Maybe aging doesn't have to suck
Why I'm no longer dreading getting older.
My birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks. I'll be 35. Neither young nor old. Suspended somewhere in between. A plateau before the descent.
Birthdays aren’t what they used to be. Back in my teens and 20s, each passing year symbolized greater independence and possibility. In my 30s, birthdays have become a reminder of how fleeting everything is. Each year introduces a bit more anxiety, a few more worries about my body’s inevitable decline, the gradual erosion of the very independence I once celebrated.
My first impressions of aging were shaped by visiting grandparents in nursing homes and hospital beds. The medicinal scent wafting through the air, the forced cheerfulness we all maintained to distract from death’s proximity. The elderly people who avoided those places didn’t seem much better off, confined to their homes, dependent on family visits and phone calls for connection, occasionally driving to the mall to walk for exercise, otherwise shut away from a world that had long moved on without them.
It all looked pretty miserable, honestly. Certainly nothing I would ever look forward to. Hence, the increased anxiety with each passing year. But living abroad these past six months has begun to slowly shift my perspective. As I approach 35, an age I once considered the halfway point after witnessing other men in my family pass away around 70, the birthday dread has softened.
Last weekend I took the bus from Lisbon to Porto. I was seated next to an older Portuguese woman, likely in her 70s. Over the course of the three-hour ride, she berated the younger woman sitting in front of her twice for leaning back in her seat, made several phone calls (speaking loudly enough for everyone on the bus to be intimately aware of her weekend plans) and requested a restroom pitstop from the driver, who immediately obliged despite the onboard toilet.
Nobody batted an eye, not even the scolded young woman. I didn’t either. Six months ago, I probably would have. But it doesn’t take long living in a country like Portugal to realize that elders play by a different set of rules than everyone else.
When they stroll down the sidewalk, passersby part like the Red Sea, stepping off into the street if necessary to ensure the path is clear. I’ve been openly cut in line by elderly shoppers on multiple occasions at the supermarket, unbeknownst to me that queuing was something you age out of. One of the first phrases I learned in my Portuguese course was “O senhor/a senhora quer sentar-se aqui?”, which is spoken before offering up your seat to a senior citizen on the bus or train.
I don’t look forward to cashing in on this reverence when I’m older. I don’t dream about cutting in line to buy groceries or scolding young people for not showing me the utmost respect. But the contrast has still been refreshing after years of watching elderly people seemingly vanish after their working years, often left to wind out the clock in retirement or assisted living communities. Out of sight, out of mind.
The sheer volume of older people I encounter here everywhere, every day has been striking. I see them walking up and down the street in my neighborhood to the market, to their next appointment, dressed impeccably as if every day deserves their Sunday best. I see them living independently despite increasing mobility challenges. I sometimes feel guilty watching them slowly navigate the sidewalk with grocery bags in tow. My American instincts kick in. Shouldn’t they be at home? Shouldn’t someone else be running these errands on their behalf? Then I realize how much this independence probably means to them, how daily movement is likely keeping them sane, keeping them strong.
I realize this impulse to keep them safely indoors isn’t actually about their welfare; it’s about avoiding uncomfortable reminders of my own future.
But being confronted by elderly people every day, actually observing their lives, has shattered my biggest misconception: that aging has to suck.
Their social lives are more vibrant than most thirty-somethings I know. Every morning, elderly friends gather at the quiosque for coffee and conversation, catching up on neighborhood gossip, bickering at times. Every afternoon, a group of men in their 70s and 80s claim their spots in the park for highly competitive card games that stretch on for hours. I’m sure they all look forward to calls and visits from their children and grandchildren like anyone their age would, but their lives appear so much bigger than that. They have community, not just family, and they typically live near cafes, plazas, and other third places, allowing their social connections to flourish.
The respect for elders goes beyond culture. It’s systemic, too. Here, growing old doesn't come with the same fear of looming medical bills. An ambulance ride won't bankrupt you. A hospital stay won't saddle your family with crushing debt. Healthcare is accessible and affordable, not a luxury reserved for those who can pay. As a result, people are living longer, healthier lives, surviving into their 80s on average.
Here, people are aging with their dignity intact, their independence preserved not just by cultural respect, but by systems designed to support them through every stage of life.
Meanwhile, back in the States, Americans owe over $220 billion in medical debt, politicians debate cuts to Social Security, and there appears to be very little urgency to address one of the lowest life expectancy rates among developed nations.
I also realize Portugal is merely a step in the right direction on the spectrum, not some utopia for elderly people. If it were, more would be done to curb the housing crisis pricing them out of their homes. If it were, there wouldn’t be hundreds of excess deaths during heatwaves. There are cultures outside of the Western world that show much greater deference to elders. Capitalist countries, even ones with more of a social safety net, will likely always fall short of giving elderly people the respect and dignity they deserve because the market is rarely incentivized to protect non-working populations.
Still, a step in the right direction has been perspective-altering. Enough so to reduce some of my anxiety about aging. Getting older will come with challenges regardless of where I live, but here, I’ve seen that aging doesn’t have to suck.
If I’m fortunate enough to call Portugal home for the remainder of my days (which is my intention, although life and immigration can be unpredictable), I look forward to maintaining my independence and social life, posting up at the quiosque, savoring simple pleasures up until the very end. It’s comforting to know I won’t be one fall or illness away from financial ruin. Having people clear the sidewalks as I stroll through the neighborhood like royalty might grow on me, too.
Rather than surrendering to the usual birthday dread, I'm throwing a big party in a couple of weeks. A friend shares the same birthday, so we're combining celebrations. It’s something I would have avoided in recent years, taking cues from older adults in my life who always seemed embarrassed by their aging, deflecting with self-deprecating jokes about being washed up.
I very much like being 34. I’d stay here longer if I could. But Father Time is undefeated, so I’m slowly making peace with another year biting the dust. Watching elderly Portuguese people move through their days with purpose and dignity has helped. I look forward to following their lead one day.
So this year, I'm celebrating. And when I toast, it won’t just be to surviving another year, but to the possibility that the decades ahead might be far richer, far more fulfilling than I once thought possible.
I think some of this is down to infrastructure too. If you live in a walkable, dense environment you can keep up with your day-to-day more so than if you are stranded in sprawl somewhere and no longer able to drive. And, I've also noticed part of the infrastructure here is the existence of non-emergency ambulances (more like vans) that pick up elderly people for their doctors' appointments.
From the moment we draw our first breaths we are aging. We all come with expiration dates, yet we can rarely know precisely when they will arrive. So in the meantime, what will we choose to do with this opportunity of consciousness in human form? You have chosen to live in a place where you get to see how some are going about living out those choices. In ways that sometimes are quite different from whence you came. It’s so cool to see, through your eyes, how you are processing that!