Recently, I heard Ildikó von Kürthy talking about her book Alt genug (Old Enough). She criticised a society that constantly sends us the message that young is good and old is bad.
What if, instead, we could see growing older as something natural? As a change that is part of life and also brings many benefits? One thing I love about growing older is the clearer perspective I have gained. It helps me see through illusions I used to hold on to. Ideas and expectations that, over time, have cost me a great deal of energy and vitality.
Kürthy says something along these lines: Today I may have to wear glasses, but I can still see more clearly than I used to. I know exactly what she means.
And I don’t think I see things more clearly today because I have an answer to everything. Rather, it is mainly because I am increasingly willing to question the answers I once believed in.
My illusion of freedom
For a long time, I understood freedom this way: I am free if I can party all night, travel to faraway places and afford lots of things …
But how many of these freedoms truly reflected who I was inside? And how many came from a socially shaped idea of what a free life is supposed to look like? “You” party hard. “You” travel a lot. “You” are successful. “You” simply do these things. Many of these ideas had unconsciously taken root deep inside me until, at some point, I believed they were part of my identity.
Today, I see my greatest freedom in being able to determine my own life. I am becoming increasingly conscious of the values I choose, the attitudes I hold and the actions I take. Society doesn’t decide how I live. I do. Regardless of whether my way of living seems strange, unnatural, quirky, boring or inappropriate to others.
The more I listen to my inner voice, the more I like myself. I like the maturity I have gained. And I especially like myself when I see and judge myself through my own eyes, rather than through the eyes of society or other people.
The illusion that we can change other adults
Time and again, we live under the illusion that we can change other adults.
There is the mother who wants her daughter to live a healthier life.
The partner who is waiting for her boyfriend to become more self-aware.
The sister who wishes her brother would reconcile with their father.
The sister who wants to be understood by her sister.
The son who is waiting for his mother to notice the many beautiful aspects of her life, while she herself sees mostly her suffering.
The friend who is waiting for her friend to show compassion.
I used to believe that I could change other people through my own behaviour. If only I were more understanding, communicated better, became more patient, tried harder … then eventually the other person would see me, understand me, love me or change.
But at some point, I realised that an adult changes, if at all, only when they are ready to do so themselves. Never for me. Period.
Sometimes it helps to ask ourselves: Do I actually love this person as they stand before me today? Or do I love the illusion of who they could be? The idea of their best possible version, which might not even exist in reality?
I like being optimistic. I like living with hope. It is a quality I appreciate in myself, and in many areas of my life it helps me move forward. But sometimes the line between hope and fantasy is very thin. Hope can then disguise an illusion: a fantasy about who people could be, what potential they have or how their good side might eventually reveal itself.
I know this kind of illusion all too well from my own life. Time and again, I spent a long time trying to bring my imagined versions of other people to life. In vain. Far too often, I made my own well-being dependent on whether someone understood me, acknowledged me or behaved the way I wanted them to. Each time, I gave away a little of my inner freedom.
The one person I have control over is myself. I can work on myself. I can change. I can let go. I can do my best. Whatever comes of that, I try to accept. And I am getting better at it every day.
The illusion that once served a purpose
I don’t believe that such illusions arise simply from stupidity or blindness. Like so many things, they once served a purpose. A child needs hope. A child needs to believe that the people they depend on could be loving, available and capable of change. This fantasy helps them cope with an emotionally difficult reality.
But as adults, we may eventually realise that this hope no longer protects us. It keeps us stuck. And healing no longer begins with the other person changing. It begins with changing the way we see them. Perhaps an illusion is not always something we saw incorrectly. Sometimes it is something we needed for a while in order to keep going.
That is why I don’t want to regret the illusions I once held. Perhaps, without them, I wouldn’t appreciate the lightness I feel today quite so much. They were part of the journey that made me the person I am now.
And so my past is no longer just what drained my energy, but also what led me to the clarity I have today.
The illusion of control
We are constantly planning and optimising. We try to eliminate every uncertainty.
But life remains unpredictable. The stronger our idea of how things should be, the harder it becomes to deal with what actually happens. We unlearn how to see the world as it really is. Again and again, we believe we can control our future, our health, our youth, our children or the people around us.
We often live unconsciously with the belief that we are “okay” as long as we keep functioning. Yet we can appear successful on the outside while living far removed from our own needs on the inside. Social recognition can deepen this disconnect even further.
For so long, I tried to become something: slimmer, more popular, better, more successful … But what are we actually measuring ourselves against? Who determines our worth? Who decides when we are beautiful or successful enough? And who decides who we should be? When we constantly try to become someone else, we keep pushing our own contentment into the future. Don’t we too often overlook what is already here, right now?
Today, I am probably less beautiful or less successful than I used to be. But I don’t care. I am old enough to feel good about myself anyway. Perhaps we are at our most beautiful when we stop trying to please others.
Since I started trying to measure myself primarily against my own standards, I have become more content with every passing year. I do my best. I know that. And that is enough for me. I rely less and less on approval or acceptance from others. It makes my life calmer and easier — and me more content.
The illusion that we need to know everything
From an early age, we are taught how important it is to know things and be well-informed. And what do we therefore try desperately to avoid? Not knowing.
How often do we argue with the people we love because we believe we know better than they do? Because we want to be right. Because we want to explain to them why we are right. But how often are our conflicts based on our own interpretations of what is happening? We rarely react to reality itself. Instead, we react to the picture we have created of it.
We tend to run our familiar thoughts in endless loops. Because we have thought something so many times before, it begins to feel true. We act on what we believe we know and wonder why life keeps presenting us with similar situations.
I like the idea that every thought that enters my mind is merely a suggestion. My freedom lies above all in choosing the ones that make sense to me. I am not my thoughts. I am not my mind. I am so much more. We are so quick to mistake our self-images for facts: This is just who I am. I can’t do that. I’m not good enough. That’s impossible. Yet such beliefs are often learned interpretations of our experiences, not unchangeable truths.
Viktor Frankl is often credited with the thought: “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our freedom.” I feel this, too. The more space I allow between stimulus and response, the more I reconnect with my natural self. And the more naturally I act, the more authentic my actions feel.
Perhaps this is one of the greatest gifts of growing older: I no longer have to hold on to every idea I once believed to be true. I am allowed to change my mind, question my beliefs and let go of things that once seemed important to me. I don’t have to know everything. I don’t always have to be right. I don’t have to control everything. I don’t have to understand or change everyone. And I no longer have to be someone I don’t even want to be.
The less I cling to my illusions, the more energy I have left for what is actually here. For my life, my relationships and myself. Perhaps growing older is not just about gathering more experience. Perhaps it is also about finally no longer needing to believe or know certain things.
And for that, I am happy to be old enough.
LUMA – it begins in you.
A little exercise
The next time you are convinced that something is exactly as you perceive it, pause for a moment. Take a breath and ask yourself: Is this really reality — or is it my interpretation of it? What other perspective might there be?
A question for reflection
What belief about myself, other people or life could I let go of to become freer?