50+ and Flourishing

Today I turned 57.

I’ve reached the age where I can injure myself… while sleeping. Seriously. Twenty-five-year-old me could go horseback riding, dance all night, sleep on a friend’s floor, and wake up feeling fabulous. Fifty-seven-year-old me sleeps on the “wrong” pillow one night and suddenly needs a heating pad, ibuprofen, and a consultation with my chiropractor. I’ve reached the age where my memory is not what it used to be. A week ago my husband found the chips in the fridge.

Somewhere along the way, birthdays stopped being about getting older and started becoming little reminders of how blessed I am to be here. Do I love every wrinkle? Not exactly. Do I celebrate every gray hair? Let’s not get carried away. But every laugh line tells a story. Every gray hair reminds me I’ve weathered a few storms. Every birthday is a gift that not everyone gets to celebrate.

One thing I have noticed is that my priorities have changed. When I was younger, birthdays meant staying out late. Now? If I’m in my pajamas by 8:00, have a piece of cake, and nobody asks me to cook dinner, I consider that an extravagant celebration. What feels special now?

Fresh flowers.

Clean sheets.

A quiet house.

A good cup of coffee.

A nap that nobody interrupts.

As a hospice nurse, I’ve had the privilege of caring for people whose last birthday was their last birthday. Watching patients face the end of life has taught me something incredibly valuable. Growing older isn’t something to fear. It’s something to appreciate. Yes, our knees creak. Our metabolism has apparently retired without giving notice.

And menopause… well… she deserves her own blog series 😉  {{wink-wink}}

But despite all of that, I wouldn’t trade the wisdom I’ve gained for the smooth skin I had at 27. At 57, I know who I am. I’m less interested in pleasing everyone else and much more interested in protecting my peace. I’ve realized that laughter truly is medicine.

So today, I’m celebrating 57. Not because everything is perfect. I’m celebrating because I’m still growing, still learning, still laughing, and still finding new reasons to flourish.

To every woman reading this who is wondering if life gets smaller with age…

I promise you—it doesn’t. Life gets richer. It gets deeper. It gets more meaningful. And if we’re lucky, it also gets a little funnier.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to enjoy some birthday cake. Because calories consumed on your birthday are simply part of the celebration. At least that’s what I’m telling myself… and at 57, I’ve earned the right to believe it.

Here’s to another year of flourishing.

Happy Birthday to me!