Giving up on Someday

or how I learned to love aging

I always thought I would be someone who aged gracefully whatever the hell that means but then, who doesn’t think that when they’re young? Aging is abstract until you’re on a Zoom call waiting for a client and lifting your neck with your fingers. Then aging is a reality that you can’t deny.

Wait, that’s not true. You can deny you’re aging and are going to die. Lots of people do. But you don’t want to. Because to deny your finitude is to believe you have all the time in the world. Fall for that lie and nothing is not too late until everything is.

I used to believe that I had all the time in the world. “Someday” was my mantra. God, I wasted so much time. And then the regrets over wasting time threatened to steal all the beauty that was my life.

Someday started to fall away when my beloved dad died when I was 44 and my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s a few years later. She was only 71. Losing two friends my age certainly shook my someday. My friend Rhonda called to say goodbye — I didn’t even know she was sick, it happened so fast. She said, “I’m not ready, I have so many more things to do.”

But the final kick in someday’s ass came when I got married at 50 and realized that no matter how much time we had together, it would not be enough.

Bob and I on Inishmore island this summer on a windy golden evening.

Or maybe it was writing my last book Why Bother? and facing my toxic habit of regret, and trying to take what I learned and turn into something helpful to others.

I turned 61 last week. That number is impossible for me to grasp - wait, I’m still 9! I’m on a walk with my dog and I’m pretending we live in Middle Earth but even though it feels weird, being 61 doesn’t make it pretend there are a lot of somedays left. It only makes me incredibly grateful. I finally loving aging. That’s a big win for this Enneagram 4.

I made a list to help me continue to stay out of someday, a reminder to stay awake.

Jen’s It’s Not Too Late List:

It’s not too late to stop blasting through life to arrive at Done — a destination that doesn’t exist and would be a terribly boring place to live if it did.

It’s not too late to leave my ancient shame of having a different kind of brain and feeling like a perpetual screw-up on the altar of self-love.

It’s not too late to karaoke This is Me louder than the judgemental voice in my head that likes to screech I am stupid and should never write another word because who needs my voice in the world?

It’s not too late to choose with reverence where I put my attention and how I spend my time.

It’s not too late to frolic like a unicorn wearing a tiara while saving the world aka have fun writing my novel.

It’s not too late to give up wanting to be seen as better or kinder or anything other than who I am.

It’s not too late to reach out to old friends who I’m sure hate me for some mysterious reason.

It’s not too late to love myself for always trying so hard.

It’s not too late to take in the good I’ve done in the world and do more, to find my voice in the climate change space.

And it’s never too late to be here for it all.

I’d love to know an item or two on your list. If you care to, share in the comments.