Aging, And Where The Hell Is All That Grace?

Now I know what you’re probably thinking, “Good Lord, not another middle-ager bellyaching about getting older – why doesn’t she just acknowledge and move on already?” And if this be the case, I would generally tend to side with you. And while I realize that if we’re lucky enough to continue living, it goes without saying that aging is part of the bargain – not my rules, just plain fact. I’m actually ok with is arrangement, for the most part.  I mean when it comes down to it, you either age or die, right? Well, how’s this for an eye-opener: every day you live, you’re that much closer to your death date. From the minute we’re born, we start to age. Sounds depressing, doesn’t it? Believe me, I don’t allow these thoughts to occupy my tiny mind 24/7. To do so would be to squander the precious time I have allotted to me on this planet.  But there are those times, when I wish I could press the “pause” button for just a little while, so I can at least stop and try to appreciate what I still have going for me, before that too starts fading away or falling apart, or plain shrivels up like so much beef jerky. Actually, I’m experiencing more of the “crepe paper” stage, but wrinkles are still wrinkles, it’s just a matter of degree, and time, I suppose.

As I write my little piece, the first installment of what I hope to be many, many more, I am anticipating the completion of my 50th ride around the sun. Which brings me to another minor point for your consideration. How old are we when we’re born? This is not such a crazy question, if you think about it.  When we reach our first birthday, we are one year old. Which means, of course, that we’ve completed one year of our lives, and are now embarking on our second year, and so on. Fast forward to age 50, and I am going to turn 51 in just under two short weeks from now (on 09/09/09, for you numerologists out there). If you follow my line of logic, although I will proclaim my age as 51, I will technically be in my 52^nd year of life. So that means I’m older than I think I am! This is downright depressing! Why, it’s enough to drive one to drink. Hell, no wonder so many older folk turn to such devices (or vices, depending on how you look at it), such as drinking, smoking, gambling or excess food, in order to deal with the trauma of it all.

Given that I am not the only one impacted by the marching of time, I thought it would be useful to share ways of coping, which I have gleaned from different sources along the way. To help make this bitter pill go down a little more smoothly, without pouring, popping or stuffing anything down our throats, and doesn’t cost a dime, I propose the following radical notion: don’t think of yourself as being old – seriously, life is nothing more than a series of tradeoffs, and yes, it’s not hard to see the advantages of youth over age, but there’s some deeper benefits to getting older, too, like having more time on our hands. Presupposing one still possesses a certain amount of good physical and mental health, (that was started and maintained earlier in life), there’s no reason not to pursue those interests that don’t require a whole lot of physical stamina. So even if you don’t move as fast as you used to, keep busy. Let’s face it, life is short and it’s getting even shorter for some of us, and no magic 8-ball can guarantee the next five minutes, so why not make the most of each day? And while we all are aware of the myriad  products and procedures available to help reduce the appearance of the inevitable gray hair, wrinkles and sagging skin, these can be costly with varying and temporary results. Instead of wasting money and taking unnecessary risks with one’s looks, why not learn to accept these changes, or at the very least, avoid dwelling on them?

And if some young whippersnapper feels compelled to make a quip about me being an old lady, I will simply and gently remind them that God has a funny way of getting even with young people who make fun of old people - teeheehee!

Happy hubbing!

~ L.