In about a month, I will be turning fifty. As I look back I remember how I thought I was already too old to wear shorts, now, I am wearing them and I’m not worried whether I’m too old or what people might think or say. I’m pretty sure nobody is going to come and tell me to my face I’m too old for them, and if this happens I will surely laugh it off.
I’ve reached that state I always longed for and that I just couldn’t for the life of me give up; caring about what people thought. Now, I am finally free, I’ve actually freed myself from comparing myself to others, from the need to be liked and accepted. Now, it’s my time. Out of self-respect, I wear, do, say, act as I want.
It’s been such a long journey to get here. It’s taken many falls, lots of self-loathing and “a death” to kick my butt and come to this awareness that nothing but life is that important, that being angry at someone, at yourself, at the world is not worth it. I now live according to my standards and will spend time doing what I like, which is mostly spending time with the people I love, doing things I enjoy and taking jobs that make me happy, paid or unpaid. I have no time to waste on petty things.
Of course, just as I never imagined turning thirty or forty, fifty was unfathomable. Youth believes that older people are from a different species, well, no. We may age physically, but our inside sometimes takes longer to adjust. That might be why we look in the mirror and can’t recognize ourselves.
At almost fifty, as my good friend Franck said: “Now I don’t live for my future, I live from my past.” Meaning, he is enjoying the now with all he has experienced. The future holds less value, the now is what is relevant, and having a deeper understanding of life, the enjoyment is tenfold.
At fifty I’ve reached my destination. I am who I always wanted to be.