The advantage of growing older

Fernard Fonssagrives "Nip Up" Lisa Fonssagrives Penn. Silvergelatin

There’s so much talk about aging as something we’re supposed to fight. We should “stay young,” “stay fresh,” and preferably pretend that time doesn’t touch us. But perhaps aging is actually our greatest freedom. Because somewhere along the way, something liberating happens. It comes quietly, around the same time you start reading the shampoo bottle with your arms fully stretched out. By then you suddenly realize that you’ve stopped caring so damn much. And I don’t mean that youthful, careless “whatever” kind of not caring. No, I mean the deep, mature kind. The kind that comes after years of trying to be everything for everyone, and finally says, “You know what? That’s enough.”That’s a special kind of relief. You stop caring. For real.

When you were younger, you worried about so much. What people thought, how you looked, whether you had the right clothes, the right kind of coffee in your hand. Now? You drink the coffee you like, preferably sitting somewhere peaceful, and without posting it on Instagram. And if someone thinks you’re a bit old-fashioned, a bit boring, or a bit too much… well, that’s their problem. I no longer have to pretend that every event is fun. I no longer keep up with what’s “in” on social media. I don’t understand what all the cool abbreviations mean or why someone is dancing for 15 seconds to a song that sounds like a buzzing fly on TikTok. And I’m not going to Google it either. You don’t even have to pretend anymore. You can just say, “I don’t understand, and I don’t care.” And it feels like stepping into a warm bath of freedom.

You learn to appreciate the simple things. A modest lunch at our little village restaurant beats any trendy brunch with avocado toast and glitter lattes. An evening at home on the couch with a blanket and something on TV you may have already seen, that’s luxury. You no longer need to prove that you live an exciting life. You know that you do, in your own way.

People might think aging is about losing things; energy, beauty, memory. But I think it’s really about letting go of what you no longer need. Like stress. And high heels, trends, and people who always need to be right. Another gift of aging is that you finally begin to understand time. When you were younger, you thought time was something you could save, chase, or catch up with. Now you know: time is something you use. And the best way to use it is by not rushing through it. There’s something almost poetic about how time, the thing you once ran from, eventually becomes your best friend. I’ve stopped chasing it, and started inviting it in instead.“Sit down, time,” I say. “Have a cup of coffee with me. We’ve got plenty of time.” When you stop chasing, you start using time for real. I say “yes” more often to people I love, and “no” to things that only feel like obligations. I’ve realized that a “no” can be an act of self-love.

I’ve completely stopped pretending to enjoy big dinners with “casual acquaintances.” I’d much rather have a long lunch with a good friend and too much wine. There’s something about getting older that helps you understand the difference between being busy and being alive. Aging has this strange ability to clear away the unnecessary. You realize that much of what you once stressed about was… well, just noise. It’s like going from a loud concert to a quiet lake. You can finally hear yourself again. And that voice, it’s wiser now. It says things like, “It’ll be fine.” “It’s not that important.”And you realize that the little word “sorry” is much bigger, and more healing, than you once thought. It can make the difference between friendship and conflict. All over the world.

When you were younger, life was about keeping up. Building a career, working out, being social, ambitious, impressive. There’s something beautiful about letting go of achievement, about realizing that life doesn’t have to be perfect to be wonderful. It can be a little wrinkled, a little crooked, a little too much sometimes. That’s where the charm lives. In the cracks, in the unfiltered moments, in the things that simply are. So no, I don’t long to go back. I don’t miss being young and confused, stressed, and constantly chasing something better. And actually, it doesn’t feel like time slips away anymore. It becomes richer. It gains flavor. Like a wine that’s been left to rest a little too long, but tastes all the better for it.

Sure, the body might be a bit slower, and the memory a bit fuzzier. The body doesn’t always want what the mind wants. But it’s no longer something to battle against. It’s a loyal companion. It’s carried you through so much,  joy, sorrow, love, moves, children, hopes, losses. And it’s still here. A little wobbly, but steady in spirit. And the mood, it’s often better. You know what matters. And it’s not the wrinkles. It’s not the status. It’s not what someone else thinks. It’s the moments.

So let’s celebrate aging, that slow, wise process that teaches us how to truly live. Now is the time when you can be both wise and mischievous, calm yet alive, thoughtful yet free. And maybe, just maybe, this is when life is at its best, when you have time to enjoy it, courage to laugh, and wisdom enough to know that it’s more than enough. You’ve learned, stumbled, loved, failed, and risen again. You know what you can handle and what’s not worth your energy. And perhaps the most beautiful thing about growing older is that you stop trying to be someone else. You become yourself, truly. You say “no, thank you” to what doesn’t feel right, without apologizing. You say “yes” to what makes you happy, without overthinking it. Even your humor changes. It becomes softer, but also sharper. You laugh more at others, at life, at yourself. Because honestly, if you can’t laugh at yourself by now, you’ve missed the whole point. So no, aging doesn’t steal our youth. It gives us our peace. It’s when you stop chasing life that you finally start living it.

So next time you see a wrinkle in the mirror, smile at it. It’s not a sign that you’ve grown old, it’s a memory that you’ve lived, laughed, cried, loved, and made it through another day. And if someone tells you that you should “stay young,” just say: “I don’t mind getting older. After all, it’s the only way to keep on living.

”There’s something about the light here in the south of France. In autumn it’s softer and slower as if the sun, too, has grown older and learned to take its time. I sit with my morning tea on the terrace, listening to the village wake up, and I think… life, after all, turned out pretty well. Not perfect, but perfectly enough.