Challenging Assumptions
I was in my 20s when I first heard this piece of advice: “When you assume something, it makes an ASS out of U and ME.” I thought that was pretty funny then because, after all, I just about had the answers for everything. Making assumptions wasn’t something I did!
Of course, I have had many moments over my lifetime to see that assumption challenged, over and over again. Out of those experiences, I have come to realize that assumptions don’t make an ass out of any of us, but they do create opportunities to rethink beliefs that too often go unchallenged. Here are four assumptions about aging that I think are worth challenging.
Assumption 1: Aging Means Decline
One of the most commonly held assumptions about aging is that as we get older, our overall health and mentation “decline.” Multiple social factors feed this assumption, as does our unquestioned acceptance of “decline” as the definition of change.
I can’t argue that aging doesn’t change a person. It does, in multiple ways. What sustains the notion of “decline” is the idea that the loss of any capacity is negative. Consider how we talk about the end of life. The end result for all of us is death, regardless of our vital signs or the chronic diseases we may have lived with for decades. Yet it is not uncommon for people to say, “She was too young to die!”
When is it “too old” to die?
When years are the only measure of a life, we miss so many other measures of having lived a “good” life. It is not about how many days a person has been on Earth—it is about what that person has done with those days. Loss of any capacity is a change to be accommodated, not proof that a life is in decline.
Assumption 2: Age Predicts Ability
Right now there is a debate about placing limits on elected officials. Some proposals suggest term limits; others focus on maximum age or on cognitive testing. The age-based arguments rest on the assumption that being “old” means being out of touch: out of touch with new technology, new ideas, and new approaches to stubborn problems. Along with that comes the unquestioned assumption that “young” is better. And we have a preference for youth!
Consider a recent example: this past week, news videos showed Senator Mitch McConnell being wheeled into the Senate chamber. The implicit message, however deliberately it was used for political purposes, was that the senator is no longer able to do his job. That may be true, but if so, the cause is not solely his age. Still, the images reinforced assumptions about aging that many of us hold.
What Should Be Measured?
Age alone is merely a measure of time passing. Am I less able to use my smartphone today than I was yesterday? Have I lost my ability to problem-solve just because my birthday month has passed? When I turned 65, did I magically lose my ability to climb stairs or ride a bike? When age is the only measure used to evaluate functional ability, we lose sight of what actually needs to be measured.
These are all abilities that can be measured with standardized testing, allowing conclusions to be drawn about a person’s ability to do a given job. We use such measures in other areas. Why not for aging?
A Better Measure: Functional Capacity
There is a relatively easy shift to make in order to adapt to longer lives: use functional capacity as the measure. Functional capacity can be defined as having enough strength, stamina, and cognitive reserve to successfully accomplish the tasks required by the job at hand. The same standard applies to everyone, whatever their age.
What would you consider appropriate measures of strength, stamina, and cognitive reserve for an elected official? People in any workplace can struggle in one or more of these areas. Without such a standard, our judgment about who can and can’t do the job is heavily influenced by our assumptions about what it means to be old.
A Personal Example
I am living this question myself. My functional capacities are changing. One factor is long COVID. I need to pace myself in order to do all the things I want and need to do. If I didn’t have long COVID, I imagine I could accomplish the same things without the added monitoring.
Before COVID, I had both hips replaced. Functionally, I was limited. I could barely walk. Once I had my new hips, that functional status changed. No longer was pain a barrier to walking, swimming, or doing other physical activities I enjoy.
My brain is changing, too. I am hypervigilant when words don’t come to me as quickly as they used to and when I can’t remember people’s names. Yet I still put out a weekly blog, work on my website, teach classes, and remember to pay my bills. Functionally, my cognitive reserves remain strong, but I need to pay attention to them.
What these experiences show me is that capacity changes for many reasons, including illness and surgery, not just birthdays; that it can improve as well as decrease; and that paying attention to it is part of functioning well.
Assumption 3: Productive Years End at 65
Our beliefs about aging carry an implicit expectation of productivity: that a person’s productive years have a beginning and an end. The accepted age for retirement here in the U.S. is 65. That number is a policy benchmark. It continues to shape our expectations of when one generation should step aside so the next can take over. Concern about making room for the next generation is fair, but it is an argument about opportunity, not about capacity, and the two should not be confused.
The reality is that for more and more of us, our capacity to contribute to society in meaningful ways continues well past 65. Yet opportunities to contribute, whether in a trade, a business, the arts, or elsewhere, abruptly shrink.
Assumption 4: We Already Know What “Old” Means
If you want to age better and age well, you need to explore your own assumptions about aging. Ask yourself: If it weren’t about a number, how would I define “old”? Notice when you use age as an excuse for not doing something, and challenge that self-talk.
Push back, gently, when someone says, “You’re really amazing for someone your age!” The compliment carries an assumption of low expectations. “You’re only as old as you feel!” may seem like a harmless cliché, but it suggests that being “old” can’t feel good. By golly, maybe you are feeling fantastic and are old, too.
Redefine What “Old” Means to You
When I was in my 20s, I believed I didn’t make assumptions. Decades later, I see that the assumptions I carry about age are among the most powerful I hold—about elected officials, about retirement, and about myself.
Challenging them isn’t about proving anyone wrong. It is about opening the door to rethinking what “old” means, for ourselves and for the people we choose to lead us. Challenge your own notions, and then redefine what “old” means to you.
5 responses to “Challenging Assumptions”
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Mary, believe it or not, I’d never heard the ASS U ME thing before. Definitely a sort of Buddhist trope, among other things: shorthand for (1) “avoid ascribing invented motives to others’ behaviors”and (in general) (2) “avoid ascribing ‘meaning’ — to WHATEVER is happening.” At (just now 79), I’m “dealing with” (benign) prostate removal surgery (which will be a godsend!), annoyingly dry nighttime eyes, a left cataract that’s acting up (glasses prescription keeps expensively changing), and “the usual” elder less-than fully automatic “digestion.” AND YET THE ABOVE is A-L-L that this “young spirit in an aging machine” is presently dealing with. Meanwhile, my body’s still strong and spry, my mind’s agile and constantly entertains itself (poetry, piano, reading, art), AND I have a similarly ALIVE partner. Wow. Thanks for your blogs! Always so worthwhile.
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Hi Mary,
I always appreciate your perspective. And I wonder whether you think that it is normal and common for functional capacity to gradually diminish (or “decline”) as people age. My clients (I’m
a clinical psychologist like you), will speak about no longer having the energy to travel and spend time with their large families with many young grandchildren, and lament the fact they’re not as “up for” all the activity they used to have. I see that as internalized ageism —an expectation that one should never change because the way you were when you were younger was better, and you’ll be disappointing yourself and others if you change (your functional capacity is diminished). I see these beliefs as causing suffering, and think an acceptance of the changes, with an appreciation of what one may gain, as a paths to greater peace and less stress and anxiety.
I don’t know if you or others would be moved to comment, but I’d love to hear others’ thoughts on this dilemma.
Thank you -
Thank you for commenting! Your observations align with mine both in my practice and when I speak to larger groups. There is a peripheral awareness of self as being different from the stereotypes — lots of jokes that go by that, at least for me, once I became aware of my internalized ageism, I could no longer tolerate. It’s like watching reruns of a favorite show from the 1960’s and seeing the now blatant, painful representations of how women were supposed to act and how people of color were portrayed. I keep asking folks to just take stock of what their lives are like. How their functional present differs from their model of what “old” was given them. Then I tell them that they are modeling what it means to age for their children and grandchildren. The great thinkers of psychology of the 20th century (Jung, Erikson) laid the foundation of considering what old age could/should be. Ashton Applewaite, Louise Aronson, and William Butler have challenged some of those notions and expanded others. Your extending the invitation to your patients to challenge limiting beliefs and explore what it means to adapt to change not as a “decline” or expected pathology, but as an opportunity for finding new meaning is one that I suspect is eagerly accepted!
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Hi Mary,
Thanks for your thoughtful response and for those names of current thinkers about aging. I’m aware of Louise Aronson, but will look into Applewaite and Butler.
It’s an exciting time to be aging, and yet confusing too. Watching people do handstands on Instagram and all the “work” people get done to look like they’re not aging makes “regular” people feel like they’re just not doing it right. It’s exhausting, demoralizing and sometimes scary. Younger family members who encourage their parents to be the go-getters they’ve always been have the best of intentions, but can feed into the sense that there’s something wrong with you if you’re not saying “yes” to everything you’ve always done in the past (whether you wanted to do it or not).
Thanks again for this nuanced conversation. -
You are welcome! Your response echos my own writings about this stage of life having to focus on transitioning from “doing” to “being”. Joan Erikson, Erik’s wife, writes about this in her book “The Life Cycle Completed” — she calls it “gero-transcendence” or the Ninth Stage. Our culture is youth focused and because of that we really haven’t identified what older people are for (BTW, there is a great book by William Thomas with that title — I don’t know if it is still in print, but do see if you can find it! “What Are Old People For?”) This tension is evident right now with demands that old politicians just step down and that old people need to move out of their housing so younger folks can start families. To me, this is more about expanding our notions of how we can contribute differently — how to remain useful rather than just productive — The images you refer to are the beginnings of how we push and change those boundaries and expectations. As are conversations like this!

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