There’s something that sneaks up on many of us as we get older, and it isn’t just stiffness in the knees or a tendency to misplace our glasses.

It’s irritation.

By the time you hit 70, you’ve seen enough to know how things should work – and enough times when they don’t. You’ve lived through governments you trusted and governments you didn’t. You’ve sat in more meetings than you care to remember. You’ve dealt with neighbours, committees, systems, and people who seem determined to do things the hard way.

And suddenly, complaining becomes easy.

There are so many fools, after all. And now, you have the time to notice them.

Friends get angry about Donald Trump. Friends get angry about Anthony Albanese. Friends get furious about the Body Corporate, the parking rules, the levies, the neighbour who doesn’t recycle properly. Anger bubbles up in conversations that once revolved around families, travel plans, or what was for dinner.

The question is – does all that anger actually make anything better?

Most of the time, it doesn’t.

Anger can feel satisfying in the moment. There’s a sense of release in saying, “Can you believe this?” or “Someone needs to do something.” But when anger becomes a habit – a default setting – it drains far more than it gives. It tightens conversations. It hardens opinions. And it quietly shifts the tone of friendships.

What’s tricky is that negativity is contagious.

Spend enough time with people who see the worst in everything, and you’ll start doing it too – even if you don’t mean to. You’ll leave catch-ups feeling heavy rather than uplifted. You’ll notice your own patience thinning. And you may find yourself complaining not because you feel strongly, but because it’s the currency of the room.

That’s usually the moment to pause.

Because staying positive doesn’t mean pretending everything is wonderful. It doesn’t mean ignoring injustice or swallowing your opinions. It means choosing where your energy goes – and who gets access to it.

One of the kindest things you can do for yourself is to stop rehearsing outrage that you have no power to resolve. You don’t have to engage in every argument. You don’t have to agree. And you certainly don’t have to keep feeding conversations that spiral into bitterness.

If a friend has become relentlessly negative, try gently redirecting the tone. Ask a different question. Change the subject. Or, if you feel safe doing so, name it kindly: “I find all this makes me feel exhausted – can we talk about something lighter?”

You might be surprised how often others feel the same way but don’t know how to change the rhythm.

If that doesn’t work, it’s okay to limit how much time you spend in those conversations. Protecting your peace isn’t selfish. It’s sensible.

And then there’s the more uncomfortable part – looking at ourselves.

It’s worth asking: Am I becoming someone who complains more than I listen?
Am I repeating the same grievances without moving toward solutions?
Am I enjoying my anger more than I’d like to admit?

Optimism, like fitness, requires maintenance.

It can be as simple as balancing every complaint with something that’s going well. Choosing gratitude over grievance at least once a day. Paying attention to what still delights you – a grandchild’s laugh, a good book, a decent cup of coffee, a quiet morning.

Life doesn’t get simpler as we age, but our perspective can get clearer.

At this stage, we know that shouting at the television doesn’t change the world. We know that Body Corporate meetings end much the same way they begin. We know that politics has always been messy and probably always will be.

What we can change is how much of our precious time we spend angry.

The glass really can be half full – not because everything is perfect, but because choosing hope, calm and humour makes the days lighter.

And at this age, lighter days are worth protecting.