(image by Gemma Correll)
They can be weird or scary, the ones that end with a zero. A marker of time elapsed. Measurements of progress. And most certainly with this zero, a complete trip...perplexed by how the number is real. I certainly don't feel...fifty. I blinked somewhere in my twenties and ended up at five and zero.
I've been watching my peers post photos on social media, as they reached this milestone. They were all partying or talking of travel to mark the occasion. For months I'd been debating whether to have a shin-dig or run for the hills. I had finally made a decision when COVID19 forced everyone into lockdown and plans I had were now firmly thrown out the window.
I've had the week off work and being the nostalgic fool I am, went looking through my old photos. It seems I never went anywhere without a camera in my hand. This is now replaced by my phone, of course. I watched myself grow up and looked into eyes knowing the thoughts that were going on behind them. I can't believe how incredibly hard I was on myself. How critical I was. I could have told you every single thing that was 'wrong' about me through my teens and twenties. Bad skin, weird nose, big thighs, hair that just wouldn't do what I wanted it to. So shy I could only speak to a close group of friends. Small talk with people I didn't know was excruciating. I was terrified and dry mouthed, trying my best to blend into the background and stay under the radar. The reality is that it just took time for me to grow into my features, to become comfortable with being different.
Looking back makes me a little sad as I just wish I saw myself than as I do looking back at the photos. I never learned to see the good things about myself until much, much later. In the photos are friends and partners from the past. People who were so significant for a chunk of this journey. I realise now that some also fed those feelings that I wasn't enough. They saw the flaws in me and made comments, reinforcing my belief. It took a while to move on from these people.
I've described that experience as peeling layers of an onion. Stripping away the baggage slowly over time. Some relationships were like a jacket I put on at one age. Years later the jacket just didn't fit right anymore. Making me feel restricted, uncomfortable and unable to breathe. As the jacket came off my lungs opened and arms stretched. I had the unrestricted space to be me.
The photos also showed me amazing beautiful people who have been incredible supporters. Gigs, parties, camping, beaches, adventures. I feel that I have learned a really great skill. summed up by a quote I came across the other day 'What you water is what you grow'. I feel lucky to be surrounded by people who lift me up, and love me as I am. It's kinda the nice thing about getting to a birthday that ends with a zero and particularly one I've experienced in lockdown. I've had some incredibly lovely messages and felt touched by kind words. I hope that I help lift people up as they have lifted me. And of course I celebrated the day with my delightful husband, who is an unwavering one-person cheer squad.
So, is 50 what I expected? Not really. When I was a kid, middle aged women all had short permed hair, wore overshirts and 3/4 pants. I know those people are still out there. But I look around and see that aging can be different. The people I watched, read and listened to growing up are aging with me. Kathleen Hanna, Neneh Cherry, Mike D and Ad-rock, Jarvis Cocker, Damon Albarn, Evan Dando, Johnny Mar, Nigella Lawson, Gillian Anderson. There are artists in their late forties and also in their 60s who are creative, inspiring and still being true to themselves. There is pressure to view the zero birthdays as a benchmark opportunity. Have I achieved what is expected by this age? Perhaps the nice thing is that as you get older you can decide what the goal posts are. Sure, I could have travelled more, saved more, had kids, progressed more in work or study. But I feel like I have reached 50 surrounded by healthy relationships (including the one with myself) and the roadmap for the way forward can look like whatever I want it to. Not defined by comparison, but shaped by happiness and kindness.
I've felt weird for a while saying Fifty. It seemed like a huge number. Not one that I was comfortable with. But now that the day has passed I look in the mirror and see that this age can mean tight black jeans, converse sneakers, two-coloured dyed hair and a tattoo appointment booked for when lockdown restrictions ease. 50 can look like me.
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