Aging in shape.
I sometimes find myself in new circumstances—perhaps a new medical professional’s office—so that when I check in for an appointment the receptionist or the medical assistant invariably say, “Wow! You don’t look seventy years old!” Which begs the question:
What is 70 years old supposed to look like?
Aging is a strange bedfellow, isn’t it? We can’t get away from it, but would we want to? Doesn’t that bring about a lethal alternative?
Former model, Cindy Joseph said, “Aging is just another word for living.”
From all outward appearances, I look to be in good shape: I’m not overweight, I more or less stand upright (even though I’ve lost 2 inches of height over the past 10 years), I don’t leave the house in inappropriate clothing, and most of the time I remember to put on a pair of earrings in the lobes that were pierced 57 years ago as a teenager. Yep, for all intents and purposes, I present myself as being in pretty darn good shape for a seventy-year-old. But as we all know, outward appearances don’t tell the whole story, do they?
What no one can see is what is going on inside of my seventy-year-old brain. No one sees the worries and the fears that keep me awake at night or that keep me secluded in my home because I don’t feel comfortable driving long distances—especially on freeways—by myself. The receptionist at the medical office isn’t aware of my perfectionistic tendencies that create “What ifs” that need not be addressed but that I revisit over and over and over again in my effort to get things just right.
She or he has no sense of the terror that fills me when a neighborhood dog approaches me that, even though on-leash, I fear may take a chunk out of my leg like the “harmless” dog that did so in my same neighborhood twenty years before.
I am touching on these elements of my life that I am certain exist in many people regardless of their age, simply to point out that appearances can be deceiving. That just because someone presents themselves as in stellar shape doesn’t mean they are 100% healthy. Mental health is health, and without it, fullness of well-being does not exist. Thank goodness we are all becoming more aware of the mental health piece so that the stigma oftentimes attached to it is less pronounced than it was in times past.
I am not at all ashamed to speak of such matters because I know I am not alone. I take pride in the fact that I expend just as much energy to maintain my mental health as I do my bodily health, and apparently, it shows. The way I look at it—my physical body shouldn’t get all the attention, right?
My wish for you is that you nurture your mind just as much as you do your body. Aging isn’t for wimps, and I doubt very seriously that any of you would choose to fall into that wimpy category. Rock on everyone and celebrate the proof of life that your age has afforded you.
What is 70 years old supposed to look like?
Aging is a strange bedfellow, isn’t it? We can’t get away from it, but would we want to? Doesn’t that bring about a lethal alternative?
Former model, Cindy Joseph said, “Aging is just another word for living.”
From all outward appearances, I look to be in good shape: I’m not overweight, I more or less stand upright (even though I’ve lost 2 inches of height over the past 10 years), I don’t leave the house in inappropriate clothing, and most of the time I remember to put on a pair of earrings in the lobes that were pierced 57 years ago as a teenager. Yep, for all intents and purposes, I present myself as being in pretty darn good shape for a seventy-year-old. But as we all know, outward appearances don’t tell the whole story, do they?
What no one can see is what is going on inside of my seventy-year-old brain. No one sees the worries and the fears that keep me awake at night or that keep me secluded in my home because I don’t feel comfortable driving long distances—especially on freeways—by myself. The receptionist at the medical office isn’t aware of my perfectionistic tendencies that create “What ifs” that need not be addressed but that I revisit over and over and over again in my effort to get things just right.
She or he has no sense of the terror that fills me when a neighborhood dog approaches me that, even though on-leash, I fear may take a chunk out of my leg like the “harmless” dog that did so in my same neighborhood twenty years before.
I am touching on these elements of my life that I am certain exist in many people regardless of their age, simply to point out that appearances can be deceiving. That just because someone presents themselves as in stellar shape doesn’t mean they are 100% healthy. Mental health is health, and without it, fullness of well-being does not exist. Thank goodness we are all becoming more aware of the mental health piece so that the stigma oftentimes attached to it is less pronounced than it was in times past.
I am not at all ashamed to speak of such matters because I know I am not alone. I take pride in the fact that I expend just as much energy to maintain my mental health as I do my bodily health, and apparently, it shows. The way I look at it—my physical body shouldn’t get all the attention, right?
My wish for you is that you nurture your mind just as much as you do your body. Aging isn’t for wimps, and I doubt very seriously that any of you would choose to fall into that wimpy category. Rock on everyone and celebrate the proof of life that your age has afforded you.
Irene Frances Olson
Author of Requiem for the status quo, a novel that celebrates and encourages family caregivers of those with Alzheimer’s or other dementia. You can find that book HERE. In her second novel, A Jagged Journey, Ms. Olson encourages all who have ever hit speedhumps and roadblocks in their personal life, whose opinions and judgments about others may have taken abrupt and unexpected turns, to evolve and arrive at a place where hurt begets joy, where smarts don’t necessarily equate to intelligence, and vulnerability guarantees increased strength. Seems impossible, doesn’t it? Her new novel will make a believer out of you. Ms. Olson authors a blog, www.babyboomersandmore.com, a multi-aged community of diverse interests that is also known as Living: the ultimate team sport. Her weekly contributions have been enjoyed by readers for more than ten years. |