Cheers to 60 years

The loveliest of ladies said to me recently, that turning 60 was the best. You can say anything you want and do what you want. What she was saying is that it's the time in your life when you just shed all the conventions that you've been carrying or observing your whole life and just live way more honestly and lightly.  That you've reached a time in your life where you just know time is too short for fakery or falseness or being afraid of what others might think or say. 

It was an apropos conversation. I had been on the cusp of my 60th birthday for quite some time (well - technically speaking, I've been on the cusp of this birthday for the last 59 years). A year ago, when it was B3's 60th, I planned a big party, with a theme. There would be t-shirts and balloons with said theme stamped on them. Guest list was extensive - an open house - dozens and dozens of people to drop by to wish him happy 60th. And then... you know... COVID. And it was all cancelled. And I thought, what a waste that this outgoing social butterfly should have his birthday cancelled - it should have been my birthday cancelled because all I wanted to do for my 60th was pull the covers over my head and try to ignore that I was turning this epic number. 

My brain was struggling with the number. I could not compute I would be this old. That I was eligible for seniors discounts, for crying out loud! Velcro shoes and my weekly wash and set here I come! Ugh. I managed to ignore the impending Six-Oh for many months (despite the government sending me mail about CPP - which is even more depressing) but the other half - Mr. Funny Man - started doing a vague countdown a few months ago. Only X more months before you turn 60! And then the old gal jokes would begin. As the months and weeks grew closer, increasingly I would hear him singing a chorus of the "Old Grey Mare, she ain't what she used to be". It didn't help my cause when, within a few weeks of each other, I managed to a) fall down the stairs from the top floor to the main (OK - I missed a couple of the bottom steps and did a magnificent face plant in the kitchen), then b) totally misjudged where the top step started and fell (mostly all the way) down the basement steps. Sheesh! A plethora of "acorn stair lift" jokes joined his repertoire  after that. About a month ago, B3 declared to all within ear shot, at our favourite restaurant and weekly Saturday night dinner spot, that I was turning 60! Thanks for broadcasting that dear! So much for keeping that epic birthday number under wraps. Last night he took to doing an hourly countdown. "Only 3 hours and 4 minutes until you're 60!" I got up to pee in the middle of the night (you know, cuz I'm old) and he murmured, "You're 60" then giggled, as I got back into bed. 

I must give him credit. All the teasing, all the lead up, has actually helped pave the way to a less painless birthday. 

But I think there have been a couple other small, but significant realizations recently that have helped me shed (miraculously) some of those conventions I have previously referred to. 

The first one was a Ted Talk by Anne Lamott. 12 Truths I've Learned. It's a delight. Listen to it. Multiple times. Among other things it reminded me that I'm not in control of anything or anyone but myself. And maybe not even me. 

This video was followed, not long after, by a visit to the doctor. Because I have no patience for these silly "virtual" appointments with your doctor I have been going to a walk-in clinic for the past year. And to my astonishment, when I walked in, the doctor on call that morning was one of the owners of the clinic and a friend. We had a lovely catch up chat before I told him why I was there. Renew a prescription. Easy. But, I said, I also want your advice on how to reduce the dosage. You see, I had it in my head, that since I was on the maximum dosage, and that I no longer needed to be on the maximum dosage, why should I BE on the maximum dosage? Therefore... I needed to wean myself down to a medium dosage. In my head this made perfect sense. He asked if the medication was still working? Yes. Are you having any side effects? No. "Then why fix something that's working?" I laughed out loud. As always, his impeccable reasonableness left me with no good answer. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. 

The weird part was his question: why fix something that's working? also applied to the inverse. If somethings not working, and I've tried to fix it with no success - maybe I'm not the one who can fix it. (This is where the Anne Lamott video intersected). "If it's someone's else's problem, you probably don't have the answer anyway". Bottom line. I need to stop fixing. Period.

In the midst of all these tiny moments of clarity, I decided (again) that I had to stop letting fear make my decisions. And that as unconventional and incomprehensible as it may seem, I had to release people and situations that kept their foot on my throat. 

Clarity and common sense have beckoned me into my 60s. As have friends who sent me birthday wishes and early morning phone calls over coffee. Mimosa's and flower deliveries. Fires in the fireplace and celebration dinners at our favourite restaurant. Old people jokes from the moment I walked (not fell) down the stairs. 

60 is starting off way better than I had imagined. I still can't reconcile that number in my head with how I feel. As I told a girlfriend who's turn it will be in just under 4 weeks, for some reason I could stay 59 for quite some time and feel just fine about it. But here I am, embracing it all and I can't help think that it's helped me veer off in a new direction - a new adventure - another new beginning.