Rethinking Aging: Women, Wisdom, and the Myth of ‘Youthfulness’

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on what it means to grow older. There’s an undeniable allure to a woman who’s freed herself from the myths surrounding youth and aging. I’ve had countless conversations with friends, family members, and even strangers about this topic, and the stories that emerge are rich and deeply personal. When we peel back the layers of what we’ve been told about aging, we uncover something powerful: age is more than a number; it’s a testament to resilience, wisdom, and self-discovery.

Turning forty felt like an exhale I didn’t know I’d been holding in. My twenties and thirties were a whirlwind of striving to meet expectations—career goals, body goals, relationship milestones, the endless balancing act. I got married. I had children. I started jobs and left jobs. I made new friends who fit into my life, while some old friendships quietly drifted away. Life was full, and I was always on the go, doing everything I thought I was supposed to do. But with each milestone, there was always something more, some invisible standard I was racing to meet, though I’d never consciously chosen these expectations for myself.

Somewhere in my late thirties, I started to feel tired of it all. I’d become so busy fulfilling the roles laid out in front of me that I rarely paused to ask if they truly fit, if they made me happy, or if they reflected who I really was. It was a cycle of endless striving, where “success” felt like a moving target just beyond reach.

By forty, something inside me shifted, and I felt a freedom I hadn’t known before. I began to care less about what others thought. Saying “no” got easier, and I stopped apologizing so much. With each decision, I felt a lightness that hadn’t been there in my youth—a quiet, unshakable confidence that only comes with experience. It’s a freedom that feels earned, and it’s rooted in understanding myself more deeply. Forty isn’t a finish line; it’s a new beginning where I get to define what matters, on my own terms.

Then there’s my friend , who turned fifty last year. Her life had been defined by a focus on others—raising kids, managing family, keeping the household running. She’s been through the whole spectrum of life’s curveballs and came out the other side with a different perspective. When I asked her what turning fifty felt like, she laughed. “You know what? I don’t worry as much. I’ve lived through enough to know that most things are survivable, and what isn’t, I can’t control anyway.”

She described a newfound confidence in her body and mind, not in spite of her age but because of it. Her confidence wasn’t about looking a certain way; it was about feeling a certain way—rooted in her strengths, skills, and wisdom. “I’m more comfortable in my skin now than I ever was at twenty ,thirty or forty,” she said, and it was clear she meant it.

t’s hard not to reflect on her words as I approach my own next decade. I find myself inspired, hoping to embrace that same sense of self-assurance, knowing that each year brings us closer to becoming who we’re meant to be.

Finally, there’s a woman I met at my Pilates class, somewhere in her early sixties, who radiates a quiet strength and elegance. She’s not trying to impress anyone; she just has this unpretentious ease about her that makes you want to hear her story. During one of our post-class chats, someone asked her what advice she’d give her younger self. She thought for a moment, then smiled and said, “Stop waiting for permission to live the life you want.”

Her sixties had given her a crystal-clear view of what truly mattered and, perhaps more importantly, what didn’t. She had no patience for societal pressures to be a certain weight, have a certain lifestyle, or keep up a youthful appearance. She’d shed the need for validation, and in doing so, had embraced herself more fully. Her wisdom was something she wore proudly—her years, a badge of honor rather than something to hide.

Listening to her, I couldn’t help but feel inspired by her sense of self, and it made me think about the kind of confidence and clarity I hope to find in my own journey.

These women aren’t anomalies; they’re part of a collective shift that’s happening as we begin to question society’s narrow narrative around aging. The obsession with “youthfulness” misses out on the richness that each decade brings. Why are we told that only our younger years are valuable or that a wrinkle-free face is the ultimate marker of beauty?

The truth is, each age brings its own gifts. Youth has its energy and vibrancy, yes, but age has its depth and clarity. If we embrace this, we move toward a new kind of beauty standard—one that honors each stage of life as unique and worthy. It’s time we celebrate the strength, self-assurance, and wisdom that only come with the passage of time.

What if we shifted the conversation around aging to one that celebrates growth and wisdom? What if we viewed each year as another layer of richness, rather than a step away from an idealized youth? Let’s build a new narrative together, one that acknowledges the beauty, worth, and power of every decade. Because in a world that idolizes youth, choosing to embrace and celebrate our age is a radical act of self-love and liberation.