the privilege of being surrounded by people I love in the middle of a pandemic. We ate tasty food; I blew out two candles and received thoughtful gifts. I received kind messages. I hugged my kids and their dad. (I didn’t really hug anyone else, because COVID.)

It was perfectly lovely.

And yet, that day—that week, really—I felt diffusely, ungratefully sad, like I’m not where I should be, or where I thought I’d be at that age. (In contrast, my son spent the weeks before and after his birthday rejoicing about the passage of time and all its promises. His one request was that we throw confetti.)

Photo by Chris Barbalis on Unsplash

We’ve been bathing in ageism forever. I, for one, was fed a steady diet of images of what a woman of a certain age looks like. She has kids—her first by Age X, her last by Age Y. At 40, she’s confident but not bossy. She owns property! She has a worthy career! She devotes ample time to her family and to her age-appropriate hobbies, because she’s a well-rounded person!

She also dresses in a tasteful, age-appropriate way. She cares for her body to stave off its inevitable decline. She might make an apologetic joke about her eyesight. She has a few wrinkles around her eyes and she feels flattered when someone says: Oh I thought you were 36 tops! She is pretty for her age.

I find myself comparing my appearance and outward achievements to that imaginary standard, and to others (friends, Cate Blanchett, people I don’t know). If their timeline appears close to mine, I feel vindicated and connected to the great circle of life! Otherwise, I might feel deflated and petty for a moment.

Photo by Martin Reisch on Unsplash

When I catch myself measuring my life on the age scale instead of my own, I ask myself who set those goalposts. Are those my values and priorities, or is it the outside clock ticking? As years go by, I do have an easier time sorting what I desire from what other people expect of me.

Moving closer to death does that.

Seeking to conform to an arbitrary schedule; spending time bemoaning the line of worry etched between my eyebrows; pitting young against old—pitting any one group against another: I know that all of that distracts me, us, from what we truly want, and from the battles we should fight together.

And yet I still feel sad on perfectly lovely days.

If this happens to you, too, may I suggest:

• This post by Emma Kernahan at Crappy Living: How To Look Good At Forty And Overthrow Your Government.

I’ve tried to pick a paragraph to quote and decided against it. Excerpts don’t do justice to this piece. It’s a hilarious jewel.

• Ashton Applewhite’s book This Chair Rocks, an illuminating and invigorating manifesto against ageism. And this piece she wrote in 2017 for the New York Times: Working to Disarm Women’s Anti-Aging Demon:

“How much of our youth do we squander worrying about not being young any more? Why do we buy into the notion that our so-called prime evaporates along with our reproductive usefulness — if not before — despite all the evidence to the contrary? Having friends of all ages makes it easier to step off the hamster wheel of age denial, share power, and think and act in pro-aging ways. […] We can turn it from a conversation about scarcity and loss to one about empowerment and equity.”

• This joyful Q&A with 51-year-old scientist and writer Madhushree Ghosh, and other essays and interviews published by Oldster, a Substack newsletter about age and ageing edited by Sari Botton:

“I think I’ve become a bigger smartass with my attitude! I don’t look to others for praise, validation or joy.”

“I love birthdays; it’s the only day YOU were born. I also add that it’s the only day your mother birthed you, and a bond you have with your parents. […] As long as I am here on earth, they will be celebrated and my birthday is one of those days.”