The Great Perhaps

No Talk of Dry Vaginas + Flaccid Penises Here. We are embracing the great unknown.

Celeste Sloman, photographer.

Two weeks ago, I wrote an essay called On Getting Old.

Since then I have been immersed in the comments (I’m still working through them!), getting to know people and learning from people’s stories, which have sometimes made me cry, laugh out loud, or just send me into a thoughtful, happy spiral.

This essay was read 80,000+ times, with 600+ comments, and 700+ restacks on the Notes app and it’s still going. Many of you have stayed and read other essays here and I am chuffed that these older essays, like me, have gotten another look.

Some of these comments and stories have lingered with me, so that I am thinking about them and the people who wrote them. Sometimes I carry these stories around with me during the day like a back pack. Your lives, what you are struggling with, the ways you have found peace and love, the ways you have centered yourselves in this aging process, these have changed me.

And yet, the way we have to measure the real success of this piece, is in the connections that have been created over these past couple weeks, the conversations, the things people wrote that were so honest and intimate, the private DMs, the way you have responded to each other’s stories in comments. This is the kind of community I hoped to have on this app and I hope we can make it into something gratifying for everyone.

I don’t get traditional writer’s block anymore. One of the perks of being an older writer is a kind of mastery. I have been a professional writer for too long not to have my ways to make words come to the page. But the week I was writing On Getting Old, I was stuck. Blank. And not just stuck and blank, I was nearly depressed about it. I laid in the sun here in Las Vegas, on a blanket in the backyard, the dogs next to me, licking my face, unmotivated. I pretended I was thinking, collecting my thoughts, when really I was stagnant inside. Ugh why?

I wanted to say something and wasn’t quite sure what it would be. I wanted to talk about aging, my aging, our collective aging, but I also didn’t. The anonymity of the internet - I can download any young-appearing, got-me-on-a-good day photo of me and I can carefully control my image. I can fool myself. I wanted to keep on fooling myself. Add to this being an older parent (my kids are 20 to 9) I can kind of appear younger than I am, parasocially.

A huge part of me wanted to stay in hiding. I didn’t want to let go of a certain kind of youth mirage that I clung to.

My husband, David, had suggested I start a “menopause” newsletter and podcast last year. Probably because I was talking about it to him so much. But I don’t like listening to menopause podcasts and/or reading anything about menopause. I subscribe to no menopause newsletters and I bought a book about menopaise (a bestseller) and I want to absolutely die every time I crack it open. So boring to read about dry vaginas, hormones and hot flashes. I couldn’t run away fast enough.

I found Aleah Chapin’s gorgeous work and was able to cobble together some feelings and hit publish. It is still a shock that the piece went so far and wide. But what I hadn’t expected was how you all helped me come out as a woman who is no longer young. You made it feel do-able. Real.

I was ecstatic to hear from people in their 90’s, 80’s, 70’s and 60’s and have those people report on their beautiful lives. What they overcame.. How they struggle. How they thrive. I was humbled by the hardships some of you are facing down, while bringing the kind of exuberance and positivity that we all aspire to. The bravery and persistence in comments flooded with me with so much hope.

You see, despite writing an essay about living our best aged selves, I hadn’t quite gotten there myself. Thank you for the push, the camraderie, and the support.

Here are some things I took away from your thoughtful, sometimes aching comments and then, what I’d like us to do going forward.

Takeaways From Your Comments

It isn’t just about the ladies.

I was struck by how many men responded to this piece that I mistakenly thought was about women. It isn’t about women at all! It’s about everyone changing and moving into a part of life that is unknown, scary, maybe hard and weird.

Menopause specifically is a biological woman’s thing (including trans men) but this rite of passage involves men of all sexualities and identities, as well as the straight men who love the women in their lives as they experience menopause.

We are free of fucks to give.

Not a single fuck left to give and it’s wonderful.

Young people think about aging too.

I was struck by how many younger people commented or wrote to me about worrying about aging when they are still quite young.

Our culture is making 20-year-olds worry about what they will lose the minute they leave their 20’s, without being told everything they might gain. This is unacceptable. And we should absolutely be discussing and reframing this for them and ourselves.

We are facing the idea of decline / death head-on. And making peace.

Death is part of aging. Ugh, we know. We know.

We recognize it as a privilege to even talk about it. And still there is grief over what will ultimately end.

From Emma Rooney:

Many of us came by this shift unexpectedly and unwillingly.

We have been thrown into early menopause, cancer that drives us there aginst our will, unplanned hysterectomies. Many of us have not had the privilege of easing into this transition. And that makes it harder to accept and thrive. And yet, we are here and want to talk about it.

Even men can experience a kind of biological menopause.

We see you, too.

Take Bob Mizek, a retired scientist who has prostate cancer and his treatments force his body into a state that mimics menopause with hot flashes and all. He is out there educating men about what women go through. His words:

Because I understand firsthand now what my wife, mother, family, members and friends have gone through or are going through, I also understand that most of us men are clueless as how they can help. I’ve decided to start writing in hopes that my posts will eventually reach men so they can understand what menopause is and what they can do to support their wife/partner. I wish I would’ve known this when my wife went through menopause and I could’ve been more supportive.

We are parents, grandparents, caregivers, matriarchs and patriarchs.

I wrote a bit in the piece about being perceived as a grandma even though I am a mom. We occupy important roles in our families and that work doesn’t end, in fact it might heighten Who are we taking care of? And why does it matter?

From Beth Gainer:

This space is multi-generational. Prepare to teach.

Austin, a 12-year-old, who happened to see all the naked old ladies was pretty sure this was porn and wanted to shut us down. We had a nice exchange.

From me: I knew you were a kid, Austin! And at 12 you probably don't have the experience to understand the difference between porn and art. And that's okay! I'm thrilled you are reading and here on substack. Welcome! I know that it might feel uncomfortable to look at naked old ladies - I get it. You are 12! Gross! But this isn't about giving people sexual feelings (porn) and it's not about girls performing sex stuff for the pleasure of boys to watch (porn). That's why we don't want boys seeing porn at your age. It's not good for boys or girls. This painting is about making older people, like me, feel great about being older. Feeling beautiful even if the world says we are ugly at our age. Art makes a bigger point than porn and that's the difference - that's what makes it art. You can't get that yet because you are 12 and that's okay. Instead of trying to have it removed because you don't understand it, you can just ignore it and read in other places and not look at the naked ladies, and we can keep talking about being old here. Cool? Also Austin, I have a 13 year old son. He wouldn't understand the difference between porn and this art either, but you have inspired me to have a conversation with him about the difference. Thank you! And if you want to hang out here and talk to all the grandmas and grandpas, you are welcome! I bet these folks have a ton of wisdom to share with you. - Kim

He apologized and made a bunch of connections with all of you. It confirmed to me that we have so much to give to and teach our communities.

We are still into sex, love, comfort + intimacy.

We are sexual and we want to have sex, or a kind of intimacy that works for our relationships as our bodies change and even fail us. Or we want nothing to do with sex, after having a lifetime of its burdens, and this is a freeing prospect.

What does sex look like for older folks? What does sexuality, sensuality and intimacy mean at this age, for long-term partners and for those dating or seeking out new love and new sexualities?

It’s time to see our own beauty. For once.

What is beauty when we have wrinkles and cellulite? What does it mean to be seen and how are we seen? What if there is a disconnect between how we see ourselves and how the world sees us?

Some people still don’t get it.

But fuck Fitzgerald. Because beauty is ours to define.

It is striking to me that the comments that affirmed the beauty of older women were mostly from the men who loved them. We need to be acknowledging and affirming our own beauty. Fuck this.

Invisibilty, we find, might be better than visibility.

Invisibility is our secret weapon. Don’t forget it.

Good healthcare options are our Louboutains.

We are losing our dearest people. And soldiering on. Somehow.

We will lose people we love. Some of them will be the people who are our greatest loves. How do we go on alone? Without them?

This is a big area of worry for me. I am not sure how I will ever be able to live without David, if he goes first. It keeps me up at night and wrecks me. I’d like to explore this some more.

Being old is actually fucking hilarious.

There is a lot of laughing at the absurdity of it all.

We are happy in ways we haven’t been happy before.

We are ever resilient. And not going anywhere. For now.

From Triggered by Trump:

From Meri Aaron Walker:

From Katherine Baldwin:

Celeste Sloman, photographer.

The Great Perhaps.

Thanks to my husband, David and some folks in comments for bringing this quote to the fore front. I go to seek a great perhaps is attributed to the French Renaissance writer and philosopher François Rabelais.

It’s meaning is about the greatness of not knowing the next steps. The beauty of an unanswered question. It’s about embracing and going all in on the great unknown, which for us could be death or illness, or new love and new adventure, or changes in who we thought we were. The embracing of a new identity, or just the mystery of being 60, of being 70, 80, 90 and beyond.

What does it all mean? I am screaming in my head. lol.

Let’s figure it out. Together.

Stay tuned every Thursday (sometimes Friday if I can’t get my shit together) for a new ALWAYS FREE, never-a-paywall essay. We can also schedule chats, zoom gatherings, around certain issues if people want. And if you have particular issues you’d like us to tackle, DM me or drop them in comments.

Look for changes here as I re-design and add more ideas for discussion. I will also ttry to set up the function so I can read the essay for those of you who want to listen while you garden. I want to stress that commenting is a super important way to make connections and relationships, so let’s have at it. I will try to keep up.

Let’s create a community that lifts everyone up and gets us through this getting old thing as beautifully and hilariously as we can.

Thank you, as always, for reading. xo Kim