‘He kept going until he couldn’t’: why do boomer men refuse to slow down?

My friend Jeremy’s father has always taken pride in doing things himself. When Jeremy (whose name I have changed for his privacy) was a kid, he watched his dad, an architect, painstakingly renovate their entire family home – ripping up floorboards and laying tile.

Today, Jeremy’s dad still insists on climbing up a ladder to clean out the gutters; he wants to fell deadwood with a pruning saw and move heavy furniture around the basement. But now 80 and living with Parkinson’s disease, his drive comes with higher stakes, every strenuous task increasing his risk of preventable harm.

“My dad doesn’t know anything else,” Jeremy says. “He’s always been the person who fixes the hole in the roof.” Now he does it in spite of family members desperately trying to convince him to let them do it instead or pass those responsibilities to hired help.

Being a doer is his identity. “He hasn’t handed off control,” Jeremy tells me. In fact, as the years go by, Jeremy’s dad seems increasingly fixated on his to-do list – something Jeremy interprets as an effort to reclaim a displaced sense of wellness.

This story is part of a much bigger demographic shift. After a century of rising life expectancy, people in the west are living 30 years longer than they did in 1900, on average, with 75% now reaching their 65th birthday and beyond. For those born in and around the baby boomer generation, this means entering the longest phase of elderhood in history, full of potential but also fraught with challenges.

Modern medicine has made living longer possible, but it hasn’t necessarily prepared this cohort to anticipate or process what that means. One recent survey, from financial services non-profit the TIAA Institute, found 35% of male respondents underestimated how long men on average live after retirement (22 years). While chronological age does not denote decline, longer lives can also mean longer battles with weakening bodies, illnesses and questions of purpose and identity.

In 2023, researchers from the University of Michigan and the University of Alabama at Birmingham published a study exploring how hegemonic masculinity affects men’s approach to health and ageing. “Masculine identity upholds beliefs about masculine enactment,” the authors write, referring to the traits some men feel they must exhibit, including control, responsibility, strength and competitiveness. As men age, they are likely to feel pressure to remain self-reliant and avoid perceived weakness, including seeking medical help or acknowledging emerging challenges.

The study’s authors write that middle-aged men might try to fight ageing with disciplined health and fitness routines. But as they get older and those strategies become less successful, they have to rethink what it means to be “masculine”, or suffer poorer health outcomes. Accepting these identity shifts can be particularly difficult for men, who can exhibit less self-reflection and self-compassion than women.

Traditional masculinity is ingrained in the sociocultural norms that shaped boomers; it wasn’t uncommon for them to experience sternly pragmatic parenting that emphasized self-reliance and emotional restraint.

Related: ‘I have a pretty carefree life’: four adults over 50 on being childfree

“The boomer generation did not grow up necessarily with therapy as a resource, and grew up with more ‘suck it up’ masculine ideas. That has an impact when they’re looking in the mirror and faced with their own vulnerability,” says Dr Karen Skerrett, a psychotherapist and researcher focusing on changes throughout the human life cycle.

When it comes to boomer men’s identity, work often ends up becoming a cornerstone. “You are your job,” says Skerrett. “If you aren’t checking in and running the show, who are you?” This association of identity and worthiness with productivity and achievement means that retirement and health decline can leave many ageing men struggling to find purpose and value. And although conditions like depression and neurodegenerative diseases become more common with age, lingering stigma around mental health and disability often prevents them from seeking help.

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Skerrett emphasizes there is no tidy, one size fits all way to navigate the clash of identity and ability: “There is just so much diversity that we can’t particularly predict how somebody is going to react to limitations,” she says.

However, in a 2021 research report she and her co-authors proposed six tasks to help people develop a “realistic, accommodating and hopeful” perception of the future: acknowledging and accepting the realities of ageing; normalizing angst about the future; active reminiscence; accommodating physical, cognitive and social changes; searching for new emotionally meaningful goals; and expanding one’s capacity to tolerate ambiguity. These tasks help people to recharacterize ageing as a transition that requires adaptability, growth and foresight, and to resist “premature foreclosure”, or the notion that their life stories have ended.

As we age, managing our own egos becomes a bigger psychological task, says Skerrett. We may not be able to do all the things we once enjoyed, but we can still ask ourselves how we can contribute and support others in meaningful ways. Focusing on internal growth and confronting hard truths with grace and clarity can ease confusion, shame and anger. Instead of clinging to lost identities, we can seek purpose in connection, legacy and gratitude.

Yet these suggestions can sound opaque and new-agey. What does it look like for men to actually confront gendered beliefs and the realities of ageing?

Eduardo Sousa, 59, is reflecting on the new limitations in his energy and sense of wellbeing, and knows they will only deepen. A first-generation Portuguese-Canadian in British Columbia born at the boomer/gen X generational cusp, Sousa often thinks of his father, who, he recalls, “worked himself to the point of having a heart attack on the coldest day of the year” in Toronto over a decade ago.

“He had retired by then, but he just kept going until he couldn’t,” Sousa says.

While Sousa still admires his parents’ dedication to hard work and providing for their family, his perspective is shifting. As the self-described “older dad” of two boys, who will be teenagers when he reaches his mid-60s, he wants to embody more than just the “traditional role as a ‘breadwinner’,” he says.

For years, the concept of self-compassion felt “very nebulous, amorphous”, Sousa admits: “It took a long, long time to understand that, in terms of being OK with not being able to accomplish all the things that I set out to do.” Now, Sousa hopes to model for his children “what it means to be authentic and vulnerable” and challenge “patriarchal notions of masculinity”.

These days, he might not have the energy to stay up late getting extra work done, or build his kids the tree fort he’s promised them.

“I’ve been trying to come to terms with ageing in a good way, understanding that there are gifts that come with it,” says Sousa. “Slowing down is forcing me to look even deeper into who I am as a human being and as a man in this world.”

Ken Madden, 61, and his family have noticed how ageing has affected him physically, compounded by a diabetes diagnosis, subsequent weight gain and mobility challenges. “Even getting out of a low couch is real work,” he says.

A former Buddhist chaplain, Madden leans on spiritual practices like meditation and “practicing happiness” by focusing on moments of joy, like being with family or watching a great play in a hockey game.

In his younger years, Madden struggled with anger caused by work insecurity. That collided with an unexamined belief that as a white man he was entitled to be financially secure and successful – “on top of the food chain”. As a result, obstacles felt especially bitter and undeserved.

He has seen similar emotions overtaking male peers. A slipping sense of dominance and control in realms like career, health and daily activity can manifest as hostility and even bigotry. “We’re seeing it in politics,” Madden notes, pointing to reactionary rightwing movements rooted in male supremacy and resistance to change.

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These demographic and sociological realities raise thorny questions not only for boomer men, but the people who love them. Family members may find themselves trying to support someone who takes risks, resists help, and is unwilling or unable to accept their changing body. “The thing that has been a challenge is convincing [my dad], ‘No you don’t have to do [a particular task] to be a valuable member of the family. You are enough,’” Jeremy tells me.

Related: How do I stay healthy in my 50s?

Elders who are accustomed to being nurturers, providers and protectors may balk at the role reversal of younger relatives claiming to know what’s best, says Dr Samuel Baxter, assistant professor of health policy and management at the University of North Carolina Gillings School of Global Public Health. “Due to patriarchy, boomer men may feel uncomfortable discussing their needs or limitations with the younger generations they feel responsible for.”

For that reason, adult children may be outright dismissed when they attempt to broach sensitive topics about what an elder might need.

“When I’ve gotten into discussions with [my dad], it will always reach a point where he says, ‘At the end of the day, I am the adult, you are the child – we are leaving it at that.’ Then I get frustrated and leave him to his own devices,” says Jeremy.

But families can help loved ones transition into later life with less conflict and deeper understanding. A spouse or peer is often better placed to approach the conversation, thanks to mutual respect and shared experience. Younger adult relatives, like children, should collaborate with them, if possible, “to address sensitive ageing topics,” says Baxter.

If the elder is worried about losing freedoms, such as driving or tackling housework, Baxter encourages families to listen carefully to concerns and offer viable compromises, like doing projects together or assisting with transportation.

If you have an older or middle-aged person in your life, Baxter recommends preparing for shifts in ability before they happen. Talking about potential future needs and preferences while they “have full cognition and physical ability” may be more constructive, says Baxter. Ask what tasks they might want help with, what assistance they would be comfortable with and whether any particular questions, topics or types of communication might make them embarrassed.

It’s better to have a discussion early than wait until an accident has already happened. “Too many times, the first time we’re having the conversation is when it has to be the hard conversation,” says Baxter.

Encouraging ageing men to be socially connected is important for their emotional and physical health, says Baxter. “The more elder adults, regardless of their functional abilities, are able to go out into the world and see people and continue to explore new experiences, the better,” he says. People talking to them, and asking them for help or advice, “is also a huge piece; it not only shows they have value and relevance in our society, but it gives them the opportunity to engage with others”. Many community centers offer programming for those 55 and over, though Baxter believes more should include events specifically tailored for older men.

Not everyone will embrace self-reflection or heed pleas to be more cautious or find new sources of fulfillment – and that can be heartbreaking and exhausting for those close to them. The partner and other family members are often overlooked, Skerrett says. In those moments, families might need to set boundaries or find their own support to cope with strain.

Traditional gender norms are evolving, and future generations may be better positioned to navigate ageing with awareness, connection and care. Elders don’t need to be fixed, but being resilient into old age does require flexibility from them and their loved ones.

Sousa believes that the effort he has put into rethinking masculinity will make ageing feel less fraught. When he’s in his 70s and his sons suggest he doesn’t clamber up the ladder, he hopes to be receptive and realistic. “I’m not going to have the same kind of resistance,” he says.