From 18 to 50: Life's Blink of an Eye

One sunny morning in Venice, a few weeks ago, I woke up to the realization that I had entered middle age. Technically, the middle ages begin at 40, but I believe that our perception of age has evolved. What used to be considered 40 years old three decades ago is not the same as what 40 looks like today. However, regardless of how I rationalize it, I must admit that 50 is undeniably middle-aged.

Turning 50 didn't feel any different from being 49, but in so many aspects, things have changed. Living in the UK, I now qualify for regular feces checks, vaccinations to prevent illnesses, and notifications about my private pension. Recently, my pension operator sent me an email saying, "It's nearly time to decide what to do with your pension!" Is it nearly time, or is it time already? In the UK, one can start drawing on their private pension from the age of 55, which means I still have 4 years and 10 months until I can potentially access it.

Nowadays, whenever I fill out a survey, book a holiday, or sign up for a new service, I find myself ticking a different age group box. If I'm lucky, I might come across the occasional range of 40-55, but more often than not, I'm relegated to the 50-65 category.

Insurance companies now offer something called an "over 50s plan," designed specifically for older individuals. These types of insurance policies ultimately prepare for the inevitable end, providing financial support for those left behind to cover funeral expenses.

When I look in the mirror, I still don't see my dad; I see someone much younger. Yet, my dad passed away in 1987 at the age of 48. I still don't resemble his age. Hairstyles, a more relaxed lifestyle, and to some extent, fashion trends make us look younger than our counterparts in their 50s when we were in our 20s. But today's youth look at us fiftysomethings and accept that this is what 50 looks like.

Both my parents died in their 40s—one from cancer and the other from a sudden heart attack. My grandmother was the only older family member I had a chance to experience. In her 50s, she constantly struggled with poor health, and as a family, we discussed what her final days would be like. However, she ended up living until the age of 90.

The other day, I visited a park that charged admission to see its beautiful gardens. I discovered that now, being over 50, I was eligible for a discount. When and how did that happen?

I can vividly recall moments from the past. In 1980, I played with my Star Wars toys in the snow. In 1987, I received the devastating news of my father's death, shortly followed by the loss of my virginity. I remember the birth of my daughter in 1988 and becoming legally eligible for marriage in 1989. Memories of 1990 include summer blockbusters like Arachnophobia, Ghost, Pretty Woman, and Dances With Wolves, as well as the Christmas release of Home Alone. I can also recall the passing of my mother in 1994 and the start of a new flawed relationship in 1996. In 1999, we anxiously awaited the arrival of the new century, watching as it unfolded across the globe, yet nothing catastrophic happened. I could go on and on. These memories remain crystal clear, as if they happened just yesterday, even though most of them are over twenty years old.

In the blink of an eye, I transitioned from 18 to 50. My life has passed by in a blur, leaving me in disbelief about where the weeks, months, years, and decades have gone. If you are reading this as a twentysomething, rest assured that soon enough, you'll find yourself in a similar situation. Mentally, the thirty years that followed my twenties felt like the same amount of time from birth to age 20. Many of my schoolmates from the same year or neighboring grades have long since departed—some just a few years ago, others decades ago. Where did life go? Why does it slip away so swiftly? As I look ahead twenty years into the future when I'll be 70, I hope I can still embrace life with the same enthusiasm as I do now, even if accompanied by the occasional ache.

I still find myself dreaming about tomorrow, just as I did throughout my life. I eagerly anticipate holidays, my favorite TV shows, films, and upcoming events. Yet, I wonder when I will shift my focus to the present and start heeding the advice of "Don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today?"