On Tuesday I turned 25. I always have a lot of thoughts regarding age (likely because I’ve always had a strange relationship with my own) but this landmark has gotten me thinking about it more than usual.
When I say I have a strange relationship to my own age it’s roughly because of these factors:
- I am an only child
- My parents are slightly older than average for the mid-1980s (at my birth my mother was 38 and my father 41) but they have always looked younger than average.
- Until the age of 4 I was surrounded almost exclusively by adults. I knew the odd daughter or son of my parents’ friends, but not extremely well- as we traveled a lot, making close friendships impossible- and didn’t make consistent friends until 4 when I went into school.
- I was always the youngest in my grade (those born in September are usually either the oldest or youngest in their grade, I was put in the next grade up because of my intelligence level at 4 years.) Therefor I always had classmates a full year older than me.
- I didn’t go to college, so school ended for me at 17, and real life began (I moved across the country, learned to pay bills, grocery shop, etc. when most people are moving into dorms).
- I was with a man 16 years my senior for 5 years starting at 18. It wasn’t Lolita-esque. We were completely intellectually compatible despite being from different generations. We looked easily within a couple years of each other age-wise. Etc.
So, that is my background, which provides for me a very skewed perception of age, closer to that which most people develop later in life when age matters less (post 30s, I believe, as most people in their 30s are- ironically- the MOST insensitive and self righteous about age).
I have no real fear about aging as I like the seniority that comes with it, so I’ve been surprised that this birthday has brought about so many thoughts in me. I of course have a deep underlying fear about my career and life-path, but I think that’s completely normal for one’s 20s. Reaching 25 has altered me in some strange ways though. Firstly, my tolerance for people who do not better my life in any way- those people who suck your love and time and give nothing back, or those who don’t see or care what you’re attempting to do in the world- has dropped to zero. I don’t need extraneous responsibilities or extraneous friends. Another thing is that I’ve suddenly gained a huge appreciation for my own life. (Maybe these two things are related- seems to me.) The modern life expectancy for a woman in the US is roughly 80 years. If that’s so, I’m close to 1/3 done with life, and having to face that idea I’ve made myself look back on the last 25 years a little, and have realized in doing so that I’ve had a spectacular life. Have I used every single minute to its greatest advantage? Hell no. Could I possibly be further along at 25? Probably. But in these measly 25 years I have already made myself (and been made by others, in fairness) an extraordinarily interesting person with incredibly interesting experiences. This is a fun thing to realize about yourself, particularly if you’re someone like me who stands up for myself in every situation, but VERY rarely gives myself much credit for anything grand.
Then thinking about life expectancy got me thinking about age and older people. We all think a lot about the fact that the elderly are treated like CRAP in our society. And I have completely realized why. In the Paleolithic era (hunter/gatherer caveman times) life expectancy was 33 years- but that is considering the fucked up infant mortality rate. In fact, if you passed your teenage years, your life expectancy went up to 54. In Britain in the Middle Ages life expectancy was 30. But if you passed age 21, it was 64 years. If you consider that that is only 11 years less than the modern life expectancy of a male, you start to realize that there were obviously some old ass people back then. Just—NOT AS MANY. They were used to the idea of childbirth and infancy being extremely unpredictable and dangerous. Now, when a baby dies, it is a tragedy and completely unfair and horrid. Then, it was not unexpected. There were old people back then, but they were revered and respected because they were a keyhole into the past in a time when the past was much more mysterious. We now have millions of elderly who are more a burden than scholarly.
Reading about this stuff also got me into reading about (and this I’d heard of before) the theory that slowing your metabolic rate could be a way to slow the aging process and allow for MUCH longer lifespans (in theory this is why turtles live so long) which basically means I’m fucked. But also, those semi-comatose vegans are beyond boring and can’t possibly do anything of interest so who wants to live an extra 20 years that way? Not I. I will now end this completely non-linear and likely boring post by saying: Even when I am miserable (and believe me, I’ve been VERY miserable the last two weeks) life is very very good and very very beautiful and in my darkest place inside I never ever forget that.
