*This week’s About Time newsletter is written by Kaity Velez. Check in next time for writing by Jessica Pallay. In July and August we donated 30% of our subscription fees to Black Mamas Matter. Thank you! For September and October we’ll being donating 30% to Lilith Fund, a non-profit organization that provides financial assistance and emotional support while building community spaces for people who need abortions in #Texas.
The other morning I woke up, got out of bed with only a slight pull in my lower back, and made my way to the bathroom. As I glanced in the mirror, I noticed something striking in my reflection. It was a white-as-paper hair sticking up at an aggressive angle. It somehow stood taller than all the other hairs and looked extra buff, taunting me.
Now, I’ve had white hairs before, but somehow they’re always long before I notice them and even though the texture is different than my dark brown strands, I’ve chosen to take a “let’s see what happens” approach with them.
But, this strand in particular was not fucking around. It said “I will not be silenced! I will not be ignored!”
My 9-year-old, who walked in right as me and ze hair were having a staredown, yelled, “Pluck it! It’s terrifying!” Battle time. I told him to get the hell out of the bathroom and contemplated my next move. I smoothed it down with a touch of styling cream and decided against plucking just as I had with “the others.” This getting older thing is an experiment after all.
While most days I actually don’t feel very different than I did in my 20s, other than being substantially more sober and substantially more exhausted, it turns out that I am in fact aging. And although we have much heavier things to obsess about at this moment, you know like women’s rights being taken away in our very own country(!), a global climate emergency and an Afghan refugee crisis, our bodies can’t resist snapping us back into our own reality with an age-check from time to time.
Like earlier this year, when my back went out to the point that sitting, standing and sleeping were all equally excruciating, and when I noticed that those “smile lines” around my mouth got deeper overnight. A wake up call that I am aging after all.
Each time, my body tries to tell me, “Just take a fucking minute. You’re not 25 anymore,” I say “psssshh, you’re fine.” Many days I look in the mirror and think “I don’t look that much older.” And then I see an actual 25 year old and I’m like “Holy shit, she’s a baby!” and quickly remember that I am not. It’s not that I think being younger is superior, but I like to ignore the fact that I’m decades closer to death.
Ironically, when I was in my 20s, I obsessed much more about aging and wrinkles and grey hairs than I do now. I used anti-aging creams, went for regular facials, and allowed myself long stretches of restorative sleep that were only interrupted by work and brunch. I try to remember this when I’m deep in the Instagram vortex and about to get judgey while watching people get Botox at 29 and proclaiming they’re the last of their friends to get injected.
Up until recently what I’ve mostly done is forget that I’m getting older, then get a reminder from my body, ignore that signal until I get a more aggressive signal (ie my pulled back), freak out, change all my life habits to healthy ones, get busy and lose sight of those healthy habits, and then repeat.
The age check-ins are becoming more frequent these days and have me searching for small, sustainable acts of age-related self-care. Like putting collagen in my coffee each morning despite me not being fully convinced that it’s actually doing something. It may be helping with my joints, it may not. It may be helping with skin elasticity, it may not. But I do know Jennifer Aniston told me (via facebook ads) that I should take it so I will.
My collagen habit is a nice daily reminder that I’m doing something for me and gives me pause to think about all the other good things I can -- and should! -- be doing for my body. I’ve discovered that a little movement and meditation are non-negotiables, and when I don’t do them for a while, I’m a tiny less kind to those around me.
As I get older, I’m learning to be less judgmental on how people handle their own aging process. This life thing is hard! Instead, I’m paying attention to my own age reminders sooner than later and showing my body the love it deserves, whether that’s in the form of meditation or a donut. Aging gracefully looks different to each of us and even that may look different on any given day. And that’s OK, because we’re grown ups. We can do what we want.
Are you experiencing age check-ins? Which have been the most obvious? How do you navigate them? Or do you avoid them? Also, how’s your week going? It’s been rough out there!
(intro image via @emilymurnane)