Carpe Diem and all that: Thoughts from the age of 50
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Last week our Online Editor Erin Cross wrote a personal insight into some of the ways she has changed her thinking since turning 25.
Her column threw me down memory lane, as I once experienced many of the same emotions as Erin. But now I am twice her age, I have some vastly different perspectives on life. Here are a few things I’ve learned.
Use the good plates.
When my mum died I was in my mid-30s. As I cleared out her beautiful home, I came to a heartbreaking realisation. In her kitchen drawers and cupboards, she had been saving things “for good”. A dinner set, cutlery, beautiful crystal glasses and linen tablecloths. I wept as I took her special things to my house. That she had deprived herself of the joys of serving a meal on a beautiful porcelain plate while she was alive broke me. My husband and I decided then and there that we would save nothing for good. We ditched our Ikea dinner set and use our best stuff every day. We serve wine in the crystal. We light the candles. We save nothing for an event or a time which may be just around the corner, focussing instead on living very much on this exact day.
See the band.
That philosophy extends to other aspects of life. Live music? We go. No matter how busy the weeks are and how the demands pile up, we make an effort to get out for as many concerts as we can. Not only does it feel good to support the music industry, but there are few things as visceral as being in an audience in front of a band. From the small 80’s musos that turn up at the Royal in Queanbeyan, to flying off to Coachella to see legends like the the Rolling Stones and Bob Dylan, we have always made music a priority. Now our kids are old enough, we drag them with us (and my son is so much taller than me he had a much better view of the Foo Fighters recently). As Kerouac said: “The only truth is music”.
Drink. Or maybe don’t.
It took me a lot longer than Erin to work out that alcohol is not my friend. I think women reaching 50 often go one of two ways—hurtling towards the bottle to cope with half a century of life, or running in the opposite direction because of how it makes us feel. My decision to quit alcohol more than two years ago was a result of being “uncomfortably attached” to my evening glass of wine, and prone to having “just one more” which often made me regret it the next day. One of the biggest red flags for me was feeling somehow aggrieved when I spoke with non-drinkers. It’s like their sobriety threatened me. It will always be an individual choice, but for me, not drinking makes me feel Just. So. Much. Better.
Say Yes to the scary stuff immediately.
Unlike Erin, who is trying to cut down on the things to which she commits to, I set myself a personal challenge when I turned 40. I determined I would make it a year of saying “yes” to everything – especially the big challenges. I had been petrified as a then newspaper reporter to take on any public role (preferring to stay behind my computer screen) despite a number of invitations. But I realised that the world was passing me by and I could either get out and get amongst it or miss some really golden opportunities. I decided I would have a year of accepting every request and opportunity without giving it a second thought (or giving myself a chance to talk myself out of it). My default was to make the speech, do the TV show, go on radio, MC the event, and to not judge myself too harshly when I saw it played back and I looked and sounded like, well, like a newspaper reporter! I improved, thank God. I started to feel less nervous and now, a decade on*, I can say that I love the thrill of live TV and a good off-the-cuff interview. *Pats 40-year-old self on the back for engaging in an opportunity for personal growth.
Which brings us to the “word of the year”.
At HC headquarters this week, our team settled on an individual word that we each want to focus on this year. Something that the other team members are aware of so we can help keep each other on the straight and narrow. Mine is “boundaries”. I found last year was one where I desperately wanted to protect my time and my energy. From high expectations I put on myself. From people-pleasing tendencies. From my desire to help everyone, all of the time. From putting my hand up even when I don’t want to. From allocating time to people I don’t truly have a strong connection to. And lastly, from insisting on always paying for everyone else’s coffee (seriously, I fight people to whack my credit card down before they can even get theirs out and then feel grumpy that I could have bought an island for the money I have spent shouting everyone else’s coffee). I’m determined to claw back some of that expended energy (and money!).
Money. I could do better. I will do better.
Apart from always insisting I pay for other people’s coffee from some misguided need to appear generous, I could do a lot better at financial regulation. I have been working full-time in journalism since I was 22 years old. And while it is not the best-paid industry out there, I am lucky to have had a stable financial base on which to live my life. But at 50, crikey I wish I’d paid a bit more attention to where I spent it all those earnings. There is a fine line between living for the moment and planning for future enjoyment and I will be the first to admit, I’ve been profligate. My super may be under control, but if I had saved 10 per cent of my earnings from the moment I started earning it, I’d feel so much prouder than I do now. I mean, I do have a nice handbag collection. But still. 2024 is going to be the year I cut down on waste—financial and otherwise.
Friends. The older the better.
Having strong social connections and firm friendships improves your health and wellbeing in incontrovertible ways. While reaching 50 has not been without shedding some friends in sometimes excruciating ways, it is part of life. You take the people you really love with you. You outgrow others. One thing I am aware of is the joy I get from my oldest friends. The childhood friends and uni friends and friends who have known me long enough to recall my first boyfriend or my worst hairstyle. These are the sorts of friends I have been experiencing joy with most recently, not to mention rollicking laughter at shared memories. Old friends are treasures indeed. They are worth investing in and taking with you, always.
On reaching 50 (well actually 52).
It sounds a scary number. Even more so for a woman. But I’m determined to be out and proud about my age. Not all my friends or relatives have made it to 50. What a savage realisation that is. Your 50s is the era where you genuinely change your perspective, caring less about everyone else and more about yourself. There is so much power in that. The older I get, the more trouble I have staying silent on the things which matter to me. I am up for ALL the robust political conversations and my beloved husband bears the brunt of it. Conversely, if I don’t care, I am simply not showing up. Oh yes, I am a whirling tempest of mixed emotions and competing interests. And you can take or leave me!
I hope when Erin gets to my age, she reaches a similar stage of self-confidence. I hope she has kicked some professional goals, given back to her community, loved and been loved, and I have no doubt she will. I hope she has plenty of energy stored to raise a family, if she so chooses, and that she does experience the unconditional love of children (my kids truly are my greatest work). The 25 years between 25 and 50 are going to be the busiest and most challenging of her life. And jeez, raising those said kids sucks you dry in ways you simply can’t explain (but that’s another whole column) …I hope that when Erin gets to 50 she is happy with who she is, proud of what she’s achieved, and looking forward to what is to come. I hope she always eats off the good plates.
Main image: A pic of me on my 52nd birthday in July, in LA, where I had seen plenty of bands, and caught up with one of my oldest friends Matt (who I met in primary school). Photo taken by my 13-year-old daughter (whom I adore). Life is good at this age.
