The Radical Things I've Learned From Women In Their 70s Living Their Best Lives
My amazing female elders are living, learning, and loving on their own terms.
Oneinchpunch, annakimphotos | Canva I can’t wait to turn 70.
I know, I’m supposed to be terrified of aging. But the happiest women I know all seem to be in their 70s — crow’s feet, neck wattles, varicose veins and all.
Most of the unhappiest women I know are in their 20s and 30s.
They are the ones trying to find a foothold in the world and realizing that womanhood doesn’t quite match up to the shiny promises in the brochure. They still care about pleasing people, about measuring up. Maybe they’re not sure about marriage and kids, but their weekends and Instagram feeds are getting clogged with weddings and baby showers, and they feel the pressure all the same, the Fear of Missing Out.
I was happy enough in my 20s, but I spent far too much time deferring to men. I spent far too much time trying to conform to what I was told I needed to be and do in order to “get ahead” in the world. In retrospect, I wish I’d spent those precious child-free days sleeping more, hiking more, and telling more men to frick off.
My 30s were punctuated by the Moments of Great Joy that come with having small children, but those moments came at the expense of a near-total loss of self that was, in retrospect, devastating. Some of the Moments of Great Joy were captured on video, and when I watch these videos, I feel briefly nostalgic for the days when my children smelled good and still called me “Mama.” But otherwise, I rarely feel nostalgic for my 30s.
I just turned 43 and have so far found this decade to be far superior to the preceding two. Still, though, I haven’t escaped the Relentless Pressure that comes with parenting in the 21st century and all the Big Emotions of growing children — not to mention the Big Emotions of adults trying to deal with growing children. It would all be far more bearable if diffused across a village, but of course, Americans no longer do villages, so instead these Big Emotions mount and escalate, threatening to buckle the walls of our home.
Most of my 40-something female friends have managed to claim a stronger sense of self, but we’re still on our respective hamster wheels, unable to pause and catch our breath.
The delicate fabric of our lives seems forever on the verge of unraveling. If we’re not constantly vigilant, expenses pile, food goes bad, and messes accumulate. There is never a moment, it seems when the kids don’t need new clothes. They grow in their sleep, waking up to find errant toes bursting through their socks and rangy arms stretching from their sleeves.
According to society, I’m supposed to be mourning my youth, but as far as I’m concerned, the young can have their taut necks and undimpled thighs. Instead, I find myself gazing wistfully at the social media feeds of Baby Boomer friends and relatives. So many are out there living their best lives, taking full advantage of three things that seem to elude their younger counterparts: time, connection, and autonomy.
These three things particularly elude mothers, from whom society demands all-encompassing sacrifices. It’s heartening to see women in their 70s come out on the other side with permission to live their own lives. I know that they too have hunched in the dark corners of motherhood, the dark corners that we’re not supposed to talk about, feeling isolated, disempowered, and overwhelmed. I know that they too have lived in shadows, faded into walls, and lost themselves somewhere along the way.
Of course, raising children shouldn’t have to entail sacrificing our sense of self, and we shouldn’t need to wait for “permission” from society to prioritize our own needs. But the elusive trifecta of time, connection, and autonomy certainly helps pave the way.
The radical things I’ve learned from women in their 70s living their best lives:
1. Time
Time in and of itself guarantees nothing; time is what you make of it. We can spend it spiraling down social media rabbit holes, watching mindless TV, drinking successive alcoholic beverages, or shopping online for things we don’t really need.
The 70+-year-old women out there living their best lives might partake in these activities sparingly, but they spend most of their time engaging with the world, moving their bodies, and learning new things.
My mother’s weekly itinerary includes a hiking group, a biking group, a sketching class, a choir practice, and a volunteer shift at a food bank. She occasionally deviates from her routine to take trips (last summer, she biked across The Netherlands) and canvas door-to-door for political campaigns. Oh, and did I mention that she jogs three times a week?
My aunt has leaned into her Buddhist spiritual practice and continues to teach Pilates. My former boss does consulting work and takes advantage of her flexible schedule to travel to beautiful places. When she posts the various views from her various windows on Facebook, I sigh and think to myself, “Someday….”
Inspired by these women, I’m always on the lookout for ways to take back my time. When I can, I try not to use it to trudge through to-do lists, but rather to slow down, perhaps walk somewhere beautiful, and explore new frontiers.
2. Connection
Also, and perhaps most importantly, I try to use my scant spare time to connect with people I love. Even though I live in the same house with three people I love, meaningful connection requires both time and intention — two things that are sorely lacking in our needlessly busy lives.
Though I rarely enjoy a moment alone, I often feel isolated. It’s all too common for my partner, children, and coworkers to move on parallel tracks through our respective days, showing up when we need to, checking off our chores, and occasionally catching one another up on the contours of our lives.
The inspiring women I know in their 70s, by contrast, build their days around making time for people. Not making time to take care of people (been there, done that), but time to simply be present with friends and family whose company they enjoy.
Watching my own parents engage with my children reminds me how delightful they can be when I’m not corralling them in and out of the house, pressuring them to eat at least three more bites for God’s sake, or arguing with them about the latest product they insist they can’t live without.
At this stage of life, I’m trying not to overcomplicate things. The human connection doesn’t have to be all-consuming — it can be as simple as a neighborhood walk with my daughter, an uninterrupted conversation with my partner after bedtime, or a low-key glass of wine with a friend. I have to remind myself that I will never, ever, reach the end of my to-do list, and the world will keep spinning if I occasionally set it aside.
3. Autonomy
Back in my 20s, I saw my future as one giant ladder that I would simply continue to ascend. With each passing year, I believed, I would further my career and increase my earning potential.
One could argue that I reached the pinnacle of my career at age 28 when I had my own window office at an internationally respected media company. At the time, I suffered a severe case of imposter syndrome, but still, I saw nothing but blue skies ahead. Eventually, I realized that the men in fancy suits who worked on the top floor were not my friends, even though they smiled at me in the elevator, and I started to question everything. I suddenly felt like I was slipping down the ladder, and even though I still gripped it tightly, I was no longer sure I wanted to be on it at all.
Then I had kids, and for those intensive early years, the working world more or less deemed me irrelevant. I lost not only my earning potential but also my hard-won sense of autonomy. Between my work and family, it seemed there was not a single decision I could make without taking into account the needs, preferences, and feelings of at least a half dozen other human beings — and my needs, preferences, and feelings always fell last on the priority list.
Of course, it’s healthy human behavior to take other people’s needs into account, but the amazing women I know in their 70s don’t prioritize themselves any less than anyone else. Most had careers of some sort, but they no longer relied on a job to inform their sense of self-worth (or lack thereof). They enjoy both financial independence and the freedom to learn, live, and love on their own terms.
My great aunt, who is currently a woman in her 90s living her best life, decided to divorce her husband in her 70s. She eventually got remarried, outlived husband #2, and then moved on to a boyfriend, who offered companionship without the pressures of marriage. My former boss also has a boyfriend, but politely declines his repeated requests to move in together. She spent enough years cleaning up after another man’s stuff, thank you very much, and she loves her quaint old home, where everything is exactly as she wants it.
If the last few years have taught me anything, it’s that life is unpredictable and can be upended at any time.
Who knows what the future may bring? By the time I’m 70, it’s entirely possible that I’ll be spending my days engaged in guerrilla warfare with gun-toting Texan refugees off the coast of Idaho.
Even if my worst climate nightmares don’t come to pass, not all of us will have the physical stamina or financial means to live our best lives in our 70s. Some of us may suffer from health conditions beyond our control and far too many of us will work hard all our lives for not enough pay, reaching retirement age only to realize that we will barely be able to afford basic necessities — if that. Unlike my Black partner, the happiest women I know in their 70s have also benefited from generational wealth, disproportionately accumulated through centuries of racism and white supremacy.
So no, this is not some sappy self-help story that promises you (or me) a golden old age if we just make sure to exercise, eat right, and make smart financial decisions.
We all feel our futures slipping beyond our grasp, struggling to stay healthy in a culture that defaults to making us sick, and fighting to stake out a corner of this increasingly fraught world where we can find some degree of stability and peace. Some of us will do everything “right” only to find ourselves caring full-time for a partner or a grandchild in our 70s, unable to access the time and freedom that our counterparts enjoy.
Nothing is guaranteed, I know. What I can do is to figure out what’s within my control, both when it comes to living my own best life — in my 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s, and hopefully beyond — and when it comes to ensuring that my own brown children will be able to share in the privileges I’ve long enjoyed.
At the very least, as anti-aging products flood my social media feeds, it’s nice to know that getting older is not something I have to dread or fear. It’s nice to know that there are still new frontiers to explore, norms to be liberated from, people to love, and lessons to learn. It’s nice to know that in all probability, my best life still lies ahead.
Kerala Taylor is an award-winning writer and co-owner of a worker-owned marketing agency. Her weekly stories are dedicated to interrupting notions of what it means to be a mother, woman, worker, and wife. She writes on Medium and has recently launched a Substack publication Mom, Interrupted.