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Category Archives: Age

Watching another set of elderly parents change, consider, reconsider, and wait to be told the “right” answer is so painful.  It brings up fear and and anxiety for those who cannot recall the numerous complicated steps to the the waltz of Life. It shows a glimpse of those things that will have to be attended to, coordinated and arranged for the unwilling participants. 

For me, as I try to be strong and dependable in the light of another crisis of time, faith and family,   there are moments of tears and flooding memories.  It feels like a post traumatic stress response to the the sounds of decay, despair and discordant notes in the trailing notes of the last song.

It has to be OK because there is no other way out.  But the path is no longer clear to walk.  It is always in shadow, with dried twigs and brambles to step around cautiously.  There is movement in darkened corners and fear from not having been on this route before.  There will be many adjustments and accommodations to make the necessary baggage lighter and lighter, until only the soul lifts off to the light, leaving the body with the empty husks and teetering emptiness of acorn shells on the abandoned pathway.

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Another year approaches and lists of the best and the worst are available at every turn. Each format is to be a unique reminder: Top 40 songs, 100 Most Popular movies, Top 2013 headlines in review.

While we say that we are looking forward, and all agree we need a fresh new start, I think that we are really in a tug of war with ourselves and those things that are known to us. Young and new are merely points on a long continuum as are the Old. It is simply a perspective and matter of which direction you are facing when figuring out your place and where to stand. It requires a careful look to determine your stance; is there the need to push forth or go a bit more slowly and savor the path?

If you look behind you, and see others there, you feel comforted in moving forward. If you are at the head of the line, that confidence may wobble or you will pick up the baton and lead the parade.

At 17, you feel that you are old and don’t need anyone’s permission to use your freedom accordingly. At 30, you think that seriousness must prevail and review of career and parenthood loom. 40 and 50 prove to be strong selling points for moisturizer, eye cream and Weight Watchers. 60 and 70 used to mean retirement in a world that cannot afford to do so and people living many years longer.

Letting go sounds grand in concept, but my memories are critical reminders of what is being left behind. They are coming with me. Yes, the baggage is heavy to carry, but comes with me wherever I go. Make new memories, but keep the old. One is Silver and the other Gold.

Happy 2014 to all those that read this post ~ and those that do not ~ and may it offer you the shiny promise you seek and the chance to do all the things that you like for another year.

This beautiful writer uses words generously and gorgeously.

90 is the new 30, the frustrating numbers we believe.

Working on August’s Monthly Challenge, I am completing my Series “All the World is a Stage ~ and I am Aging Upon It”
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/08/01/going-serial-2/
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damn straight I keep score

I am not bitter or hysterical that it took me three hours to figure out how to transfer the photo stream from my phone to my computer. Oh no, this is such a thrill to see how many hoops my brain can jump through. Why yes, I did figure it out, and then the next day, realized how to do it in 5 minutes. But imagine all the incredibly new and springy brain cells I am creating? Hopefully, the cortisol I pumped during the three l o n g hours that I tried to figure it out on my own, did not destroy more memory and trigger other unhealthy brain chemicals. Just handing the phone over to my 17 year old is too easy as well as too demeaning. I am a grown up. I have fifty years of life experience, I should be able to figure out how to move my freaking photos!

For the last three days, I have been unable to pair my headset to my cell phone. I kept trying to press buttons and pair the device and search for the Bluetooth connection, etc. My 17 year old looked at and turned it off and restarted it. Now it works! Sometimes, we have had to adapt to so much technology and other life changes, that we lose sight of the simple and expect the complex. Isn’t that so true in many areas?

Maybe fifty is the age of the deep learning curve?

As I have gotten older, my skin has changed. It is more thin, more spotted, more sensitive, and hyper reactive. No thanks Mr. Grey, I am already fifty shades of black and blue. Besides, I do not need any more inflicted pain.

We are strong and forthright. When one of our own is down, we rally around her to help carry the load. My knees may buckle, pop, and click — But I have got your back when it is needed. We are a force to be reckoned with.

We are not willing to be false to ourselves or anyone else. We carry ourselves with dignity.

It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. At fifty, I don’t mourn the boyfriends and relationships along the way (although we all Google them for Heaven’s Sake). I mourn the ones that I have truly loved and lost, like my mother and grandparents. I have even lost a couple of college friends. It is heartbreaking to think how young their middle age really was.

I cry because it is my family legacy. I cry because hormones are rampant in women my age (see, isn’t that a great rationalization?!) I cry because I am highly sensitive.

Maybe fifty is the age of tolerance and expression?

In your 20’s, the indefatigable and adventurous will live forever and claim “You Only Live Once” as an excuse for doing crazy dangerous things. At 50, the oft repeated refrain is that “Life is Short.” It is not as catchy as YOLO but it is no less true. We have lived long enough to realize the fragility, beauty and mortality around us.

That’s my story and I am sticking to it.

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