Many of us are approaching that final door leading to the end of life while navigating the inevitable passage of getting older. On the opposite side, there are fewer and fewer opportunities surrounding our diminishing future. Relax, I am not being overly morbid, just realistic. The reality is that, what lies ahead, at least for me, will be an awful lot of “lasts” with material things and, sadly, people in my life. In addition, that list of things I’ve always wanted to do, especially places to go, like the Amalfi Coast, well, one by one, they’ve all been eliminated. Reality, wearing its painful Sunday best, has taken control.
How can we honestly say that we know ourselves? There’s been so much about what makes me…me, that I have not explored. Of course, I’ve definitely spent time navigating a great deal of useless bullcrap in the struggle to deal with the challenges of being me and, here I am, nearing the end of life’s ride, still dealing with external judgement, maintaining some element of authenticity beside outside pressure to conform.
Aging gracefully is big business, for some, a never-ending quest to ward off time by enduring a nip here, tuck there, injections that might work for some but not all; isn’t it a bit ludicrous to have a face that doesn’t match an aging body? Then again, this is not terribly different from people who comment on my determination to keep working at this late date. My personal choice is to appreciate where I’m at, physically, as I navigate my personal disconnect from obsessively focusing on youth and accept the normal reality of aging.
In this very moment of my life, I’m pretty much done with those in this world who demand some element of conformity to a given process, especially that of a political nature. I’m ready, willing, and damn able to risk all rejection to live my life authentically. My struggle to set boundaries and needs to make others comfortable has resulted in stress and resentment and I’ve come to accept the fact that I might not know who I am, most of my behaviors are conditioned responses to the environment in which I was raised and currently live.
Honestly, I’ve let go of so many things due to not being sure if I’ll make it to their finish, but, at least my ambitious nature hasn’t given up on me. In some ways, I still enjoy feeling the pressure which can surround a project or some idea that rolls through my head. There’s that familiar spark of lightness that happens often, a big part of me being me where I can simply be and do without attaching any personal significance to something and, in a way, enjoy being in control. This is one of those fleeting moments that makes you smile, become a child again and the world, for a brief moment, is my playground, where I can love people without needing any of them and bring real meaning to what I do without being anxious about what might happen next. Sounds great, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, much like Boston weather, if I wait a few minutes, that euphoric dose disappears and reality sets back in.
The most tragic part of it all is that, as this trip around the sun grows shorter, so do some relationships that will never heal, arguments that rear their ugly heads with no possibility of compromise, and the worst, total lack of contact and respect from family who glare arbitrarily from angry corners of my immediate universe. How sad that the doors of my life will close forever, leaving unresolved differences behind. Sad as well that all things holding precious memories will end up in some stranger’s hands or permanently discarded due to familial indifference and estrangement.
My days will continue to move along with the focus on work and staying with my attempts at creative and interesting writing. I enjoy the challenge to share words that people will read and enjoy, and sometimes dislike when I delve into controversial topics. I need the structure and self-pressure, especially when my writing attempts hit the dreaded “wall” where I have absolutely nothing meaningful to share because my aging brain refused to cooperate.
It’s doubtful that I’ll be remembered by anyone for my writing, except for a few people in my immediate circle but what I have is a gift, a desire to write and I am a hard-headed, determined, woman who continues to focus on a well orchestrated narrative worth sharing. My life’s ending will include periodic episodes of rejection, criticism, missed opportunities, jealousies, and plenty of bitterness, but I’ve had to find my own way of being and staying present in life’s moments, of growing older, possibly throwing in the towel, digging in, and I’ve done so, harder than ever.
I feel that, when you learn this, things change. John Steinbeck once said, “Now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.” Given that, I will damn well continue to be myself, a work still in progress, very difficult and far from perfect. And that’s wonderful.
