MENTAL HEALTH

I originally published this blog in January. But since May is officially Mental Health Awareness month I'm republishing. May is quickly running out and the subject is too important to mention only once a year.

Is the new mental health awareness helpful to those of advanced age? Oh, yes!

Those of us living in the midst (and oftentimes mist) of the  golden years can be grateful that we live in a time when mental health struggles and solutions are at last coming out of the darkness and into the light. It’s a light for seniors shine.

Early in the days of struggling with careers and family, (circa 60’s) my longtime friend Judith and I used to fall into an occasional funk (aka depression) aggravated by a heavy dose of exhaustion. In addition, both of us being brought up in New England and having had built-in guilt drilled into our psyches, we dealt with all the issues of women during those changing times - and more. We would regularly angst about work problems, children challenges, money concerns, family conflicts, former boyfriends (the ones we should have married) and what all this bra burning really meant. We were not activist, just women determined to live life our way. (Which was not much different than a man’s way. This type of twisted (not) thinking often led to battles with male colleagues.)

In the interest of full disclosure, Judith and I did most of our angsting accompanied by a glass of scotch or a generous pour of wine…or two.   

At the time, the stigma of mental health issues was strong. Folks did not put grandma out on the front porch where her ramblings could be heard. They hid her. No one was anxious to admit to the “weakness.” inherent in requiring therapy. Especially if you were raised in New England like Judith and me. Still, being strong willed women risking a heavy case of stigma would not have let that stop us from seeking professional help…if we could have afforded therapy.

Thankfully, awareness and intelligence is close to triumphing over the stigma born of ignorance.

Judith and I found venting to one another was always helpful. Women venting to women is as old as time. Before Freud there were women sharing their secrets and fears with one another. The ability to talk to a trustworthy confidant was key to “getting ahold of ourselves.” 

A conversation of intelligence, honesty and kindness offer support. For anyone, any gender, anything, anytime. To this day. In the 60’s it was paramount. Judith and I used basic commands.

“Get ahold of yourself!” was a popular admonition as was, “Get a grip!”

 “Snap out of it,” is still a favorite to this day. If nothing else, such commands made us laugh. As if.

According to National Institute of Mental Health at least 1 in 4 older adults experience some mental disorder, the most prevalent being anxiety, depression and dementia. It’s expected due to the aging population this number will double by 2030.

Depression is the most common mental health issue with older people.  Anxiety is a close second. And dementia the most feared.

I have been an optimist all my life. My friends have even accused me of being a boring Pollyanna. But a few months ago I fell into a fairly deep depression.

Depression that hit me in waves. My attempts to talk myself out of it were unsuccessful. I was not interested in writing another book. The industry has changed so much and I felt too old to churn out as many a year as needed.

Also, I was alive longer than I’d planned. Most of my friends had passed. I was living in a new town where I knew no one except for family members. The reason I was in a new town was to be close to family. But no one wants to bother busy family unless absolutely necessary. I dwelled in a place called “alone.”  Although I was grateful for my reasonably good health and my daughter who kept urging me to “get out.”  Still, I was stuck. I took morning naps and afternoon naps. Always exhausted, I didn’t know what to do.

How do you plan a new future when you’re in your eighties? How long can any new plans or a new future, last?

I’m not certain of the time frame when my depression lifted. I believe it started when I rescued a puppy. Someone with big brown eyes and a wagging tail was depending on me. When talking to the dog was not enough, I enrolled in a lifelong learning class for some brain activity and engaging discussion. What followed was a volunteer application. Finally, an organization which could use my skills and experience.

And then, well I currently have no time to be depressed.

The CDC notes than depression, although common, is not a normal part of growing older and 80% of cases of depression are treatable. Yes, I thought my “elderly” depression was normal. I could have been feeling a lot better way more quickly had I not assumed.

Mental health awareness and treatment has come a long way in just the last twenty years. Education is readily available. Treatment methods have improved. Unfortunately, I was just too stubborn to look for help. And I didn’t know exactly what I was dealing with.

Recognizing the signs is important for getting treatment. While there are quite a few symptoms of mental disorder in aging seniors just a few cited by the National Institute of Health and NIMH include, and not necessarily in this order:

1) Change in mood, energy level or appetite

2) Feeling flat, having trouble feeling positive emotions

3) Misuse of alcohol or drugs

4) Difficulty sleeping or sleeping too much

5) Feeling angry, irritable or aggressive

6) Thoughts of death or suicide or suicide attempts

7) Misuse of alcohol or drugs

 

If you or anyone you know would like some help with a mental health issue, or if you’re ever in doubt like I was, reach out to a professional near you or call 988, the National Suicide and Crisis line.

 

 

 

BEWARE OF THE UNWRITTEN RULES

 There are unwritten rules for those of us over 65….75 years of age, and more. Many of us are probably not even aware of how minor accidents in our daily lives impact these rules. (Minor being relative) These unspoken rules are made and adhered to by our children. As we age they watch for common incidents as markers for determining our future. They are always watching. Do you wobble when you walk? I do occasionally. Big sigh here. The bottom line is we may be ready for an assisted living facility and not know it. But your children will.

Sharing these incidents - and others - might lead to dire consequences. Never, never share the following with your children.

 

1.) The accidental fire you started in the kitchen when you forgot the burner was still on. (Firefighters became involved.)

2.) The minor automobile accident. You mistook the distance and took out a power pole. Backed right into it. The old wooden pole cracked and fell. (Police and a representative from the power company paid a visit to you.)

3.) The fall you took. You stubbed a toe and subsequently just fell over your own feet. This happened on the street and was witnessed by a Good Samaritan. Therefore you were rushed by ambulance to the ER and x-rayed for a possible broken hip. (A resident and a sweet nurse put you in a wheel chair and sent you home via Uber.)

 

To safeguard your secrets you may have to change your emergency contact on any important documents. The immediate consequences of sharing any of these incidents will have your children looking to place you in a care facility because obviously you cannot live alone.

Some of the most important unwritten rules have now been written.

SURRENDERING THE KEYS TO THE KINGDOM

 I recently read a story about a ninety-three year old woman who surrendered her car keys to her family. She no longer felt confident in her ability to be a good driver. Another ninety-three year old, a neighbor of mine drove until the day he died. He was a dangerous man.

Our car keys are our keys to the kingdom. They are the keys to our freedom and independence. Many drivers will not give them up without a fight.

I would not be one of them. I don’t like to drive and never have. But my keys represent that precious freedom and independence I’m not willing to give up. No, I’ll put up with all the crazy drivers on the road. I’ll ignore  road rage, drivers without a license, and worse, drivers without insurance. I’ll even put up with the high price of automobile insurance for a while longer.

White-haired drivers unfairly take a lot of the blame for road accidents. (One of the reasons I wear a hat during a good deal of my driving time.) We Superagers have years of experience behind the wheel. We are excellent drivers.

Besides, many states give regular age-driven driver tests which help eliminate the really poor drivers, seniors or not. Granted, there are drivers who no longer can see over the steering wheel…due to body shrinking, or cannot hear well, let’s say they cannot hear another car horn tooting a warning.

Every now and then there’s a slippage.  Drivers who may have a bit of a memory problem slip through the cracks. You’ve seen the Silver Alert signs. I worry about those drivers most of all.

Everyone does.

And some people don’t think the safe guards in place are enough. They want a mandatory age shut off.  For instance, they advocate a program which at 65, your driver’s license…keys and car…are taken away.

No. That’s just wrong.

There are organizations like AARP that offer refresher driving instruction and may reduce the insurance.  In addition many local Council on Aging organizations offer transportation.

And just because I don’t like to drive doesn’t mean I don’t want or need to drive. I’m eighty-three and have not caused any traffic accidents…that I know about.

Ever.

I still have places to go, things to do. Adventures ahead that require an automobile. Fortunately for us we live in the time of the Uber driver. We make a call and a car and driver comes to take us where we need to go. Our adventures do not come to an end just because we hit a parking sign backing up.

Hopefully, I’ll be wise enough to know when it’s time to surrender my keys. Which isn’t now.  What are your thoughts?

 

 

THE END

 It’s about to end. The season will be over in a matter of weeks. (sigh)

I am a huge football fan which is odd given that I am not a violent person. I never think about nor write about force, thumping and bumping. I wince when I see dangerous collisions on the evening television news, feeling the pain. In my person encounters I avoid even the mildest confrontation whenever possible.  But I truly enjoy football season. Although it wasn’t always that way.

When I was a high school cheerleader, I had no idea how the game was played or what the rules were. Touchdowns were important. I knew that. Instead of learning about the game, I focused on the chilling fact that I was standing on an open, windswept field in the New England winter dressed in a short skirt, leaping into the frigid air and cheering for I knew not what. The corduroy fabric of the skirt did not keep me warm as pants might have. But we’re talking the 50’s here, and girls did not wear pants no matter what. Frostbite included. At least the squad was allowed wool socks.

Years, no decades, later I understand how the game is played and I love it. I love it so much that I have watched my home team lose game after game, after game. Our team has broken all NFL records for losing. (In all fairness there were signs of improvement with a few games won this year.)

And this is where I’d like to dispel a few myths regarding women and football in my experience. Not just your average woman…but your older, pleasantly mature women.

1) Grandmothers do play fantasy football. (Woe to those who underestimate her!)

2) Great-grandmothers often discuss games with their “girl” friends.

3) Super-Agers rate more players than just the quarterback on their appearance. (Mainly anatomy because that’s about the only aspect you can see clearly passed the pads and uniforms.)

There are thirty-two teams in the NFL and according to the last available stats...there are 84 million women football fans watching. More than likely this figure from USA Today has tripled. Another source records 45% of the fan base is women and 32% are avid fans, aged sixty-five and older. “Over 80 for Brady,” is a movie based on truly passionate New England fans of the now retired quarterback. (I expect these great ladies are still football fans, even without Brady.)

When the Super Bowl rolls around, we all know what that means. At the end of the game the start of a long, long, long, long off-season.

Did I mention long?

A HAPPY NEW 2024 YEAR!

 I’ve never been one for making New Year’s resolutions but I usually set goals and do a good bit of reflection on the past year and what the future might hold. Dressed in my flannel jammies, curled up with a hot cocoa and my faithful dog Charlie by my side, this year I watched the celebrations on television from afar, safe and warm.

I’m an optimist and I look forward to the promise in a new year, the surprises certainly in store, and the new beginnings - in my case mostly the opening hook of a new novel work. I write humor because I believe laughter gets us through the rough patches.

The year 2023 was different for me because I did not set a goal, spend time in reflection nor make a resolution. I did attempt to create a vision board for the first time, a project which ended after two items were pasted on the empty board. I may return to it sometime in ’24.

Early last year I sold my house and moved to Fernandina Beach as a renter. The blue bungalow just screamed writer’s cottage. Inspiration was sure to follow - but wait. Not yet.

I can hear the ocean from my porch. A most wonderful and familiar sound from my childhood. I was not forced at gunpoint but rather encouraged to make the move to follow my daughter and the rest of the family. You cannot be over 65 years of age and live an hour away or more from your children. There’s a rule. (I’ll be blogging about the complete list of rules soon.)

It took me longer than usual to settle into my new home and hometown. But I did finish edits on a book that was subsequently released by the publisher in September and in the fall I attended a six-week lifelong learning course on the future of humankind and learned AI will be writing my books before long. Still, loved the discussions, the information on climate control, electric vehicles, and in general the amazing future if we stay calm and do not hurt each other. (Meaning no more wars) I’ll be taking more classes and continuing to be a volunteer for the Heritage Keepers Project. (Deja vue to my broadcast days.)

It’s been a long time since I’ve entertained but I hosted dinner for the family on Christmas day. There were almost a dozen people who came to dinner in the little blue bungalow. A cozy but cool afternoon and evening. I might have been a bit tired the next day, but I survived.

Did I mention my editor left the publishing company I was with? No? Well, there may be suspicions out there, but honestly, I did not run her off with this last book. “Murder at the Blue Oyster Grill” has had excellent reviews!

And then there were the inevitable heartbreaking losses during 2023, including friends who cannot be replaced. Grief. Old and new set in, in 2023. As I imagine it will in 2024. It’s life.

New Year’s Eve, 2024 has passed. I did not set new goals and only briefly reflected on the past and future.

I’ve been thinking about writing new blogs on the adventures of aging and perhaps a new fiction novel dedicated to providing fun and entertainment to my readers. Perhaps a new editor and publisher are in my future. A new website may be involved. And I’ll be investigating new travel adventures. Because that’s what I’ve always done. These things make me happy. They are what and who I am: a mother, grand-mother, great-grandmother, friend, former broadcaster, and a writer thankful for the gift.

My hope is that you will find your happiness in the new year. Be kind, be safe, be well. Most of all, welcome laughter into your life.

And have a very Happy New Year!

 

 

A NEW LOOK AT LONGETIVITY

 I have just received my degree as a certified futurist thanks to a wonderful lifelong learning course. A six-week course that sent me on a path to thinking about and researching longevity in the last few weeks. The impact may be even greater than the change. Are you ready?

According to the CDC, currently the average life span in the U.S. today is 77.5 years. Yet more and more people living are to 100 years and more, and what are we to do with the prediction that living to an active 125 years will soon be attainable. If you’re eager to live that long.

Frankly, I’m not. I am already twenty-four years past my expiration date and often feel, well, tired. I’ve put two careers behind me and now it looks as if I’ll need a third. (Of course, once you reach a certain age, you can’t plan too far in advance. A new five-year business plan might be out of the question.) Still.

Globally, the World Health Organization, WHO, predicts that by 2050 the population aged 60 years or more will double, while those aged 80 years or more will number 400 million persons. This extension of the lifespan is looked upon as a triumph of medical advances stemming from access to better treatments as well as a focus on preventive therapies.  

So I’m asking…is 80 fast becoming the new 70 in human years?

You’ll notice I have more questions than answers.

Longevity has been attributed to DNA, a positive attitude, a Blue Zone lifestyle - work, a plant based diet, red wine - and socialization. So-called, super-agers also may experience a metabolic slowdown, a slowdown of the aging process…which includes the brain. (Apparently Henry Kissinger at 100 years of age was still serving as a consultant on foreign affairs just before he passed.) But apparently one size does not fit all. One book on how to live longer does not apply to everyone.

Are we interested in longevity because we fear the alternative?

We do know that heart disease and cancer are the two most common causes of death at any age. Both are subjects to ongoing research with increasing positive survival rates. Some speculate specific targeting will eradicate cancer altogether in the near future. It’s already being done with varying degrees of success for different types of the disease. Early detection whether by chance or testing is the very best option.

Genome editing (changing the DNA of a cell or organism) holds great promise for cancer and a variety of diseases. Like AI, however, Genome editing carries a multitude of ethical concerns.

AI has taken its place in operating rooms. Over the last six years, I have had OR robots perform two quite different and successful surgeries on me - with the assistance of talented surgeons.

So, yes, I think we should fear AI and also be very grateful.

The medical community has already made great advancements in the skeletal department. We are fortunate to have an array of replacement parts…hip, knee, arms, elbows, etc. (And there are parts you can live quite nicely without, like the appendix.)

So many advancements have been made in the last fifty years; imagine what the next fifty will bring!  A cure for the common cold?

And then if you’re feeling young and great, the next step is clear.

Cosmetic surgery can completely transform the human body, removing years of wear and tear. A boom for the anti-aging population - mostly women. Although, I wonder why thirty year old women are subjecting to Botox injections on a regular basis. I don’t understand the big lips either, fish lips…rather resemble grouper lips. But perhaps with whatever procedures you choose, you’ll be able to look more like a 95 year old when you’re 125.

Is that a good thing?

When I did a small informal poll asking if folks would like to live to 125 most said yes as long as they enjoyed a good quality of life. Quality of life is soo subjective. And chancy!

The eldest in many cultures are revered for their wisdom which is a good thing. But what if in this new age of aging, the information you possessed at 100 years was irrelevant by the time you were 125? What then will you offer? (Just gives me goose bumps!)

One of my friends once told me, “I’m not afraid to die. I just don’t want to miss anything.”

And there’s that.

 

 

MY TRUTH

 I recently fell into a funk, unusual for this positive thinker, and the only way out was the truth. Sadly. Or not. So this is my truth.

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, 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 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 sometimes 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 that 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 I’m over eighty and a 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. Advanced aging (85 years plus) does not make us exceptional. It only makes us privileged. Admit it, super-ager has a nice ring!

 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 a certain 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. (Or anti-aging, but that’s a whole different bucket of worms and a three or four page essay.)

My late 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 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. Alas! I cannot visit Machu Picchu any longer. 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. So how did I escape the obsession/depression of aging? 

By pure accident I’ve 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 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. You may not be able to make a five year plan in good conscious but making a plan for today is totally reasonable. It’s called living in the present.

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. I am an old woman. I must acknowledge I look quite like other old women. Women I pass on the street. 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 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 unequivocably 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 focused on our 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, and 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?