This is 70: Writer/Social Worker Kelly Thompson Responds to The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire
This is 70: Writer/Social Worker Kelly Thompson Responds to The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire
"I loved being 34. I loved being 64. I think I’m gonna love 74."
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, writer and social worker responds.
PS There are four new questions in this questionnaire! Next week, on my birthday, I’ll answer those, plus a fifth new quesition… -Sari Botton
’s essays, interviews, and poetry have appeared in Memoir Land, BOMB, LARB, Guernica, The Rumpus, Proximity, Fatal Flaw, Yoga Journal, and other literary magazines. She is the founding editor and curator of The Rumpus Original Column “Voices On Addiction”. Kelly is an LCSW who lives at the foot of the Rocky Mountains.
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How old are you?
70!
Is there another age you associate with yourself in your mind? If so, what is it? And why, do you think?
There was a summer day the year I was 10 that felt so magical I’ve never forgotten it. Everything was illuminated; the world glowed with a green shine. I spun in circles, and ran through the neighborhood, my feet barely touching the ground. I called out to my friends, siblings, and parents, “Look! Look! Everything is green!” I embodied the essence of joy, and I like to believe it is the truest expression of me.
For a long time, I associated myself with 34, maybe because I was so damn beautiful at that point in my life; I had turned a corner toward living from the inside out, and I embodied absolute joy because I knew I was on the adventure of a lifetime, one I’d dreamed of since childhood. By 34, I had embarked on a journey with my truest self. It was just the beginning, but it was a powerful one.
Lately, I’ve shifted toward more of an association with the age of 60 because it was a turning point into power and voice. David Bowie said, “Aging is an extraordinary process whereby you become the person you always should have been.” 60 was an explosion into who and what I was meant to be.
Lately, I’ve shifted toward more of an association with the age of 60 because it was a turning point into power and voice. David Bowie said, “Aging is an extraordinary process whereby you become the person you always should have been.” 60 was an explosion into who and what I was meant to be.
Do you feel old for your age? Young for your age? Just right? Are you in step with your peers?
Sometimes I see women my age and I’m shocked at their mannerisms and appearance. But I also see women that rock this age and older. I have friends of all ages, many younger.
Age is an attitude, no matter our bodies, so I’m out of step with stereotypes around aging, and any of my peers who seem to believe them. Ageism, of course, is internal. The inside matches the outside. Our feelings and beliefs about aging manifest.
I want to remain vital, curious, and engaged all my life which does not mean ignoring the limitations of my aging body but respecting and honoring them. I do not feel old for 70, but I do feel older than I ever have, because in the years since the pandemic hit, I started visibly aging.
Being isolated by the pandemic from 66 to turning 70 this year was challenging. I had some health scares and realized I needed to be conscientious in my self-care, so it was an opportunity to implement some wellness routines that are serving me. I am now transitioning into a new rendition of Kelly. I’m excited to morph into the badass side of my 70s.
What do you like about being your age?
Good question. I like the empowerment of aging, the coming into one’s own, the depth and width of experience, the tougher skin, the way things that used to throw me into a spiral roll off my back.
I like the view from here. It’s gorgeous.
I like – no, I LOVE – my body. What a beautiful thing it is; how well it’s served me. I wash my face at night, wash the day (and the years) away, and remember to be tender. I trust my body to know how to heal, to tell me what’s true, to guide me.
I want to remain vital, curious, and engaged all my life which does not mean ignoring the limitations of my aging body but respecting and honoring them. I do not feel old for 70, but I do feel older than I ever have, because in the years since the pandemic hit, I started visibly aging.
What is difficult about being your age?
In this transition into 70, my face has aged and though I’m adjusting, it kind of surprised me. I’ve always looked young, whatever my age. So, it caught me off guard. Oh wow! This is real. I’m going to get wrinkled and saggy. I can’t escape gravity. I started a daily skin care regime. I have never used any product on my face or body, so this is a first. It’s helping me take the corner into an older face; I like giving it some love and keeping it fresh.
Here’s the big one: DEATH. Yep. It’s on the horizon and no longer theoretical. I lost my mom three years ago, which also brought it home. How much time is left? There’s a lot of grappling and coming to terms with a lifetime. How have I done? What’s left undone?
Mostly, my sense of integrity keeps growing. My insides match my outsides. I’m fully human, which is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. To thine own self be true has been my North Star since 30 and it’s paying off.
Amazingly, the universe is now giving me affirmation and validation for the hard choices I’ve made along the way, despite loved ones, family, or others who still can’t understand my path or choices. It’s remarkable. And it’s teaching me to release any need for the understanding of others, and to trust myself. Yes, that’s the best part. I trust myself, back to the question, What do I like about being my age? That’s the BEST BEST BEST.
What is surprising about being your age, or different from what you expected, based on what you were told?
It started at 60 when all the fucks I gave were leaving (ha-ha) and I began to recognize I had just entered the most empowered stage of life ever. 50 was a difficult transition, mostly because you’re suddenly perceived as a real grownup, and kind of abruptly, you realize you’re on your own now. Whereas, when younger, you were given space and even indulged in mistakes, it seemed to me that came to a halt at 50.
Additionally, I had early menopause (at 44) and my body started turning matronly in my early 50s (that evens out later, so hang in there); it was the beginning of a kind of invisibility that has to do with the worshipping of sexuality in our culture as belonging to youth (it doesn’t). So I’d say the 50s was the hardest transition for me. At 60 I felt an inexplicable surge of personal power, confidence, and self-realization. That surprised me.
One other thing that’s surprising is that I don’t feel old in any sense of the word. I do notice my body changing, and though I don’t have the same physical endurance, I feel damn good!
In this transition into 70, my face has aged and though I’m adjusting, it kind of surprised me. I’ve always looked young, whatever my age. So, it caught me off guard. Oh wow! This is real. I’m going to get wrinkled and saggy. I can’t escape gravity. I started a daily skin care regime. I have never used any product on my face or body, so this is a first.
What has aging given you? Taken away from you?
Aging has given me the fruits of my living. It has taken my illusions and delusions away and redirected my ego into service. Loss is part of life; with aging, there is cumulative loss, but what I’ve learned is that the more loss I experience the more I love; love and loss go hand in hand. Every loss increases my capacity to love. Like my friend, Lidia says, “The heart is a muscle.” I am in awe of my heart today.
How has getting older affected your sense of yourself, or your identity?
This is the trick! Instead of letting age diminish me, I approach it as a transition into yet another form, a shapeshifting. I’m excited at 70 to embrace age in the same old rock and roll, badass, what’s left of a real cool chick way I’ve always lived.
As I said, the hardest hit I took was in my 50s. I floundered the entire decade, because I no longer had sex appeal as I understood it, the sexual power of youth and beauty. I didn’t know that sexual power was multi-dimensional, far beyond the limitations of youth and how this culture defines beauty. Think creativity, desire, and passion. Think of the sexual power of truly knowing and being centered in your Self.
I know who I am today, and I continue to expand and grow into myself.
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?
Oof. This one is a doozy. I became a mother at sixteen, a grandmother at thirty-four. I missed a senior prom. I missed going to college out of high school. Hell, I dropped out of high school to care for my kids; I had two and was a solo mama by the age of nineteen. None of my milestones have been in step with our culture’s expectations. I took the road less traveled. It will always be that way for me. I don’t feel anymore, at this age, like I missed out. Instead, I’m grateful for the path I took and the way I learned and where I ended up. From here on out, it’s all gravy.
Loss is part of life; with aging, there is cumulative loss, but what I’ve learned is that the more loss I experience the more I love; love and loss go hand in hand. Every loss increases my capacity to love. Like my friend, Lidia says, “The heart is a muscle.” I am in awe of my heart today.
What has been your favorite age so far, and why? Would you go back to this age if you could?
I have to say 61 was my favorite age so far. Between 60 and 65, though I underwent trial by fire in some parts of my life, I came into my own. I believed in and committed to my writing (I wanted to be a writer since the age of 6), started getting published, found writing community, and became an editor.
Would I go back? No. 60 got me to 70 and I can’t wait to see what’s ahead. I’m not excited about the possibility of physical decline and health issues, so instead of collapsing into age, I’ve taken it on myself to focus on being as healthy and active as I can one day at a time. It’s a lot of work, getting old! LOL.
Wanting to go backward in life is often tangled with remorse and regret, which are not options for me. Wanting to go backward in life just tells me I have more work to do and that I need to move into integrity.
That said, I loved being 34. I loved being 64. I think I’m gonna love 74.
Is there someone who is older than you, who makes growing older inspiring to you? Who is your aging idol and why?
Although all my tattoos are on the inside, I am obsessed with the Instagram account The Beauty of Ink and Aging @bodyart.dk
I am in love with ink and aging models! I share them in my stories daily. They give me something to aspire to, give me permission, and fit completely with my sense of self. I can embody my rock and roll, badass, what’s left of a real cool chick self no matter how old and wrinkled I get. At 60, I felt like I finally looked like myself for the first time in my life. Now that I’m 70 I’m just going to look even more like who I am.
As to an aging idol, I adore Frances McDormand. She gives no fucks.
What aging-related adjustments have you recently made, style-wise, beauty-wise, health-wise?
I added a skin care regime for the first time in my life, which I find hilarious. For the first time, I am slathering on sunscreen and wearing a hat. Too bad, I didn’t get that memo sooner, but it is what it is. I’m leaving my hair long and am doing gray blending. Haven’t decided whether to keep the red streak in my hair, change it up, or drop it. Now that I’ve wrapped my head around 70 and the next decade, I’m excited for the next rendition of me.
Health-wise, I detoxed off sugar in 2019, and started intermittent fasting a few years ago, which works great for me and gives me energy. I started supplements for the first time. And added a daily green smoothie to my day. I’m continuing to move away from processed foods and meat, and I walk at least three miles a day and ride my bike as often as I can.
I’ve developed a philosophy regarding my health that includes avoiding medication when possible. For example, I was diagnosed with osteoporosis two years ago, and rather than take the powerful drugs they prescribe for it, I increased my dietary calcium and walks and am adding strength training to my routine. My cholesterol was borderline high, and the doctors wanted to prescribe statins. I declined. The things I’m doing for my health brought down my cholesterol by eleven points without medication. I feel healthy and empowered to advocate for myself medically, which I believe is crucial.
I’m Covid cautious, so we dine outside only at restaurants, attend only outdoor events, avoid crowds, get vaccinated, purchased an air cleaner for our home, and mask when appropriate. I stay situationally aware.
Notice I haven’t described myself as retired. “Retirement” is a fallacy we don’t have to buy into as oldsters. Purpose and passion keep us young.
My biggest regret, if I have one, is how, as a young single mother, I failed my daughters in ways. My girls were 13 and 11 when I got sober. My drinking and using started when I was 15 and I became a mother at 16. I was 30 before I chose a sober lifestyle and recovery. But ultimately my recovery served my daughters well. They are amazing, phenomenal women.
What’s an aging-related adjustment you refuse to make, and why?
I refuse to go through all my stuff (three thousand books!) and boxes of junk, clothes, old journals, etc. But seriously, I procrastinate on end of life and burial arrangements. My husband and I have this on our list of priorities, but I keep procrastinating because there’s so many other things I’d rather do.
What turn of events had the biggest impact on your life? What took your life in a different direction, for better or worse?
Getting pregnant at 16. Rebelling as a teenager against the fundamentalist high control religious group I was born into and leaving the family traditions. Raising kids as a young single mother. Becoming a grandmother at 34. Getting a job as a radio broadcaster at 23 and becoming a rock and roll music director and DJ. Getting sober at age 30. Going to college and graduate school in my late 30s. Being faced with the relinquishment of grandchildren to adoption, and navigating an ongoing connection, serving as a bridge to reunification with their mother. Getting married for the third time at 45 and staying married. (We just celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary.) Three major moves: from Colorado to Southern California at age 39. Moving to Alaska from SoCal at age 50 then back to Colorado at 56. All beautiful places.
As my mother used to say, “Your life has been many things, but it’s never been boring.”
What is your number one regret in life? If you could do it all over again, what is the biggest thing you’d do differently?
My biggest regret, if I have one, is how, as a young single mother, I failed my daughters in ways. My girls were 13 and 11 when I got sober. My drinking and using started when I was 15 and I became a mother at 16. I was 30 before I chose a sober lifestyle and recovery. But ultimately my recovery served my daughters well. They are amazing, phenomenal women.
I broke the cycle, so why regret that I didn’t know how to parent better or have more knowledge and awareness until beginning at 30? That’s solid. Still, I know it was hard on my daughters to grow up with absent fathers and a young and wild mama. I worked hard and provided for them, but I was emotionally immature.
All parents, but especially teen parents, can’t help but see in the rear-view mirror how differently they might have parented if they’d had the wisdom gained with age and experience. Given my circumstances, I’m proud of myself. I chose transformation, healing, and growth.
I come from a story that gave me little choice. If women (and girls) were empowered and had true bodily autonomy and agency, we would live in a different world. Some hard, hard things were thrown at me, and I made the best of them.
There’s a scene in the movie “The Matrix,” where a character is offered a choice between a red pill, which reveals the true world, and a blue pill, which keeps it hidden. I took the red pill. That’s what matters.
What is high up on your “bucket list?” What do you hope to achieve, attain, or plain enjoy before you die?
I have had this goal to finish writing my memoir in progress. Realistically, though, it’s more like the book has been writing me. I feel that ambition loosening, and I realize that the outcome is not as important as I’ve made it. There’s an alchemy to writing that has been transformative for me. It’s a vehicle and a portal.
I started a Substack newsletter, There’s Nothing Wrong With You (And There Never Was), that kicked off in early July and have almost three hundred subscribers already. It is the perfect venue for me. I love that I’m writing for my subscribers and that most of them read my twice-monthly posts. There’s something about this venue. I’m new to it, so we’ll see. And the “book” is not going anywhere.
I plain enjoy writing. I love life. I enjoy working with and mentoring a few amazing women. I have lived A LIFE. There’s not much I haven’t done. I enjoy my days. I enjoy aging with my best friend, my husband Wayne. Our home is our sanctuary. Nature, good food, good company. I like a simple life today.
The hardest hit I took was in my 50s. I floundered the entire decade, because I no longer had sex appeal as I understood it, the sexual power of youth and beauty. I didn’t know that sexual power was multi-dimensional, far beyond the limitations of youth and how this culture defines beauty. Think creativity, desire, and passion. Think of the sexual power of truly knowing and being centered in your Self.
Is there a piece of advice you were given, that you live by? If so, what was it, and who offered it to you?
I met an angel in the early years of my sobriety whose name was Richard. Richard taught me a few things about relationships and dating (he pointed to his charming and handsome blue eyes, smiled, and said, “Dime a dozen. Dime a dozen,” about looking for a father substitute (don’t), and said the worst thing that ever happened to me was that I was made to doubt myself. I wish I could tell Richard how I trust myself now and thank him.
Lidia Yuknavitch has taught me many things; primarily that “I’m not the story you made of me.” I love her so much. Lidia, too, helped me learn to trust myself. I learned from her that one person’s belief in you can change your life.
A decade ago, when I was conflicted about whether to commit to writing, or to continue developing my therapy practice as an LCSW, my late spiritual mentor and Twelve Step sponsor, Gary D., read a sample of my writing, threw the pages down on a coffee table, and said, “This is your calling.” Gary gave me permission to follow the dream I’d had since I was 6 years old to be a writer. He saw me. Gary also taught me to trust myself, To thine own self be true. He would say “My sobriety is littered with dead bodies.” Sometimes we must leave others behind, no matter how much we love them, to fully grow into who and what we were made to be.
What’s your philosophy on celebrating birthdays as an adult? How do you celebrate yours?
My best birthday celebrations happened the year I turned 65 and 69. My youngest daughter Jennifer flew out with my granddaughter Hannah and surprised me by showing up at the restaurant my husband, who was in on the surprise, took me to. She gave me this incredible book, I LOVE YOU MOM AND HERE’S WHY, that no gift will ever top and she, Hannah, and I went to Manitou Springs for the weekend. Then last year, when I turned 69, my oldest daughter, Shawna, flew out to spend dedicated time with me and took me to Red Rocks to see The Head and The Heart. The best two birthdays of my life.
Since nothing can top those two days, my philosophy on celebrating birthdays as an adult at this stage of life is meh. No biggie. I used to love my birthday because I grew up without Christmas (it was against our religion) but my mother always did birthdays up big. But now, they’re just another day. No need to mark time anymore. Every day is a gift.
"I like – no, I LOVE – my body. What a beautiful thing it is; how well it’s served me. I wash my face at night, wash the day (and the years) away, and remember to be tender. I trust my body to know how to heal, to tell me what’s true, to guide me."
"Trust" seems to be the through line in this beautifully written piece. Just turned 71, in the past four years have lost three of the closest women in my life, and am trying to navigate the future through a forward-looking prism. Grief often weighs me down. Trying to remember trusting myself is key to living and loving life one day at a time. It would be so easy to wallow in self-pity and take on the woe is me mentality. Your relatable words touched me. Thank you for some prescient reminders. Here's to aging well!
"I like the view from here. It’s gorgeous." Here's to Kelly, and the wide-open, hair-blown-back, true to herself life she's lived and is still living. I, too, have felt palpably older since I turned 60 almost seven years ago. And, like her, I've leaned into my own power, self-realization, and presence--and started letting some things go. Seen from that vantage point, life is amazing!