They say youth is wasted on the young. I say wisdom is finally showing up, and I’m just now learning how to use it.
When I was younger, getting older felt like a deadline.
By 30, I thought I’d have a house. By 35, maybe a steady savings plan and a skincare routine with more than one step. By 40? I honestly didn’t even picture that far. Parang tapos na ang kwento.
But surprise: 40 came and I was still here, still discovering, still laughing, still stretching before getting out of bed (intentionally ha, not because I joined a spin class). And here’s the interesting part: growing older isn’t half as bad as I once feared.
Sure, there are new creaks in the knees and terms like “uric acid” and “gut health” now enter conversations over brunch. But there’s also clarity, peace, and this surprising lightness I never expected would come with age.
So if you’re in your 30s, 40s and beyond, or even just feeling like you’re aging every time you open your inbox, here’s my unsolicited but lovingly given take on the sunny sides of getting older.
I know myself better now
I may not always know what I’m doing, but at least I know who I am while doing it.
Back then, I tried on personalities the way some people try on shoes: a new one for every occasion.
– Am I the all-night-party type or the quiet café type?
– Am I living my truth, or just someone else’s Instagram mood board?
– Do I really like oat milk, or did someone at work convince me it’s superior to gatas ng kalabaw?
Eventually, life gives you enough moments to pause, and enough space to listen.
I learned I’m not the type who thrives in a crowd. I’m happiest having dinner with a few real friends who won’t judge if I order garlic rice again. I learned that I like linen even if I end up looking like a well-loved table napkin, and I’ve stopped saying yes to every invite just to feel “in.”
That’s the thing: you stop chasing identity and start designing your life like your go-to Spotify playlist. Less noise. More you.
And when you know yourself, it gets easier to tune out the noise.
I may not always know what I’m doing, but at least I know who I am while doing it.
I care less about what people think
I don’t say this in a bitter, bahala kayo sa buhay niyo way. It’s more like a gentle shrug. I used to agonize over what people thought. Sometimes I’d say yes just so I wouldn’t disappoint. Sometimes I’d dress for the crowd, not myself.
Let’s not lie. We all cared a little too much about what others thought when we were younger. Sometimes to the point where we made decisions (big ones) just to impress people who weren’t even watching. Or worse, people we didn’t even like.
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Now? I care less. But I care better.
I care about how I feel when I walk into a room.
I care that I can rest without guilt.
I care that I laugh easier now, even when I’m the punchline.
People will have opinions. Some will say you’ve changed (hopefully you have). Some will misunderstand you (so be it). But age teaches you not everything needs to be defended. Not every comment deserves energy.
This is the period where I stopped asking, “Will this look weird to others?” and started asking, “Will this make sense to me?” And that is when life starts to feel a little lighter.
I’ve finally realized what really matters
In my 20s, everything was a race. Career, travel, deadlines, relationships that all seemed fast and intense. I thought if I wasn’t always doing something impressive, I was falling behind.
But life has its way of slowing you down, sometimes gently, sometimes with a flat tire and no signal in the mountains of Benguet. And in that pause, you start to see things.
I start to pay attention to things that truly hold weight, like health, peace of mind, a good night’s sleep, and the luxury of not being in a rush.
I begin to see that life’s most meaningful moments were rarely the flashy ones. It was the Sunday breakfasts with my parents. The quick check-in text from a friend who knows my love language is “sending memes.” The quiet joy of sitting in traffic, alone, but not lonely, because I’m finally good company to myself.
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I stop chasing more and start savoring better. Better conversations, better boundaries, better coffee (because 3-in-1 just doesn’t ‘slap’ the same at 38).
I show up, not because I have to, but because I want to. Sometimes, what matters isn’t big or grand. It’s just… true.
I laugh easier now, especially at myself
There was a time when every mistake felt like a scar. One wrong word, one awkward joke, one wrong turn, I’d feel anxious.
These days? I forget things mid-sentence. I mispronounce trending slang. I wave at someone who wasn’t waving at me.
And I laugh. Hard.
Maybe it’s because I’ve collected enough moments to know: it’s never that serious. People forget. Life moves. You’ll cringe today, but you’ll tell the story next week and everyone will say, “Same! It happened to me too.”
That’s the joy of aging: you become softer with yourself. You hold your missteps with humor instead of shame. And somehow, that feels more powerful than any “perfect” moment I tried to embellish in my youth.
Getting older is a blessing
You can’t always spot it when you’re deep in the day-to-day, but getting older is one of life’s most underrated privileges.
It’s in the people who’ve stayed, and the ones you’ve outgrown.
It’s in the deeper sleeps, the stronger coffee, and the joy of canceling plans without guilt.
It’s in the clarity, the kinder self-talk, the ability to sit with silence and not need to fill it.
We often talk about aging like something we have to brace ourselves for. But really, it’s a season to be savored. Because not everyone gets to grow old. Not everyone gets the gift of hindsight, of time, of second chances.
And if you ask me, I’ll take laugh lines over teenage angst any day. I’ll take slow mornings, meaningful conversations, and the ability to leave when I’m tired without making an excuse.
So no, getting older isn’t the end of the party.
It’s finally realizing you can leave when you want to, and still be happy you came.
Aging is a blessing. Maybe not the wrinkle-free kind, but the kind that grows on you – gracefully, gratefully, and gloriously.
