by Carol Cassara of Middle-Aged Diva
Don’t get me wrong: I don’t always do what others want me to do, or even expect me to do, but when I act, I usually do so with purpose and when I act out, well, that’s purposeful, too.
So now that I can’t deny the fact that I’m aging (along with everyone around me) I can’t help but pay attention to how this all works. Because aging is a door we all walk through; that is, if we’re lucky. And we don’t know in advance what’s on the other side.
It’s clear that aging gracefully has nothing to do with botox or facelifts. It’s not how we look. It’s how we act.
I remember when my father’s driving began to go bad. He was only in his 70s. It was partly aging but a big part of it was that he had Alzheimer’s. Dementia. He didn’t always remember where he was going and would take a dangerous last minute turn or be distracted at the wheel. It was terrifying and after a few awful experiences, I refused to ride with him.
My mother, in denial, would try to get him to take me to the airport when I visited and I, horrified, would have to come up with reasons not to go. Everyone, it seemed, was in denial that life had changed. That when he drove, he was a real danger to himself and others. Mom didn’t want to lose him as a driver and he simply didn’t want to accept the limitations of age.
This went on for years, I’m embarrassed to say, because none of us could face having the talk with him. We knew how resistant he was to the impact of aging and any imposition of limits. We knew it would be a battle royal and no one had the courage to fight it.
Luckily, he didn’t harm himself or anyone else, but really, it was just luck. He easily could have taken someone else’s life on the road, and all because he stubbornly refused to accept that his life would have to change and that would mean giving up the independence he’d enjoyed for all those decades.
After my mother died and his dementia diagnosis, we could no longer put off his move to a memory facility and at that point, he was off the road. But for many years he was a danger to himself and others.
Many of my friends have had to help their parents move into assisted living in recent years, something their parents usually resisted with all their might. I observed my friends struggle with, well, parenting their parents.
“Shoot me,” I’d say to them, “if I ever behave like that.”
Of course, it’s hard to say how I would be if I had serious limitations and I hope I don’t face anything like that for a long time. I get it, I do. No one wants to be dependent on others and lose the independent life we’ve enjoyed.
But I don’t want to be that person who goes down kicking and screaming. Who puts others’ lives at risk. I hope that I”ll accept gracefully the changed reality that age brings and be able to live a full life within that new normal. I hope I’ll see aging as the privilege it is.
I don’t think anyone’s prepared for it when it comes, and sometimes it comes without advance warning. One day your life changes and you’ve got to change with it.
But as a good student of life, I’m paying attention to how others are doing this. And I hope when the time comes that I can make conscious decisions to do the right thing.