I celebrated my 60th birthday last year. It was almost exactly six months ago now at the end of June and up until that point, I had been confident that it was just another milestone and not much would change. In order to acclimatise myself I decided to finish my sixth decade in style and be open and honest about my age. It was part social experiment to see how people would react in this age-conscious appearance-obsessed society and partly a way of accepting another stage of my life.
Then this week Carrie Fisher died aged just 60. She was the shining Princess Leia who inspired my generation and beyond with her strength, humour and beauty, not to be upstaged by a light saber and a bad hairdo. Let me emphasis that Carrie was just 60 because this really is only half a life by today’s standards as life expectancy in western society is far greater. Many of us ‘start over’ in middle age and are a million light years away from retirement with new goals and unfulfilled ambitions.
What we can’t predict is how our bodies will cope with being upright against the force of the earth’s gravity for 60 years – the human body is a complex piece of machinery with built in obsolescence. Some parts can now be replaced with valves, titanium joints and donated organs and even though medical science is amazing we don’t know when the engine will stop running.
My own father died of a heart attack at 69 – he didn’t look or act his age but he harboured a hidden disability that contributed to his early demise. In my father’s case it was the strain of keeping his mental health issues contained under the veneer of masculinity that contributed to his heart giving out. I now understand that the soaring emotional states and the crazy manic behaviour that made my father so charismatic, were part of a condition that led to his untimely death.
Now six months on from my 60th birthday celebrations I am working off another inexplicable bout of anxiety. This could have been triggered by the inordinate number of deaths in 2016 of brilliant and creative people who seemingly had the world at their feet, from David Bowie aged 69 to George Michael 53, Victoria Wood 63 to Caroline Aherne 52. Maybe it is this sense of mortality – that life really is very short and sweet – that switched on the loop in my brain that prevents a good night’s rest and peace of mind.
My solution is to literally write it off. To write is to process the thoughts that make living hard. I am blessed and privileged with my family and friends and over the years they have allowed me to be open and honest about what goes on in my brain. As I have got older it has got easier because it uses those unseen ‘muscles’ that do not require physical exertion to exercise them. Meditation, mindfulness and talking therapies make good sense and fill the void that threatens to consume so many of us. It’s like dealing with an internal black hole, a space that sucks us in until we can resist it no more.
So I worked very hard to avoid the blackness last year and concentrating on what being 60 means both internally and externally has been an enlightening and challenging journey. On the bad side, society does make assumptions and judges you as an older woman. Dealing with changes in our appearance are difficult enough and I was shocked when I was told recently that I didn’t sound 60! Did David Bowie ever sound 60?! What the hell are we meant to sound like, look like, feel like?
I am up for a world that judges people on their capabilities and energy rather than one of little boxes and ‘age brackets’. I have known people in their 20s who have the mindset of 80 year olds and vice versa. Nothing is certain so we only have ourselves to blame for a life less lived.
I am so fortunate to be surrounded by brilliant talented clever friends and family and proud that I have created Funny Women as a place to develop and celebrate all that is fabulous and funny about women. I may not be on stage myself but I love my role in the wings and want to share more about what goes on behind the scenes as well as some of the incredible knowledge and information I have collected along the way.
So now that I am genuinely and irrevocably six months into my 60s, it’s time to take things to the next level. Watch this space for more jottings and a new website coming soon… In the meantime let’s live our lives for all those who lost theirs in in 2016.
Happy New Year.
