I want to go a little deeper into our desire for certainty in our lives. And how we can ease the extra pain we can add to what’s already hard.
There’s an idea I keep coming back to, called the two arrows. The first arrow is what happens and how it hurts, like a sore knee, a loss or a fear. The second is what we add on top, like fighting it, pretending it isn’t there, or being hard on ourselves.
Why It’s So Hard to Age Honestly
“Don’t get upset. It’ll be alright. You’re strong, you’ll get through this.”
I hear some version of this often. From my mum, friends, and other women in my life. I’ve said it too. It usually comes from love, often with a hand on the arm.
Still, something in me sinks a little. It’s not that it’s unkind. It just ends the conversation and whatever I was about to say stays unsaid.
If I’m honest, I often let it happen. I say, “I know, I’ll be fine,” and then we move on.
That isn’t ageing honestly. Ageing honestly means saying what’s really going on, even when it’s hard to say and hear.
I’ve been thinking about why it’s so hard to age honestly, even when we want to. I think there are two reasons: what we were taught and how we’re built.
In this Article:
What many of us were taught
Don’t make a fuss. Put everyone else first. Self-care is selfish. Be strong, be grateful, be easy to have around.
Many of us learned these rules young, and we learned them well. Nobody sat us down and said, “hide your feelings.”
It came through the everyday interactions we had. We got approval for coping, for being the strong one, for being a good girl who didn’t say what she really felt.
We became very good at it. So, when we’re not coping and need help it can feel like we’re losing that approval. And when we speak our mind, there’s that voice in our head says “Don’t say that, you’ll upset them.”
When our knee or hip gives out or we get a bad diagnosis, we worry about becoming a burden. We know what to do, we sweep it under the carpet.
When we feel that someone has treated us badly we say nothing and lie awake replaying it. We know what to do, we sweep it under the carpet.
That’s also why it’s hard to push back when someone says, “you’re strong.” It’s a nice thing to hear, and the person means well. But sometimes, “you’re strong” quietly means, “you don’t need to talk about it.”
How we’re built
The second reason is how we’re built. We’re wired to move away from what’s unpleasant and toward what’s comfortable. That’s not a flaw. It’s how we’ve kept ourselves safe for a long time. If your hand touches something hot, you pull it back and feel better right away
The problem is, this doesn’t work with the pain that stays, whether it’s physical or emotional. You can pull your hand back from a hot stove and feel better. But pulling away from a sore knee, a loss, or that unsettling fear of becoming a burden only helps for a moment. The pain is still there, waiting. And getting older brings more than its share of moments like these.
Plenty of things also promise to help us feel better quickly. Anti-ageing says we can do something about the hard parts of ageing if we buy this or do that.
Pro-ageing says it’s all a gift. Both sound better than facing a painful knee or the fear we’ll be a burden in the future. I get the appeal of both, they’re seductive. But both are just ways of looking away.
Why sweeping only works for a while
So we keep sweeping things away. For a while, it works. The conversation moves on, dinner gets made, and the day ends.
But those feelings don’t really disappear. They wait. They appear as a heaviness in the stomach, a short temper, or a dull afternoon.
The sore knee, the loss, and the fear are the first arrow. Sweeping them away is the second. The carpet gets lumpy, and one day, we trip over it.
Say thank you, then stay with it.
Here’s a short practice for the next time someone says, “You’re strong, you’ll get through this.”
You don’t have to disagree. You can say thank you, because they mean well. Then quietly tell yourself the rest: I am strong and it hurts.
Later, when you have a calm moment, even just a few minutes with a cup of tea, let yourself feel it a little longer than usual. This is the hard part, so here’s what I do.
I ask myself where the sensations of the feeling are in my body. Not the thoughts I’m having, but the feeling itself. Maybe it’s a tightness in my chest, a soreness in my throat, or a stiff neck. Then I name it: sad, scared, annoyed, embarrassed that I’m still bothered. For me, naming it takes away some of the intensity.
Then I stay with it. Not for long, a minute is enough to start.
What I notice is usually this: the feeling rises, it’s uncomfortable, and then it eases a bit. It doesn’t go away, but it feels less urgent. Often, what makes it hard to sit with a feeling is the fear it will get bigger and never stop. In my experience, that rarely happens.
If it ever feels like too much, you can stop. This isn’t a test of endurance. It might help to talk to someone you trust, or a professional.
You’re not trying to fix anything or even to feel better. You’re just not sweeping it away.
I’m still learning this too. Some days I manage it. Other days, I hear myself say, “I’ll be fine,” before I’ve even checked if I am.
Penelope 🌷
The wisdom in your wake-up call
If you’re looking for more support, I invite you to check out my course, The Wisdom in Your Wake-up Call.
Have you had a wake-up call?
Maybe it was a diagnosis, a bad scan, or a doctor saying “This is what happens at your age”. Maybe it was catching sight of yourself in the mirror and thinking, “How did I get so old?”
That wake-up call wasn’t welcome. But it might be trying to tell you something. It might be showing you what needs your attention, and what’s been taking more of your energy than it deserves.
The Wisdom in Your Wake-Up Call is for women who are tired of choosing between fighting ageing and pretending it’s fine. It’s a way to listen to your wake-up call, instead of fighting it or hiding from it.
You’ll find practical modules, plus reflection prompts, brain-body movements, mindfulness practices, and simple practices to build self-compassion.
You’ll find the details about this course below.
Closing Thoughts
If this blog resonated with you and you want to connect, comment below with a word or a story, or simply say 'here.'
There's more of this work available—free bi-weekly Ageing Honestly letters. And if you would like to find out more about the Wisdom in Your Wake-up Call course, here’s the link: Wisdom in Your Wake-up Call.
Penelope Lane is a clinical psychologist, mindfulness teacher, and fitness and brain health trainer who helps women over 60 build whole strength—body, mind, heart, and soul. At 68 she's learned the hard way that staying alive isn't the same as feeling alive.
