Allow me to let you in on a secret that seems to escape a lot of members of our youth-obsessed culture – being middle-aged is a heap more fun than being young.
Granted, I am speaking from my own experience. Granted, too, that I have been fortunate. Clean water, clean air, food on the table, freedom of speech and all those things that half the world doesn’t have. Add to that a husband who still lights me up after all these years and who seems happy to stick around, and an abundance of affectionate kids. And health – which I hope I never ever take for granted.
So, given that I am a 53-year-old who has so far escaped some of life’s most painful disasters, I maintain that everything is one hundred per cent better than it was in my teens, twenties, thirties and forties. You young ones – stop dreading middle age. It’s fabulous.
What’s so good about it? Where do I start? Maybe with happiness. There is so much baggage to sort when you are growing up. So many insecurities. By the time you are fifty, if you have put some hard work into addressing your issues, you start to reap the benefits. As a younger woman I suffered quite badly from depression; these days I wake in the morning and feel a deep surge of gratitude for simple contentment, for freedom from the blackness which blighted so many of my days in years gone by.
Ditto with relationships. If you are lucky enough to have a half way decent partner, things can only get better. You are kinder to them, you are gentler on yourself. I look back at some of the conflicts my husband and I have dealt with over the years, not to mention the exhaustion we have endured and I feel as if we are now in a safe, calm harbour, one in which there is a lot of laughter.
Exhaustion brings me to babies, toddlers and teenagers. Wonderful creatures and I would not give up many minutes of their earlier years, but by golly I am glad they are all grown up now. I am no longer responsible for them. I love their company; they seem to like mine. They bring delightful partners into the family and do things that I never would have anticipated. They are just themselves – so different from each other and from their parents, but with that basic family bond intact. In my fifties, I feel I have the relationship with my husband, children and family of origin that I always wanted. Other relationships are easier too – I am less defensive and competitive with long-standing friends, more open to new relationships with people I wouldn’t have expected to click with as a younger woman.
Health. Okay, so there have been more tests and accidents and trips to hospital in the last three years than ever before. But, just as you reap the benefits of the hard work you have put into your kids all these years, you also realise why you have kept fit and lived sensibly. It pays off.
Many people in their fifties have worked out what they love doing and have become better at doing it. They may be lucky enough to be recognised, appreciated, maybe even paid for it.
Speaking of pay – there’s another thing that is easier now. For many years of my adult life, as we fed and sheltered six people on one not especially princely salary, there was no money in the bank at the end of each fortnight. It didn’t seem to matter much; I’ve never yearned for big bucks and I’m not interested in acquiring ‘stuff’. But now that we do have a bit more, I revel in being able to go out for a meal more than once a year, have coffees several times a week, buy new socks when I need to and be able to offer to shout friends and kids to things without feeling resentful or panic stricken.
Maybe the nicest thing I’ve found about being in my fifties is that I no longer feel that I have to set everybody right, bring them round to my way of looking at the world. For a natural born control freak, this is incredibly liberating. In fact I have been known to say that the secret to happiness is to stop trying to control everything.
Basically, as you get older, all the important stuff – namely relationships and creativity – get better. And you realise the rest doesn’t matter much.