Thoughts on turning 52

52? Feels like I was just 32. In a lot of ways, I still feel as though I’m in my 30s. A meme came across my feed the other day about how being in your 50s is about “still working but wondering when you can stop working and having 30 or so years left”. I don’t agree with the working part. I’m still thinking about ways I can build on my career – not wind down. 30 more years? Who knows? Time will tell.

As I turn 52, I can’t help but think about how both of my maternal grandparents died the year they turned 52. Most of their grandchildren, including me, never met them. My Jewish names match theirs (Netl Raisel). Their English names were Nathan and Rose. It’s Jewish tradition to name newborns after their deceased loved ones. In modern times, this often means our English names start with the same letter of the alphabet. So Nicole is for Nathan and Rayna is for Rose. Their early demise was talked about a lot in our extended family, including, being grateful, when each of their 5 children, lived past 52. My mother is the middle of 5. Her 79th birthday is in September. Since autumn of last year, my mother has been fighting the good fight, in what appears to be the final chapter of her life. But, as my sister and I have said, many times, this year, none of us know exactly what is going to happen to anyone, at any time. Medical diagnoses don’t account for human spirit. Even medical staff will tell you this when providing the most dire prognosis. 

The nurse practitioner who is in charge of my mother’s home-based palliative care told us about “exasperations” a few months ago.  (Note to say, apparently, the technical term is exacerbations, but the nurse called them exasperations, so that’s how I am referring to them here). With my mother’s late stage heart disease, certain activities, which would normally seem ordinary, cause my mother to be much more tired. They also might make her feel more frustrated. Part of the reason her nurse told us about exasperations was that my Mom might want to choose her exasperations carefully. Was the activity of tidying up worth tiring and getting frustrated. Was the activity of dicing vegetables worth it. It wasn’t just about getting tired. Each exasperation seemed to be making my Mom sleep more and become more weak. They seemed to be taking what little life is left, away.  

So far, this story about turning 52 is sounding bleak. But, it’s not meant to. For example, my Mom has had more exasperations. But, she’s also had more months than expected. Which makes me think how those exasperations relate to anyone’s life. We all have a limited number of days. We just don’t know, most of the time, how many days we have. Each experience can be looked at as either an exasperation or as a joy. My Mom decides which activities provide her joy and chooses to enjoy those activities, even if they make her a little more tired. My Mom continues to choose joy. 

That’s the difference between 52 and 32 also. At 32, I was more willing to do things that didn’t bring me joy. Being 52+ means choosing exasperations wisely.
Which activities bring me joy? Spending time with my Mom, my family, in general, my husband, my step-daughter. My friends. Activities I practice on my own also give me joy. I’ve always been a person who embraces my alone time. I enjoy exercising on my own. I enjoy “vegging” on my own. Taking long, hot, baths and reading or listening to books. Drinking good coffee is also something I enjoy. 

On a day-to-day, basis, what does it mean to me, to be turning 52?  How can I choose joy, day-to-day? 

First, and, foremost, as cliche as it may sound, each day I wake up, feeling healthy, is a good one. Each day I feel as though I can move my body the way I enjoy, walking, running, doing strength and conditioning workouts, at the gym, is a good one. Movement brings me joy. 

There are moments when I am doing each of these things that allow for a deep level of gratitude for the moment. For the city in which I live, which is relatively safe, free from war, open-minded, with still, mostly, clean air to breathe. Those feelings of gratitude permeate the rest of my day. 

There have been moments this year when I suddenly felt unstable walking and running. I felt unbalanced. It was scary for me. I wrote about it here and here. I have been working on it in many ways. It’s a lot better. My running is still not completely normal some days but it feels possible for improvement. I am grateful that this is still getting better. But, it’s another reminder, that these things can change when we don’t expect it, and, to learn how to handle the moment, day-to-day, as best as we can.

Relating to running, I have noticed that I need to warm-up to have a good run. I have to “walk-run” for a bit before I run full out. Is this an age thing? Is it specific to these balance issues I’m having? I don’t know, but, at the moment, I can’t just start jogging, right away, if I want to have a successful run . Being able to jog in a way that feels good to me, brings me joy. 

Last February, my husband and I went to England for a week. It was the first time we travelled, overseas, together. The first time since our 2020 planned honeymoon to Spain and Portugal was cancelled. We had a great time, and, it was extra special because we met Gavin’s daughter there for the week. The three of us had a great time. I hope for more days of experiences and travel, together. These types of experiences certainly bring me joy. 

Turning 52 means that I’ve had some experience with menopause. I’ve also had the experience of getting my period again after not having one for 14 months. What new and unexpected delights does the coming year have in store for me, on this front? Only time will tell. Where will I find joy in this experience? Time will tell 🙂 

Turning 52 means I continue to see my face change in ways I wonder if only I see. I jostle between acceptance (most of the time) to wondering what I could do “subtly” to enhance my middle aged face. But, I keep telling myself that nothing enhances the middle aged and aged face more than laughter, new experiences, more of the old experiences one cherishes and acceptance of the process of being alive. Being alive and aging is a true joy. 

Turning 52 means I have friends who are in their 30s and friends who are in their 50s and, sometimes, I feel like I have more in common with those in their 30s. Other times, I feel like a dinosaur when the subject of the amount of time that has passed since an experience in my life comes up. It’s been so long since I’ve been to France, for example, that I could redo it and it would all seem new and never experienced. Having friends of different ages and being privileged to share these memories, brings me joy. 

Turning 52 means crying at moments you weren’t expecting and finding some things that used to make you cry or laugh, unmoving. If only my 30-something self could have had some 52 year old chill about the drama that can come with dating and refuse to succumb to it. Of course, it’s possible that the drama of our younger years makes it possible to enjoy the chill later on. Having this wisdom brings me joy. 

Turning 52 means forgiving myself for decisions I made early in life that drove my career path. Ones that may have limited some. But those decisions also worked out just fine. It’s probably one the things I am still working on, in terms of, self-forgiveness. Maybe this year will be the year I cease to perseverate on this aspect of my story. Giving myself grace brings me joy. 

Turning 52 means embracing that I am a morning person. Being a morning person who wakes up most days around 5, means I am not able to be a night person. I don’t function well after 9pm. Knowing myself well enough and letting myself get enough rest brings me joy. 

Turning 52 means continuing to find ways I can add support to family and friends and peers. Finding ways to help others brings me joy. 

Turning 52 means wondering if I will have to justify my “grandmother age” worthiness the same way women feel they have e to justify their “mother age” worthiness. I never spent much time worrying about that, but, that doesn’t mean the discourse, about being worthwhile when one is a child free woman, doesn’t exist, and, it’s important to make sure you don’t give into those negative ideas. This is another area where I have the privilege to understand alternative ways of living in a world that values sameness and that brings me joy. 

Turning 52 means believing woman should wear whatever they want at any age. It also means that I am starting to pick up certain pieces of clothing and wonder if I want to wear certain things. Having the agency to make this choice, without worrying what others think, brings me joy. 

Turning 52 means I’m wondering what new PRs I can set at the gym. It means continuing to work on my push-ups, front squats, bench press, and more.

Turning 52 means appreciating that each year has its ups and downs and practicing ways to ride those waves in a healthy and meaningful way. And, it means, knowing that if one is lucky, 52 is young. Ok, young-ish. Turning 52 brings me joy.