OUR CHILDREN BECOME OUR PARENTS

 I recently saw a t-shirt with a message emblazoned on the front: “You can’t tell me what to do. You aren’t my daughter.”

I can relate to that. My daughter wields that kind of power. When my intelligence began the downslide, hers increased. She might even be brilliant. My daughter-in -law is the same. Together they are formidable. Perhaps nature meant it to be that way. We reach a certain age and require back-up brains. Our children…bless their hearts…provide them.

We knew it was coming. From a young age we heard the old wives tale. So it didn’t take us by surprise, this time when roles reverse and the children become the parents. Grin and bear it. If you forget the word…they will quickly supply it. If you’re shopping for clothes, they will tell you what’s in style and what you should donate from your closet. (Most of it!)  Update is one of their favorite words. But why update now?  I would rather put my money in travel and enjoy my old outdated furniture. The couch just got really comfortable.

But there you are.

It’s a bit disconcerting when your children start talking to you as if you were three years old, especially when you’ve reached a proud age of seventy-three. You feel as if your experience and knowledge should be treasured. The thing is, most likely it’s all outdated. Take heart! Your kids will gladly share with you what they first learned forty years ago…from you.

 

 

 

MY SECRET TO ESCAPING THE OBSESSION OF AGING

I fell into a funk and the only way out was the truth. Sadly. Or not.

I am what I am. I am done with pretending the old woman in the mirror is not me. While my mind tells me that I’m as much fun and as ready for adventure as I was when I was thirty-five - No. the truth is, the words adventure and fun have taken on new meanings. Adventure is going to a new hair stylist for the first time, fun is curling up with a cup of herb tea and immersing myself in a good book.  

My hair is silver, my toes are curling inward. Mysterious projectiles shoot from my mouth unexpectedly when I’m speaking. Sometimes I wobble when I walk. Strange sounds occasionally emanate from my body. Words that I know very well escape me. I stare into space waiting for them to return unless there are others in the room who jump in quickly to fill in my blanks. Obviously, my brain is not operating on all cylinders as it once did. It’s slower. But reliable. However, I am over eighty and some decline is to be expected. 

My hand shakes with a familial tremor so when I attempt to order one item online, sometimes two (or more) arrive. There are wrinkles where my skin used to be English-fair and smooth and I do believe those are jowls starting to form.

With the exception of a few variants, the aging process is alike for most of us. Aging does not make us exceptional. It only makes us privileged.

 I’ve known friends who have become preoccupied attempting to understand the aging process they are experiencing and to bond with others of like health and mind. I get that. There is comfort in belonging to a group. We want the reassurance of knowing we’re aging like our best friend Angie. Except when it becomes an obsession and we unwittingly become self-absorbed in the process. Aging being all we think about, all we research, all we care about.

My husband refused to become embroiled in health and or aging discussions. He would change the subject or leave the room. He’d rather talk about the state of the economy! And he hated politics.

Perhaps we should take let nature take its course while we direct our mind and body into living our lives the best way possible despite the challenges presented by aging. I cannot make it to Machu Picchu. I’m lucky to be able to travel to Salt Lake City. But that’s where I’ll go now and visit family. My breathing issues have required me to change my plans and revise the bucket list. Hardship? Hardly.

So how did I fall into the funk in the first place? Too much focus on aging, both the pros and cons. Mostly cons. I was researching, writing and living the subject. (Not-so-fun fact: Greatest fall risk happen at 85 years of age. Fall risk begins at age 65)

So how did I escape the obsession/depression of aging? 

By pure accident I found taking on responsibility helped me. Doing nothing in retirement years may seem like a dream but can quickly become your worst nightmare leading directly to the afore mentioned funk of depression and obsession.

I’ve taken on the responsibility of rescuing a dog. Ruby is a terrific companion and becoming devoted to her welfare has brought a positive change to my life. I’ve also signed on for volunteer work. I’ve chosen a volunteer responsibility which interests and excites me. I may not be able to contribute as many hours as I would have in younger days, but that’s acceptable and more than okay for most organizations.

These new responsibilities don’t mean a new ache or pain won’t have me venting in frustration or making a doctor visit, but a blip is a blip, a paragraph rather than a short story. I’ll take care of each new challenge (and they will come!) and move on. Simply put. The secret to overcoming aging obsession is responsibility to something or someone other than yourself.

Of course, having to face the mirror to wash my face and apply a minimum of make-up, I’ll still be forced to see what others see. Today, I see an old woman. I must acknowledge I look quite like other old women. Women I pass on the street or in the store. We may have not traveled the same path to the place we are now, but we share the same fears and challenges of aging - as well as the same beautiful natural silver hair color. A year ago I might have said I have nothing in common with these women. I am not a member of the same tribe. But now I know unequivocally that I do.

Losing our friends is devastating. Waiting to die is sad. (Especially if our bodies are not ready) Waiting for family members to make our lives interesting is tragic when we are still capable of making our own decisions and keeping focused our own journey. 

In our youth when Betty Friedan promised we could do it all, but we eventually arrived at the place where we learned we could not. We were exhausted. We started looking for balance in work, family life, romance. Now the only balance we’re after is the kind that will keep us upright, rather than on the floor. But maybe that’s just me. Taking responsibility.

I am what I am. And as the lyrics from La Cage Aux Folles add so poignantly…I am my own special creation.

Aren’t we all? And shouldn’t we be celebrating this unexpected longevity instead of falling into an aging obsession funk?

 

I'M BACK!I

 When I wrote that I was stepping away from this blog for a bit, I was thinking a few weeks - not a few months.  But. (There's always a but!) I made a move to this quiet, beautiful island, took a cruise, published a new book through The Wild Rose Press, addressed a health issue and then made time to refill the creative well.  However, I'm back! Once again I'll be focusing on the aging process with positivity, vitality and humor.  With a dose of researched reality.

Does the holiday season bring on the blues?  Sometimes feeling down sneaks in and crushes the best of us. So, several years ago I came up with six steps for avoiding the holiday blues.

1) Sing along with the most uplifting songs of the season. (Best done in the car alone, if like me you can't carry a tune.)

2) Tune out nostalgia - hide the photo albums from past holidays and special events. Also essential, avoid those toxic, pessimistic and/or perpetually angry people who wander through our lives from time to time. (Unfriend them if possible, but if they're family members, practice extreme diplomacy.)

3) Smiles! Sprinkle smiles everywhere. A simple smile brings one back to you. 

4) Practice random acts of kindness. Helping a fellow shopper find her car, treating the folks behind you in the drive-thru to a cup of coffee. Little things mean a lot.

5) The Good-Book Getaway. Find a hideaway and curl up with a book which will transport you from stress to magical places.

6) And lastly, dwelling on the past drains energy required for what IS. Live in the present! Enjoy every minute of now...and eat chocolate!

And now I'm stepping away from the blog for a few days to enjoy the holidays with family and friends. Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! And cheers for Kwanza!

If I believed in conspiracy theories, I would focus all my energies on cookies. Holiday cookies in particular. I would point out people and places and ruthlessly expose the culprits engaged in the great seasonal cookie conspiracy. 

Even now kitchens across the globe look as if they were hit by a sugar explosion. Brigades of bakers armed with cookie cutters, parchment, and spatulas camp out by ovens, big and small.  All types of delicious sweets occupy every single inch of counter space: shortbread, thumbprints, fudge, rum balls, and biscotti. It's torture by sugar and sprinkles.

As the recipient of heaping plates of home-baked sugar cookies, candy, and bread guaranteed to put ten pounds on my hips just by inhaling the savory, once-a-year scents...I am begging for mercy. Somewhere there are people who need all this sugar. But not here. Not in my home. It isn't that I don't appreciate the time and efforts of the holiday bakers -- my thoughtful friends, neighbors, and motivated Hallmark viewers -- I do.  I have a sweet tooth, but I have no willpower. So please, pass the cookie plate by me this year. 

I will appreciate your act of kindness! And, hopefully, this year I'll not have to join a weight loss program only because I yielded yet again to the great cookie conspiracy.

A SILVER ALERT

 One of us is missing. The Silver Alert sign is flashing its warning as I drive down I-95. A Silver Alert sign is as frightening to me as an Amber Alert for missing children. It's chilling. The Silver Alert sign means a lost soul needs help.

I keep an eye out for whatever information the sign has given, usually a make and model of an automobile. It's impossible not to wonder who has gone missing. A father, grandmother, a beloved aunt or uncle. And why are they missing? Did they start out to just run a simple errand and then forgot their way? Or, when no one was looking did they steal the car keys?

Is it a man? Is it a woman? Is the missing one new-old, old-old, or a super-ager?

Are they lost in an unfamiliar town? Perhaps they're running away from a rehab facility...in some cases also known as a nursing home. (I knew someone who escaped from a nursing home. The enterprising senior pushed his walker right into the elevator and down to the parking lot where a car waited. He was discovered and recaptured within twenty-four hours. In the interest of full disclosure, I was married to him. Yes, I drove the getaway car but he told me he'd been released.)

    If you have a writer's imagination you begin to worry about the missing. Those of us over fifty-five years of age are encouraged to live in senior communities. Following the herding instinct, we congregate in these villages to feel safe,  to feel as if we belong. We fall into a mostly comfortable, homogeneous lifestyle. Unless something awesome happens.

 Awesome like the 1985 Ron Howard film "Cocoon." A delightful story of folks living in a retirement community who, one day, trespass into a swimming pool containing alien cocoons. The happy retirees undergo a transformation and emerge energized and with much-appreciated youthful vigor. At film's end, some return to the alien's planet to experience immortality -- without family and friends. They went missing. On a great adventure.

Fantasy is fun but back in the real world, the missing silver seniors have not been whisked away to another planet. Facing reality we understand that the missing just might be lost for the moment...or for all time.

November is National Alzheimer's Awareness Month. Johns Hopkins reminds us that there are 6 million Americans living with this brain disease today. And there are fewer than 1 in 5 of us who are familiar with MCI, mild cognitive impairment, often a precursor to Alzheimer's. MCI is characterized by losing things often, forgetting to go to events or appointments, and having more trouble coming up with words than other people of the same age.

Any senior can go missing at any time. It may not be on the highway when we receive a signal. So as we move forward let us answer the Silver Alerts with compassion. And let's support the Alzheimer's Association in November and in every month. We must keep hope in our hearts. 

We owe it to the missing.

OVERWHELMED?

 Feeling overwhelmed? 

If not, just wait a few weeks...'Tis the season, almost upon us again. However, we can feel overwhelmed at any time, overwhelmed by the simple tasks of daily living that we used to accomplish without even thinking. Feeling overwhelmed may be a normal part of this aging process we're experiencing.

According to research our brains are at their sharpest when we are eighteen years old. By the time we are eighty years old (plus, would be me!) our frontal lobe decline is at twenty-four percent. (No wonder I've been joking about losing brain cells. Turns out, it's no joke!) This, in part, is why our doctors and researchers encourage us to challenge our brains daily with games and crossword puzzles. Or work. Still, it's disconcerting to realize that the brain is not working as well or as quickly as it once did. The synapses are not connecting like they used to. Pretty frightening stuff.

Too often we project an image of being more capable than we really are. We don't want to be a burden to our family. It's a pride thing. If you've always been an independent intelligent person, preserving your image, your very identity, means everything. You've made important decisions, raised a family, and traveled the world. Perhaps you've never needed or wanted anyone to take care of you. Even in the worst of times you've solved the problems, dusted yourself off, got up from the floor, and moved forward.

And then one day it all gets to be too much. The respect you've earned by being a capable, confident human one day falls apart in a mega meltdown of tears and self-recrimination. Mistakes made in the past meld with the present, so minor mistakes, like a forgotten birthday or bill payment.

How does it happen? And when it does, what kind of help is needed? Where can you find support, without giving up your independence? 

Maybe it's time to reorganize. Minimize and live simply.

Know that your family and friends love you. They will support you and help you. First, you...we...must let go of the pride and admit that what you could do so easily fifty years ago, isn't easy anymore. There have been too many mountains to climb, too many bills to pay, and too many doctor visits. Most of all, there have been too many losses of loved ones. And now another loss - the person you used to be. 

Your friends who are relatively of the same age will understand and help you in any way they can, even if just to listen. And to share how they are coping with the same aging problems. Start with a friend but don't hesitate to have honest conversations with your family. 

Adapting to the new you...and me...may take a bit of time. Let's be patient with ourselves.