This is 54: Author Elizabeth Gilbert Responds to The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire

"I bought some clippers and took off all my hair, and I stopped messing with my face...I look more like myself than I have ever looked. Because when I look in the mirror, I see someone who is FREE."

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, celebrated bestselling author

Elizabeth Gilbert

responds. -Sari Botton

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P.S. A reminder that in my book, everyone who is alive and aging is considered an Oldster, and that every contributor to this magazine is the oldest they have ever been, which is interesting new territory for them—and interesting to me, the 58-year-old who publishes this.

When you see a piece featuring someone younger than you, try to remember when you were that age and how monumental it felt. Bring some curiosity to reading about how the person being featured is experiencing that age. Or, if you prefer, wait for the next piece featuring someone in your age group. Not every piece will speak to every reader. I’m doing my best to cover a lot of ground and to foster intergenerational conversation. Please work with me.

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Elizabeth Gilbert at 54, with her newly shorn head, in Costa Rica.

Elizabeth Gilbert is the author of multiple books of fiction and non-fiction, including EAT PRAY LOVE, BIG MAGIC, THE SIGNATURE OF ALL THINGS, and CITY OF GIRLS. Her TED Talk on creativity is one of the twenty most watched TED Talks of all time, and Time Magazine named her as one of the 100 Most Influential People in the World. She is the creator of the

Letters From Love with Elizabeth Gilbert

newsletter on Substack, and the founder of The Onward Book Club.

How old are you?

54

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

It depends on how the day is going. I usually feel like I’m 34 — which is the age at which my life started to turn around (after my first divorce) and I really came into being as myself. On heavy days, I feel like I’m a thousand grim years old, but that’s not so much anymore. At my very best moments, I feel like I’m 9 — which was the most free I ever felt in my body and spirit, before puberty started attacking me and kind of ruined everything.  (At least until menopause saved me again!)

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

I feel physically young, but not like those people who take ice baths all day and do intermittent fasting and have 0.5% body fat and will never die. I just feel like I have pretty much the same energy I had twenty years ago, even though some items in and on my body have definitely shifted during flight. A good deal of this sense of youthfulness is inherited from my family, not only in terms of being lucky with health, but in an assumption that you can stay vibrant for a long, long time.

I love that I have gathered so much expertise about how to do my job (writing books) that nothing about it really scares me anymore. I feel completely relaxed in my own mastery as a creator, which I earned through a lot of hard work and focus. I can own that — and I love owning it.

My grandfather bought himself a team of oxen as an 80^th birthday present for himself, and spent years training them and driving them for fun. My dad and mom just turned 80, and they still run a Christmas tree farm, and go for epic walks in the woods every day. My mom scared away a bear recently by telling it to fuck off, and throwing a stick at it. When I hear people describe 60, 70, 80, or even 90 years of age as “old” that doesn’t track with what I watched growing up. So I can keep deluding myself, I think, that I’m far younger than I am.

Order Elizabeth Gilbert’s books.

What do you like about being your age?

I love that I get to call people “honey” and “sweetheart.” I love that I have gathered so much expertise about how to do my job (writing books) that nothing about it really scares me anymore. I feel completely relaxed in my own mastery as a creator, which I earned through a lot of hard work and focus. I can own that — and I love owning it.  I love that I had a hysterectomy recently, so I don’t bleed anymore, which is amazing, and which totally changed my life — making me feel younger than I had felt in my body since I was in Fifth Grade. I love that I have friends who are twenty years younger than me, and friends who are twenty years older than me, and I feel like we are all the same age. I love that I can’t be as flattered anymore by sexual attention from anyone, because I’m not that interested, and I know that getting obsessed with someone will just take me out of myself, and I don’t want that anymore. I love that I’m financially and physically independent, and that I can enjoy what I’ve built — but I don’t feel hungry anymore in a wildly ambitious way. I love that I have learned how to say no to people, and to understand that they will survive their disappointment, just as I can survive my disappointment when people say no to me. I love this age more than any I have yet experienced. We’re in a good vibe right now.

I love that I have learned how to say no to people, and to understand that they will survive their disappointment, just as I can survive my disappointment when people say no to me.

What is difficult about being your age?

I’m starting to get these weird floaters in my eyes, that make it seems like ants are drifting across my field of vision, and it’s a bit harder to lose that belly chub. Sometimes I look at myself when I get out of the shower and I’m like: “REALLY? This is my body now?” The way my body looks doesn’t seem to match how I feel. But that’s not a big problem. It’s just a vanity thing, and I feel less vain now than I ever have before. And, of course, the floaters in my eyes make it difficult to see the wrinkles on my ass! HA! (My dad gave me a great tip: “Never look in the mirror with your glasses on after 50. You won’t like what I see.”) I can’t think of anything else that’s a problem, and even this stuff isn’t really a problem. I’m fond of myself. I really like it here, in my mid-fifties.

Elizabeth Gilbert at 9, with her dog.

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

Oh my god, where do we begin? You have to understand that I grew up with women who were housewives and farmwives. By the time they were in their 50s, they were OLD LADIES. And to their credit, they embraced it. I don’t come from a family of vain women; they were sensible and modest women, and they didn’t try to be any younger than they were. They let their hair go grey, got it permed, wore certain kinds of holiday sweaters, did a lot of crafting, volunteered at the church. They looked — but more important: seemed — about 30 years older than me and my contemporaries appear to be now.

I got married young and was fully on that same path, till I got divorced and decided not to have children, and committed to being a creator, a traveler, a spiritual seeker of a different sort. But when I was in my 20s, I fully believed that I would be a staid middle aged farm wife by the time I was 50, waiting for her grandchildren. Instead, I’m living the same life I loved so much thirty years ago — a life of exploration and adventure and creativity. Last year I spent about five months in Central America, banging about the jungle in a jeep with one of my best friends, who is my same age and is still absolutely wild. We are both childless and without partners, and therefore it was such a joyful time — a time of absolute freedom.

I’m back in Costa Rica as I’m typing this, learning Spanish and hiking in the cloud forest. It’s great. I had been taught by my family and culture that there is nothing more tragic than a single, childless, middle-aged woman. But as someone who has now been twice-divorced and once widowed, I am amazed by how great it is to be on my own, to live alone, to travel alone, to chart my own course in life without having to run it by anyone. It’s the fucking bomb. I never met any woman who was like me when I was a kid. They were all deeply responsible housewives, who took care of everyone, and had precious little time for themselves. If I had someone like me, I feel certain I never would have married at all.

I had been taught by my family and culture that there is nothing more tragic than a single, childless, middle-aged woman. But as someone who has now been twice-divorced and once widowed, I am amazed by how great it is to be on my own, to live alone, to travel alone, to chart my own course in life without having to run it by anyone. It’s the fucking bomb.

What has aging given you? Taken away from you?

Aging has given me wisdom, independence, financial independence, sobriety, freedom, dozens of tools for handling the chaos of my mind and of the world. Aging has given me access to a God who is very much of my own understanding, and we love each other deeply and talk all day long.

Aging has taken away from me the need to have someone attached to me romantically, in order to think that I am OK. And it has taken away most of my terror that I will die if you don’t like me. You don’t have to like me — that’s cool. I get it. I don’t like everyone, either. A friend and I who are the same age always say, whenever someone decides to dislike us or disapprove of us: “That’s alright. They just don’t want our magic.” And then we move on. I could not have done this twenty years ago.

Aging has also taken away my need to perform certain family rituals and cultural traditions that I don’t enjoy, or find comfortable anymore. This is my second Thanksgiving that I’ve spent traveling with a friend instead of being with my family of origin. I would rather visit my family when it isn’t a holiday — it’s so much more relaxing. I was able to tell everyone that, and to liberate myself from those obligations. Aging has given me space, in many realms, not to over-react when I don’t get my way, or when people act crazy.

Life has taught me that things tend to shake out, if you can be cool for two minutes and try to not freak out. Aging has taught me how to respond, not to react — and sober, intelligent responses can take weeks or even years to formulate. That’s ok. Weirdly, I feel like I have far more time now than I did when I was in my twenties, when everything was insanely urgent.

Order Elizabeth Gilbert’s books.

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

Like I said earlier, I feel comfortable here. I shaved my head recently because I wanted to do it. I’ve been dreaming for years of not having to deal with hair anymore. I was looking around at all these dudes my age, and I realized that they all had super easy, super cool, buzz cuts — and that they all looked great. I was at a meeting recently with all these men and women my age, and all the men had short or buzz-cut hair and all the women had longer, fussed-over, expensive-looking, fake hair — just like mine. I was looking around the room thinking, “Are we seriously still doing this? Who made up these gendered hair rules, and why are we still abiding by them?” I realized that if I were a 54-year-old man, I would’ve buzzed my hair off years earlier, and my life would be simpler and less expensive for not having to keep up the fancy blonde lady hair I’ve worn for decades. Around that same time, I also saw something online where they took magazine covers of famous guys in their 50s and 60s and photoshopped them just as they would have to do, had it been a woman of the same age. I know this kind of stuff gets talked about all the time, but something about seeing those cool dudes airbrushed to lose all their wrinkles, in order to make a point about the difference in male and female beauty and aging standards, really pissed me off.

I never met any woman who was like me when I was a kid. They were all deeply responsible housewives, who took care of everyone, and had precious little time for themselves. If I had someone like me, I feel certain I never would have married at all.

Of course the men looked younger in the re-touched photos, but they didn’t look BETTER. The men looked way better with all the original lines in their faces and their buzz-cut hair. I was like: “Well, shit, why can’t I do that?” I hesitated for a while (and kept getting my hair dyed and straightened, in the meantime, and doing Botox) because I had some lingering fear of not being pretty anymore, or how I would come across in professional settings or when I do speaking events. But then I thought: “If I can’t do this—if I can’t be as free as any man my age—what woman can?” Because I have more freedom than almost any woman I know. I have no partner to please, no kids to embarrass, no boss to appease, no asses I have to kiss to make my money — and yet I still have to care about these idiotic beauty standards, that are so random and stupid and boring and played out? No. No more.

So I said: fuck it. I bought some clippers and took off all my hair, and I also stopped messing with my face. And I love it. I think I look gorgeous. I think I look more like myself than I have ever looked in my life. Because when I look in the mirror, I see a woman who looks FREE. And I never met any free women, growing up. And that, I believe, is my final destination in this incarnation: True and total freedom.

Elizabeth Gilbert before she buzzed her hair off.

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?

My life has drifted so far away from the cultural expectations in my family and culture of origin that I have lost track of what I am supposed to be doing anymore, and at what age. What I do look forward to, however, is becoming even more mentally and spiritually free. I came into 12-step recovery about five years ago and got physically and emotionally sober — and that has changed my life enormously. As I continue to work the steps in multiple recovery programs, my life becomes both more manageable and more joyful, and as I clean up the wreckage of my past, my excitement about the future only grows. I keep hearing a voice in my head that says, “The second half of your life doesn’t have to look anything like the first half of your life. The first half was bound; the second half is free.” Free, free, ever more free. Free from my own distorted thinking, free from any lingering shame and fear and resentments, free from expectations. This what I look forward to.

In many ways, I feel that I have gone back now to being that 9-year-old girl…In some cultures, I have read, post-menopausal women call these years “second childhood” — and I get it. It’s really good to be back to that level of freedom.

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

I loved being 9 years old. And I love being around 9-year-olds — they are brilliant and engaged and funny and smart and super cool, and they are into all the same stuff I’m into. Years ago, after hanging out for the weekend with a fantastic 9-year-old girl, I said to her mom, “This is the only time in my life when I think I might have made a mistake not to have children — when I get to spend days drawing and singing and laughing and watching movies and hanging out with a 9-year-old. It’s just so much fun!” And my friend replied, “Liz, just so you know — moms don’t actually do all that stuff with their kids. We have to do all the boring mom stuff. You don’t want to HAVE a 9-year-old child, Liz, you want to BE a 9-year-old child.” She was absolutely right.

In many ways, I feel that I have gone back now to being that girl. I got waylaid for a few decades there because I was obsessed with sex and romance and boys and men — but now I feel like I just get to be the same person I was in Fourth Grade: A really smart and creative girl who had fun friends and got to make cool stuff and didn’t carry a ton of anxiety about anything. In some cultures, I have read, post-menopausal women call these years “second childhood” — and I get it. It’s really good to be back to that level of freedom.

Order Elizabeth Gilbert’s books.

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

My grandparents on both sides were titans of aging. My maternal grandmother lived to 102, and died never having been on any medication at all. (She was FURIOUS when they put her in a nursing home at 98 because she kept falling down in the garden.) The last time I saw my paternal grandfather before he died, he was throwing around forty-pound hay bales in a barn, and yelling at me to stop staring at him in wonder and start helping him work. My great-grandfather lived to almost 100, eating hot sausages and drinking a shit-ton of bourbon and smoking cigars the whole time. Of course he was also a rage-a-holic, but his explosive temper didn’t seem to shave any years off his life. My family has mental illnesses and addiction issues up the wazoo, but physically? They are unstoppable. So I see it as my job to keep my head on straight, to tend to my mental health, and to stay sober — and I should be OK.

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

(see above, about buzzed hair)

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

We’ll see how it goes, but right now I feel like I won’t stop living alone, working alone, and traveling alone (when I feel like it) until someone forces me to do so by court order.

I keep hearing a voice in my head that says, “The second half of your life doesn’t have to look anything like the first half of your life. The first half was bound; the second half is free.” Free, free, ever more free. Free from my own distorted thinking, free from any lingering shame and fear and resentments, free from expectations. This what I look forward to.

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

I don’t come from a family who is big on birthdays, so it’s not a giant deal for me. But I’ll share this — I did have the greatest year of celebrations, the year I turned 50. I decided that instead of having a big party, I would take each one of my favorite friends on a trip, individually, at some point throughout the year, doing something that she, specifically, would love. I went to Mexico with my best friend from childhood; I went to Amsterdam with another friend; I went to Fire Island for a few weeks with another friend and her kids; I soaked in hot springs in Big Sur with another friend; and I hiked along the Brittany coast of France with yet another friend.

It was the best thing I could’ve done — just to devote time to being with these incredible women who I love so dearly, spending time in places that are beautiful, for longer periods of time than just “meeting for lunch.”  I joked a lot that year that I will apparently never have a thirty-year marriage, but I definitely have thirty-year friendships. My friends are my ongoing birthday present. They are my family, my loved ones, my history, my ride-or-dies. The gift of them never ends.

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Looking for holiday gifts? A reminder that there’s Oldster merch, and some great reader suggestions, in The Oldster Magazine (Crowd-Sourced) Holiday Gift Guide.