Recently, a friend and I were discussing our upcoming evening activities. She was excited to be getting back to the beauty salon to get her hair done after having missed her regularly scheduled appointment. She also had plans to swing by the pharmacy and pick up a prescription that had finally come in. She was pretty happy about that, I might add.
I, equally pleased, shared that I was looking forward to going home and mowing the yard. As the words came out of my mouth, we both stopped, stared at each other, and began laughing. “Are we … old?”
As noted in previous essays, it sure seems to require a lot more effort and supplements to hold me together than it used to. Now if I miss my massage therapy appointment, I am almost crippled. I know that I am a pampered princess and I do realize how blessed (and spoiled) I am. I take none of that for granted. Just know that I’m not trying to be high-maintenance, I just want to be able to use all my limbs and function well on any given day.
I think it’s great that we’re better hydrated and better at taking care of ourselves than ever in history, but it’s still jarring to realize that now our health is a huge topic of conversation. The conversations span the scope of medical procedures we are facing, the procedures our parents are facing, the procedures we are recovering from, or the ones we are considering. My calendar brims with various appointments all dedicated to holding it all together.
I fell off my bike as a child, landed hard on both wrists and broke my fall with my face, jumped up, cried for a few minutes and then had a popsicle and carried on with my day. Now, sleeping “wrong” on my pillow leaves me hobbled for days.
I had noticed discussion of our various ailments and treatments had started creeping into our everyday conversations. Texts among my peers often consist of us discussing our most recent injuries and the wildly normal things that caused them. True story: I’m pretty sure I hurt my back simply climbing into our pickup truck. It’s not particularly “lifted” — I’m just feeble.
I grew up in the era of “walk it off,” “shake it off,” “rub some dirt on it,” and/or “I’ll give you something to cry about.” I don’t even think I heard the term self-care until I was well into my 30s. That’s more of a 21st-century construct.
In the 1900s where I come from, you just kept moving forward. My mom was a single mom who worked super hard home and away and I’m not sure that I ever considered that she could’ve used a spa day. I mean, isn’t that what she was doing when she was weeding the flowerbeds and catching up on laundry on the weekends? I mean, as a kid I guess I thought she liked that.
I used to stay up all night and go to work with maybe 45 minutes of sleep and fresh lipgloss. Now, if I don’t get a solid eight hours, I’m planning to just give up on that day and try again tomorrow.
If people ask me to meet them “at 8 o’clock” I’m definitely blurting out “at NIGHT?” Breakfast date? Sure. Going out after 7 p.m.? Absolutely not. What am I, a vampire?
I became a morning person in my 30s. I used to get up really early to stay ahead of the children. Now, I do it just because I enjoy it. Around 5 or 5:30 each morning, I find myself sipping coffee in the quiet dark. The dogs and I enjoy this.
On summer weekends, I might wander outside to inspect my patio and garden (as pitiful as it is). I have begun recognizing individual squirrels. I worry about the birds getting enough to eat. Basically, I have become my own grandmother. I used to think the hours she kept were ridiculous, now I get it. Nothing good DOES happen after midnight and early to bed and early to rise makes a whole lot of sense.
So, the question my dear friend and I had to ask ourselves is “are we old?” The answer, apparently, is “Yes. Yes we are.” Speaking for myself, I am perfectly FINE with that. Thrilled even. Just me and my early bedtime, dinners before 6 p.m., and wandering my yard looking for squirrels.
My high school class reunion is this weekend. I graduated in 1986. That is… checks notes…40 years ago? That cannot be right. The 1980s was 20 years ago, wasn’t it? I mean I’ve never been great at math but that feels right to ME.
