I Just Turned 51 And I'm Thriving — Here Are My Secrets To Longevity
You can be authentically you no matter your age.
Andrii Nekrasov | Canva Today is my birthday. Not a milestone one by some accounts, but from my perspective it is.
I'm no longer the Big 5-0, I'm now officially 50+. A distinction that most people either love or hate. I'm going for a deep dive into the "Let's live like we're dying" tank and moving on until my journey takes me off this planet.
I have to be frank: Getting older has its pains and perks. You're probably aware of that every year when the birthday clock chimes "Happy Birthday To You!"
If you're not, then you're more than likely pretending, not fully living, and afraid of just being you. I know! That sounds like gospel, but it is the truth, and the truth shall set you free to accept yourself at whatever age you are.
For me, last year was the kick in the pants that took the wind out of my sails for about three months. I dealt with depression, empty-nesting, and lack of excitement for everything from intimacy to my business; honestly, it stunk.
I feared that I wouldn't pull out of it. Of course, I did. Yoga, meditation, a few pharmaceuticals, and of course a giant helping of "Get over yourself" from my inner child got me out of the dumpy doldrums.
Marcus Aurelius / Pexels
Over the last week, I've found myself revisiting my 51 years of life.
During those little jaunts into the past, I caught myself starting to think about what it meant to get older. Thankfully, I avoided thoughts like "my life's half over," or "I'm too old for this."
Rather than give birth to the woe-is-me syndrome, I chose to ask myself one poignant question, "What have you learned from living for over half a century?"
Don't worry: this isn't going to be the proverbial list of "I've lived through 10 presidents, the birth of the internet, and the demise of Kris Jenner's talk show." No need to relive all that stuff. Instead, I want to talk about the real good of living for over half a century.
In my teens, I observed a rapidly changing world, which by today's standard, was moving at a snail's pace. Gone were the days of my childhood when Free Love, Streakers, Vietnam, and the Bi-centennial of our country prevailed.
Instead, HIV/AIDS, World Aid, Farm Aid and Name Your Aid fundraisers were tapping me on the shoulder, inviting me to wake up to my calling to be of service and to come to the aid of others. It was an epidemic, and more than 25,000 people had died from AIDS, according to statistics.
A calling that would take another three decades to become my reality.
My time in college (and really, all of my 20s) laid the foundation for pretending to be something I wasn't. Years later, I learned the mind-blowing value of being authentic to live as me.
While aspects of my journey were lived truthfully, the majority of my twenties and my thirties were lived in a dishonest duality; a place that was both scary and comforting.
From these perspectives, the seeds of "I need to be doing something greater than myself," came sprouting up, only to be overgrown with career promotions, first home purchases, and the inevitable, "Should we have kids or not?" question (we did).
I'm blessed to have found myself during my years as a 30-something. Not completely proud of how I found myself, but sometimes it's the deep dives into the abyss that make you wake up.
That and being a raving fan of the hit TV show, 30 Something, both of which led me back to the center...my soul center.
This decade of my life showed me I had matured enough to be who I always was — a gay man, with two beautiful daughters, ready to be in a real gay relationship, capable of weathering the storm of divorce, breaking apart a family, coming out and escaping corporate America.
All lessons that taught me, when I'm screwing up, life is eating me alive and spitting me out, it's because I'm out of alignment with myself. Yep! Took 30-something years to learn those life lessons.
My 40s taught me the value of reflection. I flexed that looking-back muscle built it, and learned how not to dwell on the past. I'm not saying that I perfected the muscle into one to salivate over, I simply woke up and became aware that the reflection muscle exists for my benefit.
Without it, I wouldn't have been capable of embracing that I can rock my bald head and goatee, which still make me a handsome guy. Without reflection, I wouldn't have learned to appreciate alcohol rather than abuse it like my father did.
Without reflection, I wouldn't have come to a spiritual awakening that's shown me that spirituality is an individual awakening and has nothing to do with organized religion.
Now, here I stand! 51 — and God willing, I've got about 20 more years of roaring, reflecting, and reinventing.
- Two sophomores in the house — one in college, the other in high school — and the kids are all right.
- A man who has been by my side for 14 years. Which proves that this gay man can be in a long-term relationship.
- Sporting an extra-large muffin top, yet relishing the benefits of simple green eating and knowing that by 50+2, I could be looking in the mirror saying, "Buddy you look good for a 52-year-old."
- Writing books, blogging my perspectives for some hip online venues, and taking the stage where I am doing something bigger than myself.
- Looking ahead to what might be without getting tied to the outcome.
What about you? Are you going to roll over and let life pass you by because you're 20, 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80 plus, or are you going to join the mile-high club of celebrating you no matter what your age?
Rick Clemons is a certified professional coach, speaker, author, and podcaster who inspires corporations, entrepreneurs, college and university students, and individuals to make their bold moves.