In the year or so since I’ve been writing this blog, a few things have happened. I’ve turned 50*. I’ve kept it quiet. And I’ve started to get used to the idea.
Being in your fifties is definitely something that takes getting used to. But when you do, it’s not that bad. There are times when it feels like freedom.
The past decade has been interesting experience. There’s a lot of difference between being 40 and being 45. Being 45 did feel like a turning point. I wouldn’t quite say it’s all downhill from there but you start to realise you look different, and you know you creak more. After 45, you can’t pass as ‘young’ so easily. By the time you get to 50, that doesn’t seem to matter so much.
It’s a different sort of turning point, more mental than physical. And mostly positive. I read somewhere recently that 50 year olds are ‘complacent’. I hope I’m not. I might have the occasional ‘I did it my way’ moment but that’s down to relief as much as anything. I wouldn’t dare to be smug. I know this freedom won’t last; I know that the older you get, the more scope there is for bad stuff to happen. But I’m going to enjoy it while I can.
*I also turned 51.