You may be surprised to learn that when researchers asked people over 65 to pick the age they would most like to return to, the majority bypassed the wild and wrinkle-less pastures of their teens, 20s and 30s, and chose their 40s.
We are more accustomed to seeing the entry into middle age treated as a punch line or a cause for condolences. Despite admonishments that “50 is the new 30,” middle age continues to be used as a metaphor for decline or stasis. Having just completed a book about the history and culture of middle age, I found that the first question people asked me was, “When does it begin?” anxiously hoping to hear a number they hadn’t yet reached.
Elderly people who find middle age to be the most desirable period of life, however, are voicing what was a common sentiment in the 19th century, when the idea of a separate stage of development called “middle age” began to emerge. Although middle age may seem like a universal truth, it is actually as much of a manufactured creation as polyester or the rules of chess. And like all the other so-called stages into which we have divvied up the uninterrupted flow of life, middle age, too, is a cultural fiction, a story we tell about ourselves.
The story our great-great-great-grandparents told was that midlife was the prime of life. “Our powers are at the highest point of development,” The New York Times declared in 1881, “and our power of disciplining these powers should be at their best.”
Yes, yes, you think, bully for higher powers and all, but what about thickening waistlines, sagging skin, aching knees and multiplying responsibilities for aging, ailing parents? Is there anyone past 40 who, at one point or other, hasn’t pushed aside qualms and pushed back the skin above their cheekbones to smooth out those deepening nasolabial folds? Gym addicts aside, when it comes to face and physique, middle age doesn’t have a chance.
The problem with the physical inventory of middle age, though, is that it inevitably emphasizes loss — the end of fertility, decreased stamina, the absence of youth. Middle age begins, one cultural critic declared, the moment you think of yourself as “not young.” The approach is the same as that taken by physicians and psychologists, who have defined wellness and happiness in terms of what was missing: health was an absence of illness; a well-adjusted psyche meant an absence of depression and dysfunction.
The most recent research on middle age, by contrast, has looked at gains as well as deficits. To identify the things that contribute to feeling fulfilled and purposeful, Carol Ryff, the director of the Institute on Aging at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, developed a list of questions to measure well-being and divided them into six broad categories: personal growth (having new experiences that challenge how you think about yourself); autonomy (having confidence in your opinions even if they are contrary to the general consensus); supportive social relationships; self-regard (liking most aspects of your personality); control of your life; and a sense of purpose.
by Patricia Cohen, NY Times | Read more:
Illustration: Gemma Correl
We are more accustomed to seeing the entry into middle age treated as a punch line or a cause for condolences. Despite admonishments that “50 is the new 30,” middle age continues to be used as a metaphor for decline or stasis. Having just completed a book about the history and culture of middle age, I found that the first question people asked me was, “When does it begin?” anxiously hoping to hear a number they hadn’t yet reached. Elderly people who find middle age to be the most desirable period of life, however, are voicing what was a common sentiment in the 19th century, when the idea of a separate stage of development called “middle age” began to emerge. Although middle age may seem like a universal truth, it is actually as much of a manufactured creation as polyester or the rules of chess. And like all the other so-called stages into which we have divvied up the uninterrupted flow of life, middle age, too, is a cultural fiction, a story we tell about ourselves.
The story our great-great-great-grandparents told was that midlife was the prime of life. “Our powers are at the highest point of development,” The New York Times declared in 1881, “and our power of disciplining these powers should be at their best.”
Yes, yes, you think, bully for higher powers and all, but what about thickening waistlines, sagging skin, aching knees and multiplying responsibilities for aging, ailing parents? Is there anyone past 40 who, at one point or other, hasn’t pushed aside qualms and pushed back the skin above their cheekbones to smooth out those deepening nasolabial folds? Gym addicts aside, when it comes to face and physique, middle age doesn’t have a chance.
The problem with the physical inventory of middle age, though, is that it inevitably emphasizes loss — the end of fertility, decreased stamina, the absence of youth. Middle age begins, one cultural critic declared, the moment you think of yourself as “not young.” The approach is the same as that taken by physicians and psychologists, who have defined wellness and happiness in terms of what was missing: health was an absence of illness; a well-adjusted psyche meant an absence of depression and dysfunction.
The most recent research on middle age, by contrast, has looked at gains as well as deficits. To identify the things that contribute to feeling fulfilled and purposeful, Carol Ryff, the director of the Institute on Aging at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, developed a list of questions to measure well-being and divided them into six broad categories: personal growth (having new experiences that challenge how you think about yourself); autonomy (having confidence in your opinions even if they are contrary to the general consensus); supportive social relationships; self-regard (liking most aspects of your personality); control of your life; and a sense of purpose.
by Patricia Cohen, NY Times | Read more:
Illustration: Gemma Correl
