Aging
A long time between journal posts, I know. Please refer to the first entry, Confessions of a Procrastinator, and all will be explained.
I have been thinking a lot about getting old over past months. I don’t mind getting old (I’m 68). To quote some witty person, forgotten who, it’s better than the alternative. Or is it? We don’t really know that, do we? Anyway, getting old is challenging. I’m not sure if it’s more challenging than any other age. I mean, I would never wish to be a teenager again! Oh, the horrors! And I am glad I have left behind the long season of drifting in and out of romances, seeking ‘the one’. But I digress. Older age has its own issues. One of the main ones is that though I’m just the same, my body is deteriorating. That sounds a bit crazy so let me explain.
When I was younger, more than once I’d hear older women say that seeing a reflection of themselves in the mirror was shocking as inside they felt the same. And I, in the savage wisdom of youth, would think ‘yeah, right’. But now I know it’s true. The wrinkled, flabby face and body I see in the mirror are at odds with the person I feel I am. It’s as if inside this weakening, time-worn frame dwells the real Judith - a crease-free, trim, and taut.
But the aches and the pains are there nonetheless. I am very fortunate to remain pretty fit and healthy. I go to the gym, walk up mountains, ride my bike, etc. But there is no doubt the physical part of me is wearing out. I am beginning to find that there are things I cannot do anymore, or which take much more effort than before. This I find disheartening and also surprising. Surprising because the real Judith is as supple and strong as ever, and because, to tell you the truth, I am amazed at my advanced age!
But for all that, the biggest challenge for me is the way people treat me as an older woman. I forget the way I look to others, ie an old woman, and it is clear that assumptions kick in about my decrepitude. I’m taken aback when people offer to assist me in carrying my shopping, direct me to the lift to avoid a flight of stairs, and so on. The well-brought-up lady in me declines politely, overruling the she-dragon who wants to tell them to f*** off!
The worst experience I have had of this is, when being admitted to hospital for a routine procedure a couple of years ago, I was asked if I had ‘had any falls’. The use of language obviously changes in respect of older people. Younger people fall over, older people ‘have falls’. Then I was given memory tests, such as ‘say the months of the year backwards’ (actually I did wonder for a moment if I could!). This was at a time when I was still working full-time in a senior management position, managing dozens of staff and millions of dollars. When I queried the purpose of the questionnaire, I was told it was ‘standard’. No discretion permitted. While I know that people my age may have memory issues or health problems, I rebel against generalisations.
Have you heard of mansplaining? I rather think many women have had experience of this. It’s when a man condescendingly explains to a woman, her own profession, relationship, or a social issue that she is passionate about, or over-explains a task he assumes she is unable to understand, because she is a woman.
Well, I think I’ve coined a new word - ‘youthsplaining’. This is when a person, of any gender, condescendingly explains to an older person something they assume that the older person cannot understand because of their age. This behaviour is most commonly seen in relation to new technology. Well-intentioned younger people explaining to me how to use my mobile phone to forward messages, send photos, hotspot, etc, infuriates me. Receptionists taking down my details, wondering politely if I perhaps have an email address, and worse, querying if I have given them the correct one. Do I know how to use Zoom? Have I heard of WhatsApp? Did I know I can get emails on my phone? Do they think I have been hiding in a cave these past 50 years?
When youthsplaining and mansplaining converge, there we have the perfect storm, with older women tossed about on an ocean of prejudice and stereotyping, before drifting into a calm lagoon of forebearance, with tolerance coming from exhaustion, not acceptance. I think that’s called wisdom.
