Midlife

I don't like getting older.  I even obsessed about it as a child.   When I was around 7, I remember asking my dad if you get to choose your age when you go to heaven, and he said yes.  Every year I would choose my current age, because I was sure that the next year would be worse. 

I had a plan for what I would do when I got old:  I would use Oil of Olay to prevent wrinkles, Clairol to dye my hair, and Coast soap to bring me back to life--because that was their slogan, which I took literally.  That shows you the power of advertising.

I didn't consider myself middle-aged until I turned 43.  I'm immature for my age in a lot of ways because I still live the life of a college student--a night owl with no children and no spouse whose work revolves around the academic calendar.  

Although my mind is still somewhere in my 20's, my body has proceeded at a normal developmental pace.  Once I hit 43, I became far-sighted.  My knees hurt all the time--not just after playing tennis 5-6 times in a row.  I started dying my hair. 

I don't want other people to get older, either.  Every year I tell my niece that she has to stay the same age. Whenever I leave my parents' house, I feel anxious at the thought of seeing them sick or debilitated someday.  I am terrified of losing them.  I got a glimpse of what it would be like when my dad was depressed, and I did not handle it well. 

I try to practice gratitude, self-compassion, and mindfulness to accept the aging process.  I try to remember what I have to be thankful for in this moment, try to enjoy my blessings while I have them.  I tell myself that lots of people have these fears--it doesn't make me crazy.  It doesn't mean I'm a bad person. 

It helps some.  But I'm still afraid.

There are only two things that I look forward to about getting older.  One is that I will continue to become a better therapist because I will have seen more clients, had more life experience, and will possess more wisdom. 

The other thing is that my writing will improve for the same reasons.  I have wanted to write a book since high school.  In the 10th grade we had a writing assignment where we had to project what we would be doing in the future.  I wrote a mock interview where I was 45, answering questions about my book. 

So it's no coincidence that I made my first effort to publish my writing through blogging at the age of 44.  I realized that if I wanted to make something happen for myself, I had to start now. 

So I guess that's one good thing about being middle-aged:  as you reflect on the first half of your life, you realize what you have to do to make the most out of the second half.