Image by Alex-101 on Unsplash.
My next book might be called Why Aging Really Sucks. Or something like that.
What I especially hate are the chirpy, cheery sayings people toss around about growing old. It’s like telling someone who’s been sentenced to life in prison, “Pretend you’re headed to a luxury resort.”
No, it really is that bad. Here are my three least favorite myths.
Myth #1: “Old age is not for the faint of heart.”
Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro is not for the faint of heart. But climbing Kilimanjaro is a choice. If you’re weak or afraid, you can stay home, go to yoga class in a climate-controlled studio, and sip a smoothie afterward.
Aging isn’t like that. You don’t get to say, “No thanks, I’ll skip this part.” You’re expected to endure the cold, hunger, and pain anyway—except this time it’s your own body failing.
Not everyone is strong enough to climb a mountain. But somehow everyone is expected to be strong enough to face the slow breakdown of old age with grace and joy. It’s not a choice—unless, of course, assisted dying becomes legal. Until then, you’re conscripted.
Myth #2: “Aging isn’t about losing, it’s about letting go.”
Letting go is voluntary. Losing isn’t.
If you can’t dance anymore, or hike, or travel the way you used to, you haven’t “let go”—you’ve lost something. You can try to find substitutes. You can try to make peace with it. But pretending it’s voluntary is just dishonest.
If you’ve been active and independent all your life and now find yourself stuck indoors, stripped of privacy and control, do you really have a choice? Does your “new life” replace what you had—or does it feel meaningless? Let’s be honest.
Myth #3: “It’s better than the alternative.”
Remember Patrick Henry: “Give me liberty or give me death.”
During World War II, spies carried cyanide pills so they wouldn’t be captured and tortured. Growing old can feel like a slow version of the same thing—your body becomes your prison. Painful medical procedures can drag things out. Nursing homes can become cages.
“It’s selfish for my father to refuse treatment,” one woman said. “Doesn’t he realize we’ll miss him?”
So he’s expected to endure pain so that they won’t miss him. This saying comforts the onlookers, not the person living it.
When you tell yourself, “It’s better than the alternative” as you send your parent to a nursing home, try asking them how it looks from the other side. Sometimes, the alternative really is better.
Bottom Line
Aging isn’t a mountain you choose to climb. It isn’t a graceful ritual of “letting go.” And from the inside, it isn’t always better than the alternative. We should stop telling these fairy tales—because they only make the reality lonelier and harder.
If you appreciated this essay, you might want to read my book, When I Get Old I Plan To Be A Bitch.
