Feeling Sorry for Myself
Ok, I admit right up front that this a whiney post. I’m usually a positive,
optimistic person, so I might figure out a way to feel better by the end of
this.
My occasional depression seems to be visiting me this June; uninvited, of course. This visitor is partly dressed in MS and partly in aging. I usually try to focus on things I CAN do rather than things I can’t, but then I grab my cane as I get up from a fatigue-fighting midday nap and limp across the room to get some water. I remember when I was a fast walker, all of three or four years ago. I remember I had a personal trainer who helped me build strength, stamina, a flat stomach and plenty of confidence, four characteristics I lack at the moment.
I try to remind myself, in my usual “half full not half empty” way, that MS slows me down but doesn’t stop me; then I sit down again, too tired to do anything.
As all of this negativity and whining washes over me, I start thinking about retirement. I should be ecstatic that I am old enough to do that. I listen to my retired bar friends as they talk about their travels and their leisurely lifestyles. Or I observe younger friends and coworkers as they climb their career ladders.
And I point out to myself that I’m in between those points in my life.
If I painted a picture of these thoughts, I’d have to call it “Mortality”. The feeling I’ve had for most of my six decades that life goes on is blurred by the reality that life will end. Even though I truly believe I have thirty years to go, I have to admit that I’m much closer to the end than to the beginning, and that acknowledgement is depressing.
Whine whine whine. And wine won’t help.
So what can I not do? Run, walk fast, walk more than the length of a room without a cane, climb long sets of steps (like in a sports or concert venue) without being sore and out of breath. Can’t ride a bike. Whine whine whine.
What can I do? I CAN still walk. I can still climb stairs. I can drive a car. I can do other things I won’t mention here.
Mentally, I have slowed down a bit but I still successfully work at a job usually done by someone two or three decades younger than me. I can mostly keep up with technology. I can write this blog. I can have intelligent conversations. I can play a few chords on a guitar. I’m a pretty good photographer.
I guess one point of this post is that we all have emotional ups and downs. And us boomers are aging, but that is usually better than the alternative.
Maybe dragging myself (and you if you’re still reading this) through the muddy bottom of this cycle can help me (and you?) crawl back out into the cleaner, crisper air at the top of the cycle.
I want to be a role model for creative and positive aging. To do that, I have to accept some limitations but I think I also have to not let myself be defined by those limitations. You too?
We are sort of like older cars. We have a lot of miles on us and we’re in the shop a lot; but we’re still running.
My occasional depression seems to be visiting me this June; uninvited, of course. This visitor is partly dressed in MS and partly in aging. I usually try to focus on things I CAN do rather than things I can’t, but then I grab my cane as I get up from a fatigue-fighting midday nap and limp across the room to get some water. I remember when I was a fast walker, all of three or four years ago. I remember I had a personal trainer who helped me build strength, stamina, a flat stomach and plenty of confidence, four characteristics I lack at the moment.
I try to remind myself, in my usual “half full not half empty” way, that MS slows me down but doesn’t stop me; then I sit down again, too tired to do anything.
As all of this negativity and whining washes over me, I start thinking about retirement. I should be ecstatic that I am old enough to do that. I listen to my retired bar friends as they talk about their travels and their leisurely lifestyles. Or I observe younger friends and coworkers as they climb their career ladders.
And I point out to myself that I’m in between those points in my life.
If I painted a picture of these thoughts, I’d have to call it “Mortality”. The feeling I’ve had for most of my six decades that life goes on is blurred by the reality that life will end. Even though I truly believe I have thirty years to go, I have to admit that I’m much closer to the end than to the beginning, and that acknowledgement is depressing.
Whine whine whine. And wine won’t help.
So what can I not do? Run, walk fast, walk more than the length of a room without a cane, climb long sets of steps (like in a sports or concert venue) without being sore and out of breath. Can’t ride a bike. Whine whine whine.
What can I do? I CAN still walk. I can still climb stairs. I can drive a car. I can do other things I won’t mention here.
Mentally, I have slowed down a bit but I still successfully work at a job usually done by someone two or three decades younger than me. I can mostly keep up with technology. I can write this blog. I can have intelligent conversations. I can play a few chords on a guitar. I’m a pretty good photographer.
I guess one point of this post is that we all have emotional ups and downs. And us boomers are aging, but that is usually better than the alternative.
Maybe dragging myself (and you if you’re still reading this) through the muddy bottom of this cycle can help me (and you?) crawl back out into the cleaner, crisper air at the top of the cycle.
I want to be a role model for creative and positive aging. To do that, I have to accept some limitations but I think I also have to not let myself be defined by those limitations. You too?
We are sort of like older cars. We have a lot of miles on us and we’re in the shop a lot; but we’re still running.
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