Independence (part 2)

I'm really aware that, living alone, I've become somwhat secretive.  That's what makes this blog so scary.  I don't always answer truthfully when someone asks, "What have you been doing?"  Or, "Can we get together?"

I've always had a secret life.  As a child, I was taught that "mooning" and "wool-gathering" were inappropriate.  One was expected to find productive activity in the company of others.  So I took myself on long walks or hid myself in long grass in order to let my imagination create a different world, a world where I wasn't "odd."

As I grew up, I created a personna that met with the world's expectations - a real party girl!  But now, I think I'm ready to let "her" retire, too.  What does this have to do with independence?  It's a bit muddled.  But I think that independence will allow me to let this personna go.  AND, if I lose independence, will I have to re-assume it?

Mental Accuity

The real "boogieman" of aging, for me, is the potential that my body will outlive my mind.  As I remember my youth, I had an incredible memory.  Even in my 50's, I was able to recreate the minutes of a day-long meeting from memory when the notes were accidentally destroyed. 

Now, it's pretty usual to have the episodes of "what did I come into this room for?"  And "going to the noun cupboard and finding it empty."  I find the latter most disturbing as I'm a hard-core authors' name-dropper.  I could always back up any argument by citing an expert on the topic.  Now, I'll be about to sum up the thesis of a book I've recently read and I find it's like a fading dream - the harder I reach for it, the more rapidly it disappears.

It doesn't help that I'm continually being told that this is normal.  My friends seem to be able to laugh it off.  I only pretend.

It has a slight upside.  Or maybe it's a bigger upside than I think.  I have to stay silent in conversation until I'm really sure about what I want to say.  And I have to listen a lot harder. 

Independence

I have been a very independent person all my life.  I left home when I was 17 and have supported myself ever since.  One of my big fears about aging is that I won't have enough physical strength to take care of myself and my dwelling.

This past week, the city I live in had a record-breaking dump of snow.  It feels like I've been shovelling non-stop for the past 3 days.  I finally had to yell "uncle" when I realized that there is nowhere left on this property to pile snow.  I will just have to wait for some to melt.  There were some gifts in this.  The first and biggest is that I am able to shovel for 3  days straight without a heart attack or putting my back out of commission.  (I won't claim that I don't have sore muscles, but only in that good "well-used" way.)  I am very well!

The second was a really dear neighbour who, without fanfare, used his snowblower to clear the end of my driveway after the snowplough went by. 

And the third is that I realize I will not likely be able to do this for 25 more years.  And that's okay; I can give employment to local teens!  Seriously, I think I'm going to have to learn to live with some dependence on others.  My task will be to learn how to ask; that won't be easy.

Old Complexes

One huge gift of aging is that old complexes begin to lose their grip - I hope!  One of my ancient complexes is the need to be right.  I won't claim that this old internal crocodile has given up.  It's still very much alive.  But it doesn't create quite the same terror it used to.

One aspect of this complex was the need to always be up-to-date about world events.  For example, I felt truly ashamed if a conversation started about a country or a war that I wasn't aware of, especially if the country name was unfamiliar to me or I didn't understand the political implications of the conflict.  I needed to have a clear postion on every territorial dispute  and  the right answer on how it should be solved.  It was exhausting!

Now, while I still try to be aware of world events, I realize that I don't need to have an answer to every world problem.  In fact, I'm often at a loss about what can be done.  Not only does this remove a huge amount of pressure, I'm finding that I'm more open to questioning myself when I spring to a position.  I think this might even be wiser! 

Identity

I've had two strong identities for most of my adult life.  One was "mother;"  the other was "consultant."  Both of these identities took on different meanings at different times but I always knew who I was, as I anchored myself in my child's life and my work.  I don't have a single regret about the amount of time and energy I put into them.  They were, in a sense, my callings.  And I loved "being them." 

But now I need a new identity - one that relates to my inner world, not my relationship with my external world.  I'm not at all sure how this process will unfold but I have a pretty strong faith that it will.

Many of my friends moved into "grandparent" with vigour.  While I look forward to that time, that continues to define one according to external relationships so it's not what I'm looking for.

Is "identity" the same as "personna?"   Does it only have to do with how we present ourselves to the world?     

Relationships

I find that as I age, my relationships change.  Is this just a function of time passing or do I require different things from my relationships now that I'm older?  I'll leave aside my relationship with my family for another time and talk, instead, about friendships. 

When I was younger, I thought that friendships were forever.  When a friendship proved not to be lasting, I assumed that it had not been a "true" friendship.  I worked hard at maintaining them.  I actually had a follow up system to be sure I kept in touch with everyone regularly.  I loved throwing parties for hordes of people.  To some extent, I judged my worth in terms of how many people were in my network.

Now I realize that friends come into and out of my life as they need me and I need them.  I continue to see some people with whom I have little in common because we share a history and they still see me as the person they knew "when."  These friends help me to tangibly retain my past.  But the people I'm most likely to enjoy spending time with (aside from family) are those who are exploring this new terrain.  Those people change from time to time.  Old friends reappear to share new insights and experiences.  New acquaintances turn into friends as we share perceptions.  And it's okay when they disappear again for a time.  I don't become less worthy when they are gone.

The gift in this evolving point of view is time alone.  When I don't have to attend to the constant round of keeping relationships up-to-date, I'm actually forming a new friendship with myself. 

Physical Limitations

The hardest thing in which to find "the gift" will be in the increasing physical limitations that come with age.  Remember that 80-year-old Swede we were all told about 40 years ago (or was he merely 60?)  Then, he was something to aspire to as I aged.  Now, he taunts me.

I, like many people my age, have osteoarthritis.  Mine is in my spine, my knees and my hips.  I try not to let it "slow me down."  I walk!  I walk in long races; I walk with a walking group; I hike.  And, occasionally, like this month (suffering from a baker's cyst), I have to stop to heal because to continue to walk would be foolish and self-destructive.

The gift in this? I have some possible ideas but none of them seem exactly right.  Perhaps it's the gift of being aware of, and grateful to, my body and to start to recognize that my body is not separate and subordinate to me.  It is me.  The abuse of youthful excesses and mid-life career demands to go without sleep weren't done to another entity, they were done to myself.  And now I have the opportunity to care for my very own self.