Aging is a Process, NOT an Event

When I was younger, I was taller because I was thinner—a lot thinner. I had the fair skin, hazel eyes, long blonde hair thing going, and I walked tall and proud. Thus, I could pretty much walk into any situation and effect a command presence if that was my goal.

A dozen years later, I’m still tall, but heavier, still sporting hazel eyes and somewhat blonde hair, but the lines on my face, as well as the turkey neck, make it obvious that I’m now into the “old lady” category so often ascribed to older people. If I were in the entertainment industry, I would lift the face and cut off the turkey waddle, but I’m just a plain, simple retired teacher and see no need to be someone I’m not.

No one takes me seriously anymore: I am overlooked for the young person in the crowd. It is so much easier to brush aside an older woman than it is a hot chick—especially if you are male and in charge of decision-making. The eyes go to the package, not the product, and my package is approaching its expiration date. The product is probably better because it’s seen more, done more, knows more, but why look beyond the surface? Toss out the old, replace it with the new, and move on.

I remember when I saw my mother as old, a shock, to say the least. I recognized the all-grey hair, the stooped-shouldered walk, the lack of pep in her step, and the lines on her face that testified to a long life behind her and shorter days ahead. I know that my focus changed from “my mom” to “little old lady,” and it became obvious that I felt I had to take care of her, watch out for her, offer her advice on living her life, rather than listening to her talk about her own life. But she was 75 before that happened: I have a lot of potential years before I’m 75! I’m working hard not to sport the grey hair, walk the stoop-shouldered walk, drag my feet. The lines on my face? Oh, well.

I regret that change in my perception then because now it’s happening to me. I chafe from the abrasiveness of those who want to tell me how to live my life their way, rather than accepting that I’m an independent person who does fairly well on her own terms.

It’s subtle, not meant to be offensive, but it’s there.

I make a decision that used to be my right—and now it’s questioned by well-meaning family and friends. “Are you sure?” they ask me. Taking away anyone’s power to make the decisions that affect their life appears to be the first step in taking away one’s life.

I make a statement about what I know, what I believe, what I think, what I feel—and it’s challenged. I have changed and so have my viewpoints, so it’s quite possible that what I used to believe, think, feel or know has changed to reflect my maturity. Changing one’s mind does not mean that one is losing it—just coming up with different ideas.

I decide to go somewhere/do something and everyone wants to know why. My answer used to be “because” before I went on my way, but that’s no longer acceptable. I have to justify my lifestyle with some sort of detailed action plan that includes the rationale, the method, and the financial underpinnings before I’m grudgingly allowed to put it into play.

Why?

Am I showing signs of senile dementia or just changing my life during the twilight years? Is it really okay for everyone around me to change while I remain static? I’m a dynamic person, not a bump on a log, and I want to continue to grow as an individual, not wither away and die quietly.

I’m not at the point when anyone needs to take care of me, and when I do need assistance, I ask for it. Until I need it and don’t ask for it, let me continue to make my own way through what remains of my life.