Better Late Than Never?

“Better late than never.” It’s a useful perspective at times, don’t you think? It’s particularly useful when you’re confronting unintended, unexpected, or problematic delays. And it’s a phrase I’ve used on myself when I’ve procrastinated and then, finally, taken myself to task — and returned myself to the task at hand. What sort of task? Hello? How about opening my languishing laptop?

“Better late than never” is also a phrase that comes to mind as I consider former VP Joe Biden’s recent performance in South Carolina’s primary — a just-in-time “save” for his campaign — relevant (perhaps?) to those of us who are obsessing over the Democratic primaries, deeply concerned about nominating a winning candidate to defeat you-know-who.

Obsessing. Yup. Me.

Deeply concerned. Yup. Me.

You, too?

Suffice it to say, part of my absence online these past weeks and months is due to consuming All Things Political. That drive to become better informed and more activated, a matter of standing up to the malaise that many of us feel as each day seems to bring a new concern.

That said, I’m subject to acknowledging that “better late than never” — with regard to writing and engaging in conversation, here — is also due to ambivalence. Do I still want to blog? What else could I be doing instead? What is it costing me in both time and dollars? What is it giving me? What is it giving you, if anything?

I’ve been rethinking the reasons that I began this endeavor more than 10 years ago — remember this? — throwing myself into Daily Plate of Crazy with wonder, delight, humor, curiosity, discipline, and enthusiasm.

That “me” seems a long time ago. That fun me. Not surprising, right? It’s been a decade! So much has changed! My kids are grown and flown. (Not without the predictable amount of blood, sweat, and tears.) I stumbled my way through an entertaining post-50 dating life (so many lessons). I experienced the rollercoaster ride of one significant, long-term relationship — wonderful for the first few years, and then, not so much. I fought the frequently brutal battles of financial survival that are characteristic of the gig worker, a.k.a. portfolio worker, contractor, or freelancer — a lifestyle crafted of necessity and fraught with insecurity. And, more wrenching and difficult than I could have imagined, I sold my little home (not by choice), uprooted my life not once but twice, started over with mixed results (not once but twice), continuing with baby steps forward — I hope.

Throughout these years, I have experienced the challenges inherent in the American health care system, challenges that millions of us face, with the delivery of appropriate services (and prescriptions) frequently elusive not only in terms of access and affordability but quality.

I’ve tried to make the most of whatever life dishes out, and see only patchy performance on my part, successful at remaining passionate and pragmatic at times while succumbing to disappointment and its inevitable downward slide more often than I would like. And I find myself wondering if what I’m giving in to is the series of doors that seem to be slamming shut, increasingly, due to age, or more precisely, aging and ageism.

Is that impression real? Is it an excuse? Is it a combination of the two?

It is not in my nature to “succumb” to anything, at least, not for long. When I fall off the horse, I force myself to get back up. Nonetheless, each year, as energy and resources dwindle, it’s harder to get back up.

But is that real? Is it an excuse? Is it a bit of both?

If I have shared less here in the past year, know that I feel more compelled to protect myself, to be circumspect as the Internet grows more troubled and troubling; trolls, robots, and anger are so prevalent that I’ve cut back all social media engagement.

If I have shared less here in the past year, know that I’ve dedicated time to physical therapy-related rehab of muscles too long neglected. That little journey, like so many others, is dependent upon money, and a path with its own particular ups and downs.

If I have shared less here in the past year, know that it is what I have needed to do, opting for a less pressed and stressed schedule, and a focus on taking a breath after so many years of the single mother’s crazy, crammed, often chaotic lifestyle.

But what am I missing? What about connections that can be achieved here, still? What about the learning and camaraderie that takes place? What about looking at the proverbial glass as half full, even in worrisome and divisive times? Am I capable of it? Are you?

I have no answers. I’m not sure how I feel about any of this. I’m curious to know how you feel about it. I’m curious to know if you care to read a stranger’s words on the topic of the day.

Meanwhile, I’m convinced that I can use “better late than never” as motivation. Motivation to fill my schedule with words, which I once so enjoyed — and not only the words of politicians and pundits. Motivation to persist through the bad days and look forward to the good ones, including good days for this nation, even as the realities of aging out of certain opportunities continue.

And, as I grapple with my choice of candidate in an upcoming primary — will I really remain undecided as I stride into the voting booth? — I’m all in for the underlying principle of “better late than never.”

If it’s a candidate. If it’s me. If it’s me, or you, committed to remaining an active participant in all that life has to offer, all that we can embrace, and all that we can give, whatever our age and whatever our circumstances.

I welcome your thoughts.

 

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