Aftershocks From Visiting an Active Retirement Community

Visiting a 55 and older community. How did I get here?

My neighbor and I visited a retirement community yesterday. It was lovely. Lots of amenities, beautifully manicured grounds (that someone else takes care of through the Homeowner’s Association dues). People being active on the paths, in the pools, in the fitness center.

And I looked around. These people are all older. What a surprise at a senior living center, right? But it was still a shock that I am now thinking of a place like this as my next, and hopefully last, move. I am now one of these older people. WTF?

How did I get here so quickly? I feel like I am just now figuring out who I am after 70 years on this earth. Just now doing what I love, just now learning to set clearer boundaries and not care about what others think nearly as much, if at all. Just now coming home to the self that I somehow pushed away all those years while I got busy doing what we are supposed to do in life. Go to school. Figure out career goals. Get married (and, in my case, divorced). Decide whether to have children (or not to have, in my case). Be productive and successful, using others’ definitions of that. 

I now live blissfully alone. I have been married, been in other relationships, and although I appreciate them all, am at a place that I need to focus primarily on my relationship with myself. For me, I seem to do this best when not in a primary relationship. I tend to focus on the other when in a relationship and lose my center. At least I have up until now.

Should another possible relationship present itself, I think I would be open to it, but from a much more centered place. I will not lose who I am. I have worked too hard to get here, finally. I will come into it as a whole being. And if there are no more primary relationships in my future, which is a distinct possibility at my age, that’s ok too. I have had lovely relationships in my life, and I am glad for the experience and the love. 

I still have things to figure out in my life and about myself. I don’t always schedule things that I know would feel good. Sometimes I lose chunks of time, not sure exactly what I want to do. Or I don’t seem to have the motivation to do those things. Like writing or painting. Or even going outside for a walk. I am not sure why I struggle to do those things that are good for me. Clearly, I have more to explore and learn. 

I’m working on it. 

I still want to work on getting as healthy as I can, even though I know that our bodies decline as we age. I want to lose weight and be as active as I can be. A lifelong goal that I have struggled with for so many years. Get my blood pressure to come down and maybe even get off meds for that. Give my body the best chance to be what it can still be. 

I want to paint and write more. I want to take a dance class just for fun. It’s been decades since I danced. Dancing used to bring me such joy.

I want to be outdoors more, take more walks in nature while I am blessed enough to have a body that still can walk and enjoy this. I want to embrace each moment fully. Nature and the redwoods are my sacred space, my cathedral. I am calmed there, held there, nurtured there. 

 I want to keep in mind that even though I don’t always do these things that are nourishing for me, time still marches on. 

Looking at this retirement residence made the reality of aging a much more visceral experience for me in yet another way. This is my new peer group. These will be my companions and friends for the rest of my path. I am not saying that I won’t have contact with others who are now in my life, but realistically, I know myself. I will tend to gravitate to those that are around me, that have things in common with me, that are at the same relative place in their journey that I am.

The realtor was a lovely gentleman who was honest about the pros and cons, the realities of living there. Like hearing ambulances more than we are used to. Such a stark reality of aging, yes? Of living with other seniors who are also aging. Watching different things happen, illnesses, declines. Hanging on to the joy that we still have and appreciating it even more. It’s sobering. 

So, I find myself in a quiet place about this today. The reality of my time of life is hitting home in yet another way. I believe that moving to this kind of place can be a good thing for me. I don’t have a family, and I find that I am someone who seems to let go of people, with no rancor or ill will, but lets go when our paths seem to diverge. It’s ok, but I realize that I do need some community around me as I get older. I will need help at some point, very likely, if I reach that point. Better to have some of that more easily set up. Better to be in a place where someone will miss you if they don’t see you for a day or two. 

I feel sad. I know that this is life, but so is my sadness about it. It’s ok. It’s part of letting go, part of then fully stepping into the next phase of life. Part of continuing to walk forward until there are no more steps to take. 

I want to live somewhere that others can understand and relate to what I am going through. Where we can talk about and share our feelings and thoughts about this. Somewhere that I feel safer, where there are others watching out for us. Where there is not so much crime and where I am not afraid to go for a walk in the evenings. I currently live in a city where crime has risen, even in the area where I live, which did not have this as an issue before. I am tired of having to feel so vigilant and vulnerable. 

I want to be able to get to activities that are close by, and have choices. And to enjoy being part of life still. Even though I am now part of the older segment that is on its way out. 

I walk around my lovely home and can feel the beginning of my long process of saying goodbye to it. I have lived here for 22 years. It’s beautiful to me. And it’s beginning to feel like too much to take care of at times. I get tired. There are always home projects to do, things to fix, and people to hire. I have enjoyed taking care of this home and myself in it. And I am getting tired. Is this how I want to spend so much time and money? These questions are realistic and necessary to think about. 

I want to be as happy as I can be. As relaxed as I can be. To let go of what I can so that I can embrace more fully those things that I want and enjoy. While I still can. 

Bette Davis certainly knew what she was talking about when she said that “Old age ain’t no place for sissies!” It takes courage to face the harsh realities of it all. And to face, close up and personal, the ultimate reality of mortality. 

These are some of my Sunday afternoon thoughts and feelings. Poignant, bittersweet reflections. Choices to be made. Time limits felt. The past is fading more and more. Goals, wishes, and dreams are not the focus these days. Living as fully and passionately and authentically as I can. That’s my focus. And how to best do that. How to best set that up and navigate the self-care that is needed to do that. 

I have entered the zone of senior living. The last stop on the highway. I am hopeful that it can still have much beauty and life and joy in it. Perhaps even more so, given that it may be the end stop. 

Yet, although stunned into quiet contemplation and deep feelings, I notice that the flame and spirit of life seem to glow even brighter within me as I take a realistic look at this all. It’s still there, inside me. I’m still here. 

So, I will continue to live as fully as I can. Let my flame burn as brightly as it will. Until.