I'm turning 60. 6-0.
How is this possible?
When someone asked me recently, how old I felt mentally, I said 17 (since that would allow me a driver's license). She scoffed at my answer, calling it preposterous.
Maybe. I just know that 60—or at least my image of what that means—is equally preposterous.
Of course, what I have now, that I didn't have at 17, is perspective.
Perspective on those big life events like the phone call that a friend my age has died suddenly or developed a disease for which there is no cure. The older we are, the more of those we rack up—they have a way of putting things into the correct frame. As a Financial Life Planner, death, illness and disability are no strangers—but it is much easier to focus on clients' feelings than my own.
So, here I am on the precipice of decrepitude, feeling, well, not 17, but not how I would have expected at 60 either. My mindset is energetic, alive and forward thinking with a zest for learning, living and experiencing MORE.
I've given myself the rah-rah speech about looking forward, feeling good, staying healthy—but I have yet to come to grips with how I feel about the whole getting old thing. Frankly, I'm not loving it.