TO GO ON

Why is it that I suddenly feel so, well, old? Is it because my knees are stiff and sore, is it because I get tired more easily, is it because others treat me with a certain solicitousness not offered before, or is it because I am truly entering a new stage of life that I have not yet fully embraced? In the past I have had no difficulty accepting shortcomings regarding my age, so it is somewhat surprising to find myself experiencing a vague discomfort in acknowledging my current limitations and in allowing the caring attention of others.

There is a balance to be found here—as in so many areas of life. I am eighty years old, so cannot expect to maintain the same level of flexibility and vigor that I enjoyed earlier. And yet I do not wish to surrender too soon to feelings of incapacity. Is it rude to reject offers of unneeded help? Or is it more polite to accept such offers, even knowing that I am perfectly capable of doing the task myself? Perhaps there is a middle way, a gracious way of acknowledging the kindness without accepting the implied inability. I also know it is important to learn to accept offers, or to seek help, when I have a genuine need. It is not wise to be too stubborn or too proud.

In an earlier blog, I wrote about the gifts of age, among which were the qualities of patience, acceptance, and detachment. As I try to come to terms with the diminishment of my physical strength and energy and yet honor my concurrent desire for self-sufficiency, it is apparent that these three traits are fundamental to finding the balance I seek. As I live into this ultimate stage of life, patience will be required—from and for myself as well as from those who genuinely care for me. I am, after all, learning a new way of living, which takes time. In addition, realistic acceptance of my present physical status is essential if I am to avoid being in complete denial regarding the conditions of advanced age. Detachment also provides a valuable perspective. When I can stand back and look with some measure of objectivity I can see more clearly my circumstances, and, I must admit, they are not bad!

Which brings me to a final important point, and that is a reminder to myself to be grateful for all I have, especially for my basically good health. My complaints are minor and manageable; while my blessings are major and contribute mightily to my well-being—in spite of feeling, well, old.

P.S. I just came across a poem by Liz Waldner in The New Yorker the final lines of which seem strangely appropriate, perhaps qualifying as a synchronicity:

I am old enough to understand
being willing

to go on is a great gift.