Can you define joyspan?!
It might be my new favorite word.
Joyspan.
In last week’s NY Times, there was an article by Jancee Dunn about all of the various spans in our life, and a new one called Joyspan. It questions the point of working towards a longer lifespan if we are living a life not well-lived and not filled with joy. And boy, did that resonate with me. I feel like lately all my conversations revolve around what we need to be doing or quitting, or changing, and very few around the joy we find in living. I don’t know if it is my new age bracket (over 50), but this whole movement of giving up everything (alcohol, caffeine, red meat, fried food, gluten, carbs, etc) stresses me out and raises my anxiety. That’s not to say changing habits or cutting things out isn’t a personal choice, but it feels like there’s a whole group of people limiting themselves not because they need to or want to, but because they think they should.
“Joyspan is a term coined by Kerry Burnight, who was a professor of geriatric medicine and gerontology at the University of California, Irvine School of Medicine for 18 years. In her upcoming book, “Joyspan: The Art and Science of Thriving in Life’s Second Half,” she says that a lengthy life span does not equal a life well lived: You have to like your life, too.”
Life is too short to sweat the small stuff. A cliche, I know, but true. And I don’t just mean this from my place of loss. I mean it about EVERYTHING. I want to spend the time I have focused on the things important to me because life is flying by.
I blinked, and Ethan is about to enter his junior year of college, turn 21, and is a fairly independent adult.
I blinked, and Brian and I are in our 50s. And while I am so embracing this chapter, it feels different in a lot of ways. In the way my knees now hurt every morning when I am going downstairs, but also in the way where I embrace the power of mindset and choices, and choose joy while also choosing health and life.
I blinked, and we have less than 6 weeks of Ethan home.
I blinked, and Jake’s been gone for almost 15 years.
This time warp that is life has left me overly reflective lately. And I find solace in learning how to manage this big idea of wanting to be in the moment, live in the moment, enjoy the moments to their fullest, while also making sure I am around for all the future moments. I want to live a long, healthy life, and I want to fill my life with memories and laughter and moments to look back on.
Over the weekend, we were out with friends. We were on a bar hopping bike crawl. We were chasing live music with multiple stops, drinks, and laughs. At the first stop, I reminisced about a band that a group of us had seen at Druthers, probably 13 or 14 years ago. That band was playing all sorts of songs that I loved, and I remembered the feelings of joy and reckless abandon. I remember dancing like no one was watching and singing and everything that comes from a long summer day/night of shenanigans with besties. Those memories are amazing and filled with funny stories to share.
So when we were looking at live music playing around and trying to pick our final stop of the night, imagine my excitement when the same band I was talking about earlier was also playing that night at Druthers?! We hopped back on our bikes and went right over! As can be the case when we have such vibrant memories, sometimes they are better than reality. That isn’t to say the band wasn’t great, but the moments in my head from that day years ago were spectacular and captured a specific era of time in my life. It captured the years right after Jake died, when I was trying to use my newfound freedom of not having to take care of a medically fragile kid, when Ethan loved to stay over nights with his grandparents, and when I could escape all that was in my head. And listening to that band Saturday reminded me of all the good things
I balance nights like Saturday with a quieter kind of day that I equally enjoy. A peloton to sweat some of it out, golf with the family, and time catching up on work. And with this belief in the value of making the most out of each day, no matter what that looks like. I balance the fun of weekends with friends and adventures with days of flavored seltzer and Athletic Brewing (obsessed with their brew-inspired cocktails btw).
I am learning to NOT give in to all of the NOISE that exists and to not get stressed or anxious or overwhelmed by what others are doing (or not doing). We spend so many conversations on what we would be eating (all the protein, no sugar, no carbs, or whatever it is), drinking (or not drinking, as is usually the case), and I am fully guilty of it too. When did life shift to a place where we worry about every single thing and seemingly give up everything that gives us joy? Or more so, when did we start overthinking every single thing?
What I now recognize is that, for me, this thinking doesn’t work. My anxiety skyrockets, and my mental health plummets. And it brings back all those thoughts of not being skinny enough, popular enough, or whatever other worry I ever created for myself. We have all heard it before, and it is yet another cliche, but comparison is the thief of joy. I am committed to not letting anything or anyone steal my joy.
And am I looking forward to the next boozy bike crawl? ABSOLUTELY.
XO,
Heather