Open Book: No Cure For Aging

In The Big Picture, That Is A Good Thing

By Anya Nitczynski

For the GPHN

I’ve noticed a recent uptick in people relying on me for answers. I go to concerts and I’m asked for my ID. I ask myself why every time. I guess I have reached the age where I can’t stoop behind my mother. I am no longer five years old and helpless.

When did that happen? From birth, maybe. I’ve always been growing, but not quite growing up. Or maybe I have. What does it even really mean to grow up? I know it means the collections of artifacts I hang on my wall are starting to grow, not unlike ivy clinging to the houses I see in Park Hill so often. I know it means sorrow and anxiety about the future.

Every day and every milestone that passes is one more thing that is now over in my life. There is pride in that, in the sense of accomplishment and recognition I seem to be getting more and more as of late, but there is also melancholy. Elementary school is long past. There is grief in realizing you are probably never going to make it big on the Disney Channel.

I don’t think there is any cure to the feelings that come up with aging, and of course there’s no cure to aging itself. The closest thing to medicine is being gentle with yourself while you figure out what age means to you. This can happen at 5 years old, or at 95.

It is ingrained in us from birth that aging is a bad thing. That we aren’t allowed to look like we’ve aged, act like we’ve aged, or do anything besides pretend to avoid the reality that is longevity.

Isn’t it a wonderful thing that we get to age, though? So many people never get that opportunity. I’m not saying not to experience the fullness of emotions, because that’s part of it, but understand that the Earth is older than you and you are here to experience it. Find the mundane things in life and enjoy them — trust that there is life beyond wherever you are now.

I know that I may not be qualified to be giving out advice on how to grow up at my elderly age of freshman in high school, but my ramblings and musings will hopefully at least inspire a look inwards. A look at who you are and what your values are, what matters most to you, and how that is the most important thing about you. It’s a good feeling to grieve something because of how much you miss it, because it happened.

Anya Nitczynski is a freshman at Denver School of the Arts. Her column appears monthly in these pages.