How to Bash the ‘Birthday Ceiling’

Growing older is inevitable and, as the saying goes, it’s better than the alternative. Limiting ourselves by age, though, is a state of mind. We often accept restrictive stereotypical statements about our abilities as we grow older or what’s supposed to happen at certain ages.

Today more than ever, the prohibitions, barriers, and blocks to many activities at certain ages are smashed daily. The authors of Living to 100, Thomas Perls and Margery Silver of the New England Centenarian Study in Boston, tell us that, contrary to earlier prevailing thought, many elders continue active engagement in business, volunteerism, and family life long into the late years of their lives. Centenarians, say Perls and Silver, “paint a stunning picture of the potential of aging. They demonstrate that a long life can mean a healthy, enjoyable life … a life of satisfaction.”

Daily headlines trumpet the accomplishments of people in their 60s, 70s, 80s, and older. They run marathons, exhibit paintings, win awards, fulfill their dreams, and pursue what they love. Clint Eastwood continues to act and direct at 94. George W. Bush went skydiving on his 90th birthday. Rita Moreno starred in a movie at 90, and Angela Lansbury continued to act into her 90s. Writer Herman Wouk published his memoir at 100. Kirk Douglas, also at 100, came out with his 12th book. At 98 years old, yoga master Tao Porchon-Lynch lectured, taught, and did all the limb-bending poses. And each of us can probably think of many more musicians, painters, architects, technological wizards, corporate CEOs, and others who have bashed their birthday ceilings.

The Too-Late Assumption

Nevertheless, many of us limit ourselves with the “too late” lament, and it seems to have no lower limit. In the park, I heard a 30-year-old mother wheeling two babies tell her friend she wished she’d started the pastry-catering business she’d always dreamed of. She added, “I couldn’t begin now. It’s too late.” When a man of about 45 told me he’d always wanted to take piano lessons, I suggested he start. “Oh, no,” he said, “Way too late! I couldn’t learn now.”

The great English poet John Milton, author of Paradise Lost, wasn’t immune to the “too late” chorus. In one of his more famous sonnets, he mourned the passing of opportunity: “When I consider how my light is spent / Ere half my days in this dark world and wide … ” Translation: Milton felt his life was half over and he’d done nothing with his “light” or talent.

How old was he? Scholars believe he was between 32 and 47. Incidentally, having become blind at 43, he began Paradise Lost when he was 52 and finished it at 57. Too late?

I recall my own lament when a college classmate attained instant fame with her writing. Because of her success, I thought everything was over — that I’d never have any chances at publishing and it was way too late for me. At the time I was 21.

The “too late” bug can bite at any age. It can burrow under your skin as depression and fester with its insidious bedfellow, jealousy. When you compare yourself to others, of course you always end up wanting more from your own life. That train of thought only leads to more depression and mental paralysis. But with role models that inspire and show us that there are truly no age limits, we can reverse our thoughts and self-expectations for the better.

Is It Ever Too Late?

At 87, Stewart Elliott lived in a nursing home in Evansville, Indiana. Confined to a wheelchair, he survived two heart attacks and suffered from severe osteoporosis and acute digestive problems.

Yet, on a manual typewriter, he wrote a weekly column for the Evansville Courier & Press. Elliott wrote especially about life in a nursing home and the problems of many residents. Throughout his columns, and despite the concurrent ailments of his wife who also lived in the home, Elliott stressed the importance of worthwhile contributions. He broadcast a relentless upbeat attitude and continued his column for many years.

Connie Goldman and Richard Mahler wrote a wonderful book titled Secrets of Becoming a Late Bloomer. The 14 secrets include those of positive attitude, forgiveness, work, health, humor, creativity, and spirituality. In the foreword, Ken Dychtwald, Ph.D., calls for a shift in our perspective: “The antiquated view of maturity as a period of stagnation and decline must be replaced once and for all with the reality that the latter part of life is an exciting time of growth, productivity, and newfound pleasures—if we know the secrets of becoming a Late Bloomer.”

Another favorite book that I open when I succumb to one of those depressive “too late” moods is called, aptly enough, Late Bloomers, by New Yorker writer Brendan Gill. He profiles many well-known people who “bloomed” late in life and yet made significant contributions. I bet you had no idea: Harry S. Truman, Paul Cezanne, R. Buckminster Fuller, Julia Child, Ed Sullivan, Charles Darwin, Colonel Harland Sanders, Pope John XXIII, Edward VII, Mary Baker Eddy, O. Henry, Mother Teresa, Miguel Cervantes, Jonathan Swift, Charles Ives, Edith Wharton, and Sir Alexander Fleming were all “late bloomers.”

Gill is unfazed by their lateness. In fact, he applauds it and even points out why it’s needed. As significant as the blooming, the lateness “has to do with the moment in time at which we discover, whether through an event dictated by forces outside ourselves or by a seemingly spontaneous personal insight, some worthy means of fulfilling ourselves.”

Our dreams and desires don’t vanish with the years. Creativity expert and coach Julia Cameron says that if at 20 you want to write a novel, you’ll still want to write it at 80. Your dreams and talents just go underground and keep resurfacing until you’re ready.

Women, Specifically . . .

Maybe for aging women more than aging men, the cultural expectations abound: Wear subdued clothes, speak in subdued tones, don’t curse, don’t go to certain places, curtail our physical activities, keep searching for a partner, give up, reconcile, accept the despair of ruined goals.

And our culture encourages us to assume that our physical decline is inevitable: everything will sag; we will succumb to assisted living facilities; we will be prescribed pills for every malady Medicare covers; we will be lonely and depressed; we will lose all interest, creativity, hope, and pleasure. And somehow, we must apologize for growing, and looking, older.

Happily, we have plenty of contrary role models, women defying the limiting decrees:

When interviewed at 85 years old in 2022, African American historical painter Shirley Woodson had no plans to give up her painting. “I love art, and I love my culture, and I want to contribute to it for as long as I can.”

New York City socialite Joyce Carpati, now in her 90s: “I don’t try to look young, and I don’t want to look young. I want to look terrific.”

Carmen Dell’Orefice, a lifelong model with white hair, is still working at 93.

Businesswoman Deborah Szekely continues to run her resort in Baja, California—she’s 102.

In Maine, “Lobster Lady” Virginia Oliver has been harvesting lobsters for most of her life. She likes “being out on the water and being your own boss. I’m the boss. I’m not going to retire; I’m going to do this till I die.” She’s 104.

An older friend of mine wears pink from head to toe, with a matching handbag and nails. Her friend lives alone at 105!

Another one of my friends is letting her white hair grow out, a proud shining crown, and curses big as we burst out laughing.

I wear bright colors and pastels, and even shorts and big drop earrings.

I live alone and, after years of marriage, love it. When I tell my married women friends of my feelings, they shuffle their feet and look uncomfortable.

I exercise daily, bending and stretching in challenging yoga poses, and feel wildly self-righteous.

I work constantly at editing and writing, full days and evenings, flexing my creativity and often luxuriating in the flow.

I send out my work relentlessly, swallowing all the rejections, and sometimes, to my astounded joy, get accepted and published. And I never want to retire.

I’m constantly curious and learning, reading, internet exploring, and joining near-nightly spiritual Zoom classes.

I sometimes get delicious crushes on younger men and feel 30. (So what if I could be their mother—or grandmother?)

When something goes wrong, I love to hear myself express a heart-mouth-and-tongue-exploding curse.

Your Turn

So, what have you always wanted, craved, yearned to do? Know that you can do that. Kick out those “culturally prescribed norms,” as Marianne Williamson calls them in The Age of Miracles. She observes, “We can forge a new vision, a new conversation, to take us beyond the limited thought-forms that have defined its parameters for generations.”

A few possibilities: Take a class on a subject you’ve always wanted to know more about. Register for online dating. Say hello to more people, and smile. Go out to eat alone. Try new and bolder makeup. Travel to a place you’ve always wanted to visit. And most importantly: Mentally and emotionally reject the debilitating, too-pervasive idea that you must decline.

As you listen to your inner wisdom, you will gain the courage to re-dedicate yourself to a lifelong dream or a new desire and act on it. Like a persistent neighbor, opportunity keeps knocking. Open the door. You are not limited by your age or entrenched societal notions of aging.

Go bash your own birthday ceiling!

Try these five daily rituals to honor your Inner Elder at any age.