The Philosophy of Aging: Why I’m Not Afraid of getting older.

As a child, I remember looking forward to adulthood with a sparkle in my eyes. I thought adults had it all figured out. That growing older meant becoming wiser, more confident, and in control of life. Probably one of the biggest collective disappointments of humanity is realizing that adulthood is mostly just improvisation. Most people are winging it! Copying societal patterns or doing their best to follow a script they didn’t write.

It didn’t hit me all at once. It came in waves. I saw friends have kids in their twenties while I was still wondering what I wanted to do next year. I always felt like I was somehow doing life differently, not because I was trying to rebel, but because I just allowed life to happen to me. I let it unfold. I didn’t cling too hard to plans or expectations. I just stayed open to the adventure.

And that’s why turning 34 doesn’t feel like a crisis to me.

To be clear – I know I’m still young. My body is healthy. I have no injuries or illnesses. But I also know myself well enough to notice change. And I feel it mostly in my energy. A softness creeping in. A slower pace. Not worse, just different.

I’m not claiming to know what it feels like to age in a broader sense. I know I’m just at the beginning of it. But I do notice the early signals. And I’m learning how to meet them with presence instead of resistance.

I’ve participated in the Botox culture. I’ve had my forehead done before. For a while, I thought it was empowering. And maybe it was, in its own way. But over time, it didn’t feel aligned with me anymore. I haven’t done it in a long time. That’s a personal choice. I genuinely don’t care if others do it – everyone walks their own path, and I celebrate that. What matters is that we listen to ourselves.

I know women who feared turning 30, or 35. For them, those ages marked decline – a loss of youth, a ticking biological clock, and the sense that time was running out. For me, it’s the opposite. I feel like I’m just getting started. I feel childlike in the best way – not immature, but open. Curious. Still learning. Still shaping. Still dancing with life.

But aging is complex. It’s layered. There’s the emotional part, the societal expectations, the spiritual beliefs, and then the physical body – and each layer comes with its own set of paradoxes.

The Societal Script

People love to remind you of what you “should” have done by a certain age:

• “You’re not married? Are you afraid of commitment?”
• “No kids yet? You know you’re not getting any younger.”

It’s funny to me how marriage is still seen as proof of commitment when I know people in long-term, deeply committed relationships who’ve never had a wedding. Including myself. I’ve been with my partner for nine years. Our bond is stronger than any paper could declare.

As for kids, I believe it’s one of the most serious responsibilities a person can take on. So why rush it? I trust that when the time is right, it will be clear. Until then, no – we’re not “trying.” And yes, we’re aware of biology.

But here’s a thought: Maybe no soul has picked us yet. Maybe the soul that will become our child is still waiting for alignment. And maybe that’s sacred, too.

The Physical Confrontation

This is the part no one prepares you for. Skin changes. Muscles soften. Hands and necks start to tell stories that used to be invisible. You look in the mirror and something has shifted.

It can be jarring.

And then there’s the cultural obsession with youth. A booming industry built around reversing time. Botox. Fillers. Hair dye. Serums. Facelifts. We’re encouraged to linger in a version of our old self instead of embracing the new.

Like I said, I’ve been there. And I might still feel pulled by it now and then. But I’m learning how to return to myself. To let go of the need to stay frozen in time. I want to live in the body I have, not in the memory of one I used to have.

I want to look how I feel. Not younger, but real.

The Spiritual Perspective

I don’t take existence too seriously. I’m just grateful to be here.

But I do believe in some form of destiny. Or maybe soul contracts. I believe we choose our parents, not randomly, but for the lessons and love and challenges they bring. And maybe one day, a soul will choose me, when the time is right.

That kind of thinking helps me trust life. Flow with it. Surrender to it. Because when I live in alignment with my truth and my values, I don’t need to control everything. Life unfolds.

The Illusion of Control

Biohacking. Longevity. Metabolic age. Everyone wants to feel younger than they are. And who can blame them? The idea of being 90 and feeling 60 sounds amazing. No injuries. No stiffness. No aches. Just energy and presence.

But again, are we trying to cheat destiny?

Maybe. Or maybe we’re just afraid of losing relevance.

I think many people don’t fear aging as much as they fear not participating in something meaningful anymore. The deeper fear isn’t being forgotten. No, it’s becoming disconnected from the greater good, the flow of culture, the sense of mattering.

Still Learning about the philosophy of aging

I’m not writing this because I have it all figured out.

I’m writing it because I’m trying to understand it. Because I’m still in it. Because I believe life is a learning process, not a conclusion.

I’m content with what I know now. But I’m also open to changing. Evolving. Seeing it all differently tomorrow.

I don’t think aging is something to fear. It’s something to witness. To allow. To grow into.

I want to grow older the way a tree does—with roots that go deeper every year, and branches that reach further into the unknown.

And yes, with a few more lines on my face.

Let them be signs that I lived. Let them be proof that I showed up. Let them be my silent wisdom, carved into skin.