Entering my 50s hasn’t been fun! It’s that simple. The big five-oh didn’t meet my expectations despite my efforts to make it dreamy. For my 50th birthday, I planned a trip to Greece and my actual birthday was a brilliant sea and land adventure on a beautiful island called Naxos. Let’s not forget that it was also a culinary paradise. But as much as I tried to get myself excited for the new decade, unfortunately outside my trip to Greece, it’s been a struggle.

I tried to be a good feminist and embrace all the signs of aging, but I just need to say it – I freaking hate it! And I’m done pretending especially to myself. It’s time to drop the act. Suffering happens when we’re out of alignment with our truth and there has been something cathartic about admitting to myself that I don’t like aging. It’s like a mini liberation, like giving myself a big, warm hug.

And yet my truth of not loving the aging process does not invalidate my general sense of satisfaction and happiness I feel throughout my days. It doesn’t mean I’m not rocking life! I’m embracing the duality that I can do both – dislike the aging process and everything that comes with menopause and also love the freedom I’ve been feeling more than ever before.

Freedom of what you might ask? How about not caring what others think of me and being free of perceived and real judgments?

On a recent Thursday night, I was returning home rather late. Yes, 11 pm for me is nearly equivalent to staying out all night when I was in my 20s. Generally, my ideal evening involves being in bed and ready to dive into my latest favorite read by 9 pm! But on this particular evening while trying to catch a path train from the village in NYC to Hoboken in NJ, I encountered a bit of a metrocard dilemma. My card only had about $1.75 and the two metro card dispensing machines at the stations were out of order. So what is a woman to do? Not look for other stations at this point of the evening! I looked around and considered my options and jumping the turnstile seemed the most viable. I didn’t hesitate. I opened my long jacket, positioned myself as best as I could and jumped over. Something happened right after, yes a twinge in my back that later became more painful for sure, but more fun than that was the extra pep in my step. I still got it - I thought. 

 Getting older means making decisions quicker and caring a whole lot less about what others think. It’s like shedding that heavy coat of societal expectations and strutting around in your own skin, flaws and all. The train platform may have been packed and yet it didn’t even cross my mind to look around and search for disapproving glances. I just didn’t care. I did what I had to do to get home and nothing else really mattered and that’s the freedom I’m talking about.

So what does freedom look like to you as you move through your own aging process?

By Sylwia Gargle Qasim