I wonder sometimes if I come across as glib, or insensitive, or unwilling to allow you more than the occasional peek at who I am, who I am really; at the way I live, at the contradictions in my life which are extreme; at the many lives I inhabit simultaneously.
I am a young woman writing in my journal as I have begun to do nearly daily. I am in Paris in this strange new life in which I hope to make friends, to find a lover, to master a language I adore, to discover more about myself. I am writing for the discipline. I am writing for the thoughts that will reveal themselves in this disorderly process. I am writing because I am always writing and in this way I am reshaping the woman I am into the woman I will become.
If I remain at some remove it is instinctual as well as learned; I am the willing puppeteer in my own protected persona – the young woman dancing, still, in my head; the wiser head inside this fifty-something body, this configuration of features and organs that do their job.
Distance and Proximity
I do not intend to place distance between us, yet I prefer to leave imagination intact – yours for taking from my words whatever may serve you, and my own, because I rely on imagination to nourish me, to challenge me, to transport me, to cradle me from the inevitable fall when I wake each morning. The burdens of daylight seem more pressing than in the hours of sleep I cull from night.
What weighs on me is surely commonplace: the stresses of aging even when we are basically healthy; the expectations of a self that remains intact in the mind but is betrayed by the changing body; the very real pressures of making a living as we grow older and are perceived as less “desirable” than those with fewer years under their belts and presumed to be more agile in thinking, reacting, executing, delivering.
Yet I know my dexterity when it comes to anticipating, problem-solving, executing, and delivering.
I am a married woman, I am a mother, I am a corporate manager and still, in the middle of the night I am sleepless and seated at my laptop in the den. I take solace in lines of poetry and shreds of short story I never seem to complete. I tap out my worries and my wonderment. I try to dispel the fog of my fatigue. This is not the life I imagined but it is a life I value nonetheless: there is a husband, there are babies, there are people who count on me. There are words, the sweet center of something unseen by others; there are words, even if I am the only one to read them.
The Public Face
I do not intend to come across as facile or ingenuous; I write according to mood or headline, or dream. I write from places of tenderness, of confidence, of amusement, and occasionally, outrage. I express myself in a tone and manner that flows accordingly, though I know myself to be fumbling for my footing daily.
This is nothing new.
And so it is here, here that I examine and mark my path, here that I know myself to be simultaneously directed and meandering, here that I elaborate on dream, that I comment on media, that I pluck elements of real life, spinning the threads of conversation into hues to my liking and hoping, however awkwardly, that they will serve some larger purpose.
I insist on a public face because this is adulthood, this is single motherhood as the nest has emptied, this is life after so many chapters that I cannot note them all nor place them in proper sequence. Despite my distance, I exploit the personal if I believe it is useful. I hold tight to key aspects of privacy for myself, and for others. I share because I am driven to learn and do so in this manner. I am determined to teach, committed to encouraging, dedicated to my continuing search for courage, persistent in expecting answers to at least a few of the questions; answers enough to keep myself going.
Aging… in Context
If I am writing of age-related issues more frequently perhaps it is because I am up against certain obstacles as a result of them. Perhaps it is because I feel my aging more acutely, more bitterly, more strangely at the moment. You see? Contradictions, not absolutes. The genuine pleasures at this stage balanced, tenuously, on a sort of seesaw, across from solidly seated sorrows.
I see nothing unusual in any of this, and nor am I particularly emotional in thinking of it or writing of it. Yet what I see is our staggering fear of aging when once it was placed in a more natural context, part of the cycle of life (trite though that may sound), as we were held to the bosom of family in birth, as signs of age were not scorned but considered the accompaniment of wisdom; as we were held to the bosom of family and gently surrendered in death.
But this is not the culture we live in. This is not the way of our times.
How old is too old for dreams? If there are more years behind us than those ahead, do we still dare to give those dreams light?
How Old is Too Old?
Asking how old is too old is an age-old question. We ask how old is too old when it comes to fashion and style, wondering if we can still pull off a certain look – or if it even matters.
We ask how old is too old to start a family. As a midlife mother, I’ve covered that ground and expressed my concerns, not for the early years but rather, for the grind that is the inevitable process as children grow and need and need more, especially as they approach puberty and once they reach adolescence.
We wonder if we are too old to start over – in a new city, a new country; in a new career, in a new office. We wonder if we are too old to love again because trust has been broken, beliefs have been battered; we are fragile and would rather not put ourselves at risk again.
We remind ourselves of core beliefs: I believe in saying yes to opportunities at any age – to making friends, to dating, to touching. I have practiced yes and delighted in it; I will always choose yes over no, if given a chance. But how old is too old when it comes to giving yourself to loving, to committed loving? How old is too old for pursuing dreams, for digging your way out of darkness, for feeling alive in dark times?
One Day At a Time
Once, I would’ve cheerfully said we are never too old to imagine a future, to pursue our dreams, to celebrate a perpetual state of becoming.
And yet, the seesaw.
Calmly, frankly, and speaking only for myself – at a certain stage of life, it seems natural to weigh and measure with increasing care. I am willing to take risks and do, but the practicalities are difficult to dismiss or dispense with. The potential costs of failure are greater than five years ago or ten or twenty: There is less time for recovery; there are no resources for rebuilding; limitless stores of energy are a thing of the past.
So tell me what you think, what you suggest, what you accept, what you divine.
- Is 50 too old for some pursuits, and still spry and sparkling enough for others?
- What about 60? Or 70? Or 80?
- How old is too old for starting over?
- Is it a matter of your health, your bank account, your support systems?
- Can you trust any part of your future to another person in the second half of your life, knowing that if things turn wrong, you may not recover?
I am convinced that I can convince myself of anything; I believe in resilience, in determination, in setting goals and pursuing them, but I know these to be American traits and the expectations we are conditioned to profess. Yet wounds reopen: I am tired, I am isolated, I weep easily. The days are simultaneously long and all too brief. In dreams, I am free and strong, and the words write themselves in high spirits and fellowship. Will I wake and be able to retain their optimism?
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Brilliant, as usual. You are great! Keep them coming 🙂
Thank you, Jan. You’re most kind. My place of musing… and hopefully, others will find something useful in it.
I’m less of a dreamer and more of a doer, hopefully. Planning ahead… yes. Maybe a guy thing, maybe just me. Having to accept age because that’s part of life. But accepting age is not the same as to roll over and play dead. Fran and I were hiking a couple of days ago and wanted to cross a creek. Fallen tree was an opportunity – just like we did when we first met a decade ago. At that time, we did a night crossing in rain on a down tree. Would likely have broken a limb or two if either of us had slipped then. But this time we passed – balance not as good as it used to be. And so we found some stones to make a stepping-stone bridge across an area that was already well stoned. Might have gotten our feet soaked – but we crossed dry. A decade from now – who knows? But we’ll find a way to cross.
Being a dreamer does not preclude being a doer, Paul – though I realize that isn’t what you were implying. I do think there are differences (certainly culturally) in how women experience aging, versus men; in how single women experience aging versus those who are surrounded by family. And that isn’t to say that men don’t face obstacles of many sorts in aging as well.
What I would hope is that we begin to speak of all of them to dispel the fear and the walls around seeing ourselves as we are, rather than as we (or the media) tell us we “should be.”
On one hand I’d say I’m too old to start over. If I lost everything financially, I’d likely never make it back to this point. On the other hand one does start over every morning, so it’s largely a matter of perspective. Life keeps changing, so starting over is often a necessity, as in beginning the next chapter.
I’m too old to pass for 30 and probably even 40. I don’t even want to try. I don’t heal as quickly as I once did and I don’t have as much energy. On the other hand, I’m fitter than most 56 year olds I knew growing up (but not more than other similarly aged members of my running club). I can still ride a bike, and I can take up yoga or pilates or even zumba, but I wouldn’t try rock climbing or bungie jumping. I think I’d need to get HRT if I wanted to take up burlesque or belly dancing, not that I can’t do them, they just aren’t that amusing without hormones.
If I want to keep my dignity, I’m too old to wear shorts or bikinis or a whole list of other things I associate with youth, like Peter Pan collars and cute hair ornaments, but this might just be me. I don’t have the figure or the bone structure to pull off what Ilona Smithkin or Carmen Dell’Orifice can, but even Jerry Hall says it’s not good to wear the same clothes as one’s daughter!
I don’t think I’m too old to begin a new career if I were suddenly to be bitten with some great talent or desire. However, having already retired and not needing the money I’m afraid this is unlikely to happen. I’m not too old to make new friends – I’m still doing that as opportunities arise. I’m not too old to learn new skills, I’m developing new cooking, sewing and computing skills weekly if not daily.
If something happened to this marriage would I be too old to have another relationship? I think one can find love at virtually any age, but whether I would choose to share my house or to marry again, I’m not sure. I might feel happier if I didn’t. Hopefully I won’t find this out for a very long time, but I realise there are no guarantees. I do know I’m too old – and too independent – to be a ‘trophy wife’. It’s not a title I’ve ever been interested in having, though I know many women seem to pursue this as their ideal. My definition of marrying ‘well’ is to marry a nice man, not necessarily a wealthy one.
Shelly, Thank you for commenting with such thoughtfulness and clarity. I loved reading through your process of answering the questions. It’s helpful. Very helpful.
Love this and I haven’t stopped thinking since I read it. I have decided that I am too old to do things I don’t want to do anymore, like run Spaghetti Supper night at the school. Or attend a stadium concert again. I loved seeing U2 but the 80,000 other guests were on my nerves. I lament that I am too old for some fashion. Not to mention my butt is too big. I am definitely too old for making adjustments for other people so that they can stay in their happy place or comfort zone.
On the flip side, I’ve decided that if I want to do it, I’m not to old for it. 🙂
Love your responses, Pennie!
I never really contemplate on my age. I least I don’t remember doing so. ;0)
There are just too many things to be done. The band has a gig in two weeks; we’re doing a flash mob. (A what?) Mom and Dad are going on a trip at the end of the month. We need to watch their sickly, elderly cat for seven daze. How will our beasties take to a strange old cat in the house? My scooter and ten-speed bicycle need to be fixed up for the coming riding season. My friends are playing in a theater production of Chicago; we must go.
That and the minor inconvenience of having having to learn a new job with all new tools. Oh, and don’t forget the new two hour commute. Is it time to walk the dawgly yet?
I could go on and on. But I think I’ll sip my coffee and just take it easy today, now that my TODO list for the day is complete. I wonder if Suzy feels frisky… Age doesn’t even come into play… yet.
I’m pondering similar questions and I know how difficult they are to decide upon. Health, finances, dating, and career; having all four to deal with is stressful and lately I’ve been hoping for progress/decisions in just one of them to move forward. I can’t help except to say that you aren’t alone.
“Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at twenty or eighty. Anyone who keeps learning stays young. The greatest thing in life is to keep your mind young.”
Henry Ford
“…as we were held to the bosom of family in birth, as signs of age were not scorned but wisdom, appreciated; as we were held to the bosom of family and gently surrendered in death.”
Yes, my mountain flower, yes. Up against the Moorish Wailing Wall of fading forms we form some soft gathering place for spirit, wordless yet suffused with love.
I’m with Pennie; I’m far too old to waste time on people or pursuits that don’t interest me. I’m too old for skinny jeans or mini-skirts, and other superficial things. I’m not too old to be comfortable to be in my own skin, to keep trying for things I desire, and to believe there are still many adventures in my future!
Well, I am 87 years old and I also wonder at how old is to be old and to stop doing the things that we always enjoyed in life. I like to water ski, ride motorcycle, roller skating, bicycling and lots of other things that I did all my life, but people ask me, don’t you think that you are too old for that? It really hits me right inside me when I hear this. Same with driving a car, they ask you if you still have a driving license, thank GOD I haven’t had a driving violation in many many years. I also would like to get marry again and start a new family, that will be great, as I am divorced with 7 grown up kids and 13 grandchildren. Well, GOD is the only one who knows what the future will bring. I can wait, as I am only 87.
Alberto, I’m delighted you stopped by to read and comment. It sounds like you are 87 years young, in everything you do and think and appreciate. I hope you will read often and comment often as well. We need the male point of view around here, as well as the wisdom and vibrancy of those with many life lessons to share.
I’m curious. As a divorced man who is older, how do you meet women?
Hokusai said that all he had done before the age of 70 was not worth bothering with.
Great post and some very good comments. At 64 I find I am constantly asking myself this question And it occurs to me that the reason I keep asking it is because there are still so many dreams and things I want to do. What really is the difference between me and a 44 yr old? An older, more easily tired body, but mentally not a lot. In fact I have the luxury of not having dependents, my decisions largely effect myself and my husband.
It is dawning on me that this whole question of ‘am I too old?’ is part of this mental construct that we have about aging. We may not suffer quietly the foolish and boring things in life but inherently we still don’t want to appear ridiculous or embarrass ourselves by trying and failing. I think too that as we have become more competent in some life areas we are less willing to take risks, to be a novice in some other areas. Me? I am just a 40 yr old in a 64 yr old body and I am going for what I want to do whether I fall, fail or discover that I am just not very good at those things. I have to maintain a financial basis and plan for the future but beyond that I am not going to put limits on my dreams or build a fence marked TOO Old around what life has to offer. If finding the mental or physical energy is hard, so be it, the hunt for new wisdom, pleasures and discoveries alone is worth it.
Fabulous approach, Mela. Much for all of us to learn here, whatever our age.