As I approach 40, I’m embarking on a year-long project to reflect on the lessons I’ve learned in four decades of life. This is lesson #2. You can read the full series here.
A couple of weekends ago, our neighbors hosted a big, joyous birthday party in their big, beautiful backyard. Our newly 50-year-old neighbor — with his job in the music industry and impressive collection of band t-shirts; broad smile and curly gray hair; and large group of friends, who all showed up that day — is, undoubtedly, a young soul.
Reminders of his milestone age were everywhere, from the sweet collage of photos that formed a big 5-0 to the decadent birthday cake, with number-shaped candles perched atop. Attendees seemed acutely aware of their own ages, too. “I just turned 40!” crowed one woman as she hoisted her drink in the air. “Wow, they seem young,” commented another partygoer, observing a group of parents dancing to the band.
For my part, I felt old and young all at once. Talking to our next-door neighbors, both in their 20s, made me feel older but comfortably so — I had wisdom and perspective to share. Reconnecting with a friend I once partied with in my 20s made me feel younger, and somewhat uncomfortably so. Countless things had changed since then. Had I become a different person?
In her brilliant series, The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire,
has interviewed scores of people about their thoughts on aging. The questions are always the same, and the first is simple: “How old are you?”The next question illustrates how slippery age can be: “Is there another age you associate with yourself in your mind?”
Almost always, the interviewee answers yes, they imagine themselves as a different age. Author Elizabeth Gilbert, 54, said, “At my very best moments, I feel like I’m 9 — which was the most free I ever felt in my body and spirit.” Seventy-year-old influencer Lyn Slater said, “I experience my internal age as very fluid, containing all the ages I have ever been.” And psychotherapist Hugh Willard, 58, imagines himself in his mid-40s: “Old enough to know better, young enough to still try.”
Of the most recent 100 respondents, only 121 said they associate themselves as the exact age they were.
Almost everyone you meet perceives themselves as being a different age. This is, perhaps, an obvious statement. A 2023 Atlantic article explored this phenomenon, known as “subjective age,” and many readers responded that they felt seen. Perceiving ourselves as younger or older than our actual age is something that most of us intuitively do.
“It’s bizarre, if you think about it,” Jennifer Senior wrote. “Certainly most of us don’t believe ourselves to be shorter or taller than we actually are. We don’t think of ourselves as having smaller ears or longer noses or curlier hair. Most of us also know where our bodies are in space, what physiologists call ‘proprioception.’”
“Yet,” she continued, “we seem to have an awfully rough go of locating ourselves in time.”
As someone who tends to get anxious in social settings, it makes me feel better to know I’m not the only one feeling a bit unsteady in my own (starting-to-wrinkle) skin. When I look in the mirror, the face peering back at me doesn’t always match the way I feel. This can be a startling realization. Knowing I’m not alone in that experience helps.
The concept of subjective age also warms me to other people. I feel more patient, compassionate, and curious when I consider that the cranky stranger in front of me was once a child — the age in their mind may not line up with the person I see. As a dear friend imparts some tough-love advice, I try to imagine the older version of her — how lucky I am to learn from her wisdom!
Best of all, it feels like a gift. I didn’t know my partner as a young boy, but I delight in the times when Billy’s childlike enthusiasm bursts forth — when I can see who he once was and marvel at who he turned out to be. It’s fun to witness the moments when our 3-year-old imagines herself as a 5- or 6-year-old — “a big, big kid!” And although I never got to see my dad beyond 58, I got plenty of glimpses of the kind of old man he would have been, like when he showed grandfather-like glee around babies or when he took naps, anywhere and everywhere. Those glimpses, of all the ages our loved ones once were and may or may not live to become, are a kind of magic.
A more noble goal — or a higher-self lesson to impart — might be to accept the age you are. The rare Oldster questionnaire respondents who felt their exact age seemed to embody an enviable inner peace. Writer Yi Xue, 58, shared that, “I always like to think that I am forever younger today than tomorrow, this year than next year. I want to live in the present.”
I want to live in the present, too. But that’s something I find exceptionally difficult to do. For better or worse, my brain jumps all over the place — from thought to thought, worry to worry, idea to idea. I imagine I’m not alone in that, either.
I bounce between imagining myself as the fun 20-year-old college student who lived just around the corner from my current home; the 31-year-old widow whose life shattered in an instant; and the 70-year-old me, a more wizened and centered version of myself.
On my best days, I can remember what it was like to be “Kate the Great,” the young child who was brimming with confidence. Sometimes, in the most fleeting and wonderful of moments, I feel exactly the age I am.
We contain multitudes — and those multitudes are represented by all the ages we have ever been and will be. We are matryoshka dolls, carrying the lessons, feelings, burdens, and gifts that come with time. It feels good to toss off those layers every so often, remembering what it was like to be a younger, lighter version of ourselves. And sometimes, it’s nice to add a few layers beyond our years, imagining the people we will become.
Almost everyone you meet perceives themselves as being a different age. What sorcery! What a delight. What a gift.
xoxo KHG
Yes, I went back and checked them all!
Reading this made me notice that I've been leading my life with play more. I think I'm catering to the younger Alyn I wanted to be instead of the one I was. 🥹
Recently in therapy, I was talking through a particular need-to-figure-this-out-asap anxiety, and my therapist gently asked what age this part of me was -- this part so wrapped up in this particular future-based struggle that I don't, in fact, need to yet have sorted out in my life. I, age 43, immediately answered, "65."
On a different date in a different session, I was talking about a different part of myself, a very familiar but challenging part of myself, and she asked a similar question ... how old is it; as in, how long has this challenging-but-adaptive part been with you? 42 of my 43 years. (Oof.)
I don't know how old I feel. But I know it's more complicated than simply feeling my chronological age. So, same, friend. 💫