Esther McCarthy: As I age, a (tiny) bit of wisdom emerges

It's Esther McCarthy's birthday this week, here are her words of wisdom

It is my birthday this week.

Aren’t I just so happy, and lucky, and privileged to be here. Alive and well (ish). I’m 49 and feelin’ fine (ish).

If there’s one thing I love about birthdays, it’s the permission it gives to proffer unsolicited advice.

But just because I’m old, it doesn’t mean I am wise. Oh hoho, quite the opposite. I really don’t have a clue what I’m doing half the time. I genuinely think I’m like 18, and I have to do a double take when I catch myself in the mirror.

Gah! Who is that crone, and why does she have the hands of the old necklace hogger from Titanic?

But aging is like a superpower, and with great power comes great responsibility, thanks Uncle Ben.

So I feel it’s on me to impart some unwise words to all you youngies out there.

My God, wait til next year, 50! I’ll be completely insufferable.

Here goes.

Never put off today what you can put off for next week

I’m a firm believer in procrastination. Some of my best work has been done past deadline (this column not included). Push everything to later, then feel the adrenaline soar through your veins as you pull a miracle out of your ass at the last minute. It’s a rush like no other, but I’ve never done crack cocaine, so take that with a pinch of salt.

Keep toxic people in your life

I know there’s a whole trend now about cutting everyone out of your life who ever made you feel bad, but I do not agree. Not letting your mother see her grandchildren because she forced you to play that camogie final when you had your period is not the Irish way. Get over it. It was character-building.

Everything is narcissist-this and gaslighting-that these days. These horrorshows are crucial to keep around. It makes you feel good about how relatively normal you are. It was a different time. They did their best. Allegedly.

But also, never forgive

In the same breath, when you are properly wronged, cling to the injustice. There’s a lot of hokey nonsense about forgiveness out there. Some eggheads have even financed studies about how beneficial forgiving someone who has wronged you can be. It can bring peace, improve your mental and physical health, and empower you to regain control of your life.

I call bullshit.

Resentment, anger, and bitterness are all key emotions to keep you living longer.

There is nothing quite like the thought of outliving your enemies to put fire in your belly. Sure, some people say holding grudges can lead to chronic stress, anxiety, and depression, but I say they’re not doing it right.

You can focus on your own growth and success AND fantasise about those horrible creatures getting their just desserts. Speaking of which, always have dessert. And have it hot, with icecream on top.

Talk to children like they’re adults, and adults like they are children

This really works. And it’s the best craic. Most children are famously entertaining, and most (female) adults are actually in a constant state of overwhelm and will welcome the slower pace of conversation.

At your next intergenerational gathering, try this. Say to the harried-looking mother walking in backwards, chewing on a collagen gummy, filling in Fair Deal forms for the mother-in-law, ordering a specialist (aka expensive) gymnastic leotard for the display next week, even though the young one hasn’t yet mastered a forward roll: “Isn’t that a lovely dress! Aren’t you a great girl! Let me know if you need to go to the toilet, and I’ll go with you.”

To the seven-year-old patting on Drunk Elephant eye serum: “Well, what’s the craic? Are you busy? You look busy. Tell me everything.” It works.

The benefit of the doubt is not for everyone

Some people do deserve a chance. You’ll know the ones who deserve a bit of grace; everyone has a bad day, and you really don’t know what might be going on in the background.

But as you get older, you become better adept at identifying the ones that are just dyed-in-the-wool gobsheens.

You must not, under any circumstances, give them an inch. They will be like that goddamn vinca plant I innocently planted in the garden about nine years ago. It took over the whole area, choking out all my other lovely efforts.

Little innocent purple star flowers, slowly, insidiously, creeping their way along until there’s nothing else there. I’ve hacked it, dug it out, mowed it, but to no avail. It’s established now, I have to live with it.

Gobsheens, if allowed to take root, will do the same. Be ruthless. Shut them down. Your garden is not for them.

There you have it. Cin, cin! Here’s to another 12 months of living badly. Half a century, here I come.