This is 51: Heather Havrilesky Responds to The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire

"Women weren’t designed to fade into the woodwork as they get older. Women improve by the hour."

From the time I was 10, I’ve been obsessed with what it means to grow older. I’m curious about what it means to others, of all ages, and so I invite them to take “The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire.”

Here, Foreverland author and ”Ask Polly” advice columnist Heather Havrilesky responds.- Sari Botton

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How old are you?

51

Is there another age you associate with yourself in your mind? If so, what is it? And why, do you think? 

51 seems like a big number but I’m into it. Younger and smaller numbers sound less special to me at the moment. 

I didn’t know how good it would feel to be good at a few things and finally recognize that I’m good and enjoy that and celebrate it.

Do you feel old for your age? Young for your age? Just right? Are you in step with your peers?

I am definitely immature for my age. I’m kind of a show off at this point in my life. But I don’t think I’m particularly youthful compared to the other people I know. I have some friends my age here in North Carolina who go out at 10 pm, which is about the time I like to be crawling into bed. My bad attitude is youthful, though. Rage is the ultimate glow up.

What do you like about being your age?

I like waking up early every day to write. Something shifted at about 48 and now I don’t have to set an alarm. At 6 am, I’m wide awake and in the mood to write most days. I love that, compared to struggling to get out of bed like I did when I was younger. And I love falling into a deep sleep while watching anime with my teenagers. “Sit up straight or you’ll fall asleep again!” they always say.

I also love walking around in the world and feeling proud of myself—looking people straight in the eyes without flinching. If I’m under a ton of stress, a wave of shame will hit me. But right now, I feel very comfortable inside my skin. I can dress sloppily or wear something absurd and it all feels right to me. I know I don’t look amazing but I feel like I do on the inside. I’m hoping to hold onto that feeling indefinitely.

I don’t think in terms of milestones anymore. I try to get lost in each day and enjoy where I am right now.

What is difficult about being your age?

Well, I got diagnosed with breast cancer during the pandemic, so that sucked. But I didn’t have to have chemo, just a flurry of operations that transformed my body into something unfamiliar and faintly alien. It probably would’ve been traumatic but I experienced a kind of elated rush of happiness that buoyed me through the pain and suffering. Then 2021 was awful. You can delay trauma sometimes, but you pay the piper eventually.

I have all kinds of feelings about that experience, but I guess I’m the most surprised that I don’t feel ugly at all. I feel sort of reinvented. If I’d had chemo I probably wouldn’t be so cheerful about it. I feel grateful for the relatively easy path I’ve taken through cancer so far. But it was also an absolutely bizarre ride. For a writer, as long as life is interesting, a piece of you is happy in spite of everything else.

Heather Havrilesky’s latest book, Foreverland: On the Divine Tedium of Marriage, is irreverent, funny, refreshingly honest—and highly recommended.

What is surprising about being your age, or different from what you expected, based on what you were told?

I’m much more energetic and excited to meet new people than I thought I would be at this age. I also thought I’d be more sedate: reading books, gardening, I don’t know. I thought I’d feel more stagnant or at rest, but I’m just as moody as I’ve ever been, but now that I mostly welcome my moods and mine them for ideas and images on the page, I enjoy the unpredictability of being alive much more. 

I didn’t know how good it would feel to be good at a few things and finally recognize that I’m good and enjoy that and celebrate it. Writing is easier than ever, and I love to write more than ever, and I just plain enjoy my own company on the page. I didn’t have any idea that a person could land in a space where they just enjoy themselves thoroughly and get satisfaction from that. 

When I was younger, I was all about loneliness and longing and things being not quite right all the time. I listened to the dreariest music. Kids today call this “emo” and they’re not referring to Bright Eyes at all, it’s more like mopey goth looks and death metal? I don’t fucking know, actually. That’s the other thing: it’s fun to be uncool and confused. I enjoy it so much more than I thought I would.

I got diagnosed with breast cancer during the pandemic, so that sucked…I have all kinds of feelings about that experience, but I guess I’m the most surprised that I don’t feel ugly at all. I feel sort of reinvented.

What has aging given you? Taken away from you?

My memory is hilariously bad. I’m hoping that situation improves once my hormones are fully dead and gone. Those bitches are alive and kicking at the moment. Before I had cancer, my hormones were out of control—they were up all night snorting lines and screwing in a great big pile. I had teenage boy thoughts around the clock. The big surprise there was that it was the absolute best feeling in the world, to want so much, to crave more. I tried to celebrate it because I knew it wouldn’t last long. 

Then I had to start taking tamoxifen to prevent a recurrence of breast cancer, and that just ground me into the pavement. I was left with the obsessive teenage boy thought-remnants but less horndoggy ideation. Sad! 

Now I’m somewhere in between. Life after age 49 is a wild ride. It’s a million times less gross than I imagined, though. I feel much less gross than I did when I was younger. Nothing feels more disgusting than self-loathing, and nothing makes you hotter than self-acceptance—if only inside your own mind. But what other place matters more?

How has getting older affected your sense of yourself, or your identity?

I’m not sure I had a clear identity at all until I was about 40. I liked myself and felt proud of a few things but I didn’t believe in my ideas or values or understand, at a deeper level, who I wanted to be or how I wanted to spend my time. I was often thrown off by other people’s experience of me, their misunderstandings or their distaste.

It’s not that I never have bouts of caring too much about how other people see me. I’m still wired to be jittery and insecure and defensive about stupid shit. But it’s just like bad weather. The narratives I used to spin around my bad weather were debilitating. Now I try to rejoice in my bad wiring. I know that sounds like a gloss and it’s probably pretty chafing to read, but it truly is how I feel.

I’m also much more headstrong about the kinds of people I want to know. When I meet people who make sense to me, I work harder to keep them, to engage with them, and also just to say very directly: We match. Some people don’t need to hear that, but my kinds of people like to hear it often. It’s almost like a litmus test. The people who back away from it aren’t my people.  

Before I had cancer, my hormones were out of control—they were up all night snorting lines and screwing in a great big pile. I had teenage boy thoughts around the clock.

What are some age-related milestones you are looking forward to? Or ones you “missed,” and might try to reach later, off-schedule, according to our culture and its expectations?

I don’t think in terms of milestones anymore. I try to get lost in each day and enjoy where I am right now. Have I ever been a milestone person? I got married, that was very important to me, which is why I wrote a whole book about my marriage and the weird restrictions and joys and terrors of marriage in general. My younger daughter got braces yesterday. That feels like a milestone! 

But after the age of 40 I think carefully marking time has felt overrated to me. Every single fucking day is an incredible gift. You unwrap it impatiently, then you hug it close. 

I’d like to make “moves to New York City half time” into a milestone if possible. Or “writes her tenth amazing book.” I need for the books to get better and better. I’d love for my kids to be happy and thriving out in the world, for sure, but I try not to think too far ahead of where we are right now. There’s so much uncertainty in the world. You have to just take what you’ve got and delight in it.

What has been your favorite age so far, and why? Would you go back to this age if you could?

I loved being 49 because that was my horny teenage boy year. We traveled a lot, my sense of humor sort of reawakened, I felt pretty and also a little predatory inside my brain. I feel less confused and more grounded now, though, more like the creepy adult man version of that boy. My current ideal way of being is probably John Malkovich—by which I mean the fictional version of John Malkovich depicted in Being John Malkovich: arrogant, intense, impossible, always sort of reaching for a bigger point and missing the main point along the way as a result. Letting my personality and my physical self manifest all of my fucked up ideas and emotions and not trying to hide any of it: that’s some best life shit right there.

I tried to go gray a few years ago and I’m such a slob generally that I looked like Einstein. If I stop being a slob I think I could pull off gray hair.

That doesn’t mean it’s a loud thing. Malkovich is kind of creepily quiet a lot of the time, right? It’s about owning the universe inside your head, honoring it, savoring it. You can do that while you chat with your mother, do it while you talk your kids through a problem or challenge. 

Yeah, I don’t want to go backwards and be younger. When older people made that claim when I was younger, I always thought they were lying. But it’s great to be here.

Is there someone who is older than you, who makes growing older inspiring to you? Who is your aging idol and why?

My mom enjoys her day a lot. She cooks, walks my sister’s dog, sees friends, helps people, and she looks incredible. I mean she really glows. Her beauty routine has one step: Wash face with soap. I once said to her, “I want to buy you some of this amazing moisturizer I’ve been using,” and she said, “WHAT? COLD CREAM? I HATE COLD CREAM!” It’s like it’s still 1961 inside her head. But she’s funny and reads three books a week and she’s a secret snob about absolutely everything, nothing is good enough for her. She’s very charming and extremely generous. Her 79-year-old self definitely wouldn’t disappoint her 45-year-old self. She used to talk about being a weird old lady who dressed like a freak and rode a bicycle around town. That’s essentially who she is inside, and now she doesn’t give a fuck about seeming like that person so she doesn’t have to shop for interesting clothes or risk a hard fall from a bicycle.  

What aging-related adjustments have you recently made, style-wise, beauty-wise, health-wise?

I moisturize constantly. I just moved from LA to Durham, North Carolina and winter is no joke here. It’s a dry time. You need a lot of oil to pull through it. 

I refuse to dress appropriately for my age. What a load of complete horse shit that is! And somehow men cannot dress inappropriately for their age? Like so many other pointless, trivial restrictions, this one doesn’t apply to them?

I tried to go gray a few years ago and I’m such a slob generally that I looked like Einstein. If I stop being a slob I think I could pull off gray hair. But I need to really get my act together first. Also, my new neighbor friend who’s 65 dyes her hair bright red and it feels a little bit like an announcement: HEY FUCK YOU. She’s not like that at all, but I could be.   

What’s an aging-related adjustment you refuse to make, and why?

I refuse to dress appropriately for my age. What a load of complete horse shit that is! And somehow men cannot dress inappropriately for their age? Like so many other pointless, trivial restrictions, this one doesn’t apply to them?

I love the idea of dressing like an unhinged Russian ice skater for the rest of my life, or just really going off the rails and buying Elton John platform boots and a gigantic blue fake fur coat and looking like Grover on meth. I want to be wearing ball gowns to cocktail parties soon, like “Oh, there’s that woman who wears the ball gowns.” 

I don’t believe in drawing the line on anything ahead of time, or making solemn pronouncements about what you will and won’t allow yourself to do as you age. How the fuck do I know who I’ll be next month, let alone next year? Let’s give that bitch all the freedom she wants. Hasn’t she earned it? I mean, my god. What is this moralism around grooming? Let people live their fucking lives. You don’t know how it feels inside their skin. Your offense says more about you than anyone else.

Getting bent over other people’s personal choices is just the most embarrassing thing under the sun. The more aberrant your choices seem to most people, the better we’re likely to get along. People who understand what they want, who aren’t afraid to want weird things: I love you. Never change.

What’s your philosophy on celebrating birthdays as an adult? How do you celebrate yours?

On my 50th birthday, I was preparing for major surgery in the middle of a global pandemic. So even though I don’t normally get that into birthdays, I’m owed a pretty elaborate birthday celebration at this point. 

After the age of 40 I think carefully marking time has felt overrated to me. Every single fucking day is an incredible gift. You unwrap it impatiently, then you hug it close. 

I feel like I deserve to celebrate a lot this year, honestly, just for making it through the past two years without losing my mind completely. One of the joys of growing older is paying attention to your little victories. It’s so hard to give yourself credit for anything when you’re young. A lot of us were taught how to beat ourselves up from a very young age. We were supposed to keep doing that forever, like it was our job. Once you truly shake that off, you’re free. Then you surprise yourself with what you can do, what you can get through, what you can create and celebrate and enjoy. Even when life gets rough, you feel flexible and strong, like a ballerina or a rock climber. Noticing that and rejoicing in it is so important.

So many people these days see self-congratulation as almost immoral. It’s understandable, of course: We live on an overheated planet populated by preening billionaires and struggling poor people. But doing your best to fix this mess doesn’t have to include becoming a self-hating ghost. When you savor your body and mind, it makes you smarter and more generous and more prepared to fight for a better world.

It’s also more interesting. The culture is very boring right now, in my opinion. People want more. But it’s hard to tell if we’re about to turn the corner into a more delicious time or everything’s going to get even more moralistic and unforgiving and regressive. That’s the problem with guilt and self-abnegation—it curdles until it becomes punitive. Freedom and compassion for others begin with compassion for the self. 

Narratives about aging are so important. Even when women say “I feel invisible now,” I want to tell them, “If that bothers you, maybe try wearing something bright orange?” We’re all the authors of our own stories. A little self-delusion is good for you. For me, it’s all about combining pretty with ugly. I love a perfectly made-up face and a fucked up raggedy-ass sweater and some big boots. Experimenting with what makes you feel more like yourself is fun. Women weren’t designed to fade into the woodwork as they get older. Women improve by the hour. A big part of getting older, for me, is noticing that and celebrating it.  

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Heather Havrilesky writes the Ask Polly advice column on Substack and is the author of Foreverland: On the Divine Tedium of Marriage (Ecco, February 2022).