Growing Older is Mandatory. Growing Dull is Optional

When I say growing dull is optional, I’m not talking about slowing down, enjoying a quiet life, or facing circumstances that limit what we can do. I mean losing our curiosity, our sense of humor, and our willingness to find something worth looking forward to.

When I was a kid, I couldn’t imagine being as old as I am now. I’m 83, a grand old lady, whatever that is. I don’t feel the way I thought elderly people might feel. Inside, I’m still Donna. I like to laugh and joke around with people I know well. I can be spontaneous, and I like to think I can still work as hard as anyone.

My birth certificate says I arrived in 1943, and the calendar on my wall insists it’s 2026. I’m pretty good at arithmetic, so I can’t argue with the numbers. And the face in the mirror certainly provides supporting evidence! But if I squint just right, I can still see that eighteen-year-old girl, ready to take on the world. When I open my eyes, I see a woman whose face and body bear the evidence of eight decades of living.

I know I have limitations, but I refuse to let them write my entire story.

I get tired. By three in the afternoon, I’m ready to call it a day. By seven in the evening, I’m ready to start another one. And at three in the morning, my brain often decides it’s time to hold a committee meeting.

Apparently, nobody told my body and my mind they’re supposed to be working the same shift.

Sometimes I get up and write a few thoughts in my notebook, read a couple of chapters, or crochet a few rows until my mind settles down. I’ve learned to work with my body’s schedule instead of constantly fighting it.

And every once in a while, I remind those limitations, “Listen here. You may have a say in what I can do, but you don’t get to write my whole story!”

I know people out there with serious challenges, and not everyone has the same health, energy, resources, or opportunities.  I know of people whose challenges cause tears, procedures, hospital stays, and even homebound seclusion. Aches, pains, doctor appointments, and health concerns are a real part of growing older. I’ve collected a few myself, and I care for my husband.

I hope I always recognize when someone’s life is difficult and they just need a listening ear. I want to be that compassionate friend. But I don’t want those things to become the entire subject of my life. There’s still too much to discover, too much to laugh about, and too much to look forward to. I hope I recognize the danger of letting my conversations, interests, and identities shrink until there is little room for anything else.

I don’t mind talking about what’s wrong. I don’t want to forget to talk about what’s right.

Let’s think about a two-year-old you might know. It might be a boy, might be a girl. You have them by the hand and take them to the park. It’s a short walk, but it takes a very long time because they have to investigate every blossom, every bug, every bird, every shiny thing that catches their curiosity. Here is a wonderful fact. Curiosity doesn’t have an expiration date. Stay curious; stay interested in the world beyond the discouraging and often ugly bounds of the daily news.

We live in a wonderful age. Think about what has happened in our lifetimes.

We’ve gone from party lines and rotary-dial telephones to push-button phones, flip phones, and smartphones. We used to go to the library to find information about history, or maybe our parents bought a set of encyclopedias updated each year with a ‘Yearbook.’ Now, we open our phones, ask Google, and get a one-page summary. Often, I find myself saying, ‘I wonder.’ I don’t have to wonder about anything. Answers to more questions than I ever imagined are in the palm of my hand.

I enjoy technology, and the more I ‘play’ with it, the more I enjoy it, and it drives me a good kind of crazy. It fuels my curiosity. And here’s some good information: ‘You don’t have to be good at something to enjoy learning it.’ I may not know everything about today’s world, but I’m not finished asking questions about it. Be brave and learn something new.

I believe that anticipation keeps life interesting.   

For most of our lives, we’ve had something on the horizon. Graduation, a first job, marriage, children, vacations, and eventually retirement. But what happens when we’ve reached those milestones? Does anticipation end?

I don’t believe it should. Perhaps retirement is simply when we stop following somebody else’s timetable and start creating our own things to look forward to.

One of the really important things about life for anyone, no matter age, is not to misplace your sense of humor. Be ready to laugh at yourself and find amusement in everyday situations. Be careful not to let every inconvenience become a catastrophe. And the next time my 3 a.m. brain starts doing jumping jacks, I’ll challenge it to a duel.

I can’t stop the wrinkles, so I might as well make sure a few of them come from laughing.

Sometimes I just want a peaceful life. I’m perfectly content with a good book, digging in the garden, or sitting on the porch watching the birds. I don’t have to be constantly busy to be interested in living.

But I do want to keep a little of that curious two-year-old within me—the one who notices the blossoms, the bugs, the birds, and the shiny things along the way.

I hope I never lose my curiosity, my gratitude, or my willingness to discover what might be waiting around the next corner.

I can’t do much about the number of candles on my birthday cake, but I still have something to say about how brightly I intend to live.

I don’t expect to stay young. I don’t even expect to stay energetic. But as long as I’m here, I intend to stay interested.

There’s a whole lot of living left to do, even if some of it has to wait until after my afternoon nap.

I’ve grown older, but I haven’t finished becoming who I am.

I’m still a work in progress.