It sucks getting older, it really does.
It's not the age or numbers part that bothers me, but that I am physically diminished, my mental acuity isn't as on point as it once was, my ability to see clearly, without glasses is gone.
So let me break this down a little.
I made the comment at work last week that it really sucked getting older and was told that 'it's not a privilege accorded to everyone'.
I sat and thought about it, and thought some more and really wanted to revisit the comment with that person, but then decided I could maybe explain here.
I'm actually glad I am the age I am, for the most part. I like the wisdom I've accumulated over the years. A lot of the time I know when to pick a battle and when to step away.
I appreciate so much more now, than I ever did. I know I'm getting towards the twilight of my life, if you want to be fanciful.
I'm just a few years younger than my father was when he died. And that's a sobering thought. I look now at my parents and try to remember what they were like when they were my age, now.
Back then, I thought they were kinda old. Really, I did. And in many respects, they were. I don't feel as old as they were when they were my age, but we also live in a different time. When you hit your sixties, you were expected to slow down, sit back, not participate in life as much.
It is different now. I wasn't ready for a rocking chair, however much I would enjoy just sitting in one and rocking. In fact, I was so much not ready, that at the age of 63 I started working again, in a restaurant, as a cook.
I don't work long hours, but I'm ready to put my feet up when I get home.
However, what I started to say is that there is also a certain amount of frustration that comes along with getting older.
I don't have the physical strength I once prided myself on, I have to ask for help, whereas once upon a time, hell would have frozen before I asked for help.
I'm shorter than everyone else at work, I think, so sometimes I have to ask for help reaching something. However, I've been short most of my life and I'm accustomed to it. I have workarounds that I've employed for years. Maybe I can't reach everything on the top shelf in the grocery store, but I can knock down stuff with the best of them.
I know my memory isn't as good as it used to be, and that is frustrating, but I've accepted it as a gradual part of aging. When I want to use a word and can't remember it, I forgive myself, I've learned that the harder I try to remember, the longer it takes for that elusive word to be remembered.
I'm comfortable with myself now in ways I never was as a young woman, I'm accepting and forgiving of myself to an extent that still surprises me.
I'm OK with the wrinkles, the gray hair, the slightly looser skin on my body.
But it still sucks getting older when I can't do all the things I used to do.
I have to accept that I'm in a new reality now, and while it's different, it's not a bad reality, and I can live with that.
It's not the age or numbers part that bothers me, but that I am physically diminished, my mental acuity isn't as on point as it once was, my ability to see clearly, without glasses is gone.
So let me break this down a little.
I made the comment at work last week that it really sucked getting older and was told that 'it's not a privilege accorded to everyone'.
I sat and thought about it, and thought some more and really wanted to revisit the comment with that person, but then decided I could maybe explain here.
I'm actually glad I am the age I am, for the most part. I like the wisdom I've accumulated over the years. A lot of the time I know when to pick a battle and when to step away.
I appreciate so much more now, than I ever did. I know I'm getting towards the twilight of my life, if you want to be fanciful.
I'm just a few years younger than my father was when he died. And that's a sobering thought. I look now at my parents and try to remember what they were like when they were my age, now.
Back then, I thought they were kinda old. Really, I did. And in many respects, they were. I don't feel as old as they were when they were my age, but we also live in a different time. When you hit your sixties, you were expected to slow down, sit back, not participate in life as much.
It is different now. I wasn't ready for a rocking chair, however much I would enjoy just sitting in one and rocking. In fact, I was so much not ready, that at the age of 63 I started working again, in a restaurant, as a cook.
I don't work long hours, but I'm ready to put my feet up when I get home.
However, what I started to say is that there is also a certain amount of frustration that comes along with getting older.
I don't have the physical strength I once prided myself on, I have to ask for help, whereas once upon a time, hell would have frozen before I asked for help.
I'm shorter than everyone else at work, I think, so sometimes I have to ask for help reaching something. However, I've been short most of my life and I'm accustomed to it. I have workarounds that I've employed for years. Maybe I can't reach everything on the top shelf in the grocery store, but I can knock down stuff with the best of them.
I know my memory isn't as good as it used to be, and that is frustrating, but I've accepted it as a gradual part of aging. When I want to use a word and can't remember it, I forgive myself, I've learned that the harder I try to remember, the longer it takes for that elusive word to be remembered.
I'm comfortable with myself now in ways I never was as a young woman, I'm accepting and forgiving of myself to an extent that still surprises me.
I'm OK with the wrinkles, the gray hair, the slightly looser skin on my body.
But it still sucks getting older when I can't do all the things I used to do.
I have to accept that I'm in a new reality now, and while it's different, it's not a bad reality, and I can live with that.
