The Bittersweet Gifts of Aging

Time to figure out what I can no longer do and focus on what I can.

I went on another field trip recently with my local zoo, where I have volunteered for over 11 years. We were going to help put together cages for a rabbit project where the staff are trapping a species of rabbit that has been dying from a certain virus. The trapped rabbits are then vaccinated and released back into the wild. 

This was my second time joining this project field trip. This time, I was the oldest among all that had volunteered. And I felt it.

I needed to sit in a chair to do the work, as sitting on the floor comfortably and trying to do the work was no longer an option. 

My hands don’t quite handle small tasks as well, nor do they have the strength that they once did. I had a harder time negotiating what we had to do with the cages that we were putting together and noticed that I was slower than most in doing what needed to be done.

My eyes, even with glasses, don’t see quite as well as they did. Yes, it may be time to go get them checked again, but they are not the same as they once were.

I felt sad and a bit embarrassed about it all. I was embarrassed in front of these younger people and my not being able to keep up with them. I did what I could and soon stationed myself at one of the tasks that I could better handle, although it was still a challenge to complete. 

I came home tired and soon put myself to bed. 

Awakening to reality and conscious choices to be made.

The next day I woke up thinking that I would not be volunteering for that kind of field trip again. It’s not something that I can do comfortably anymore. My spirit is willing, but my body has other ideas about it all.

It’s time to re-evaluate what I can do and what might be best left to others. I am not giving up on activities altogether, but I am realizing that I need to discriminate more about what I sign up for. I need to consult my body first. 

I need to let go of things like climbing the ladder to get to the roof to clean the skylights or climbing the steep hill on the back of my property. Going up the hill is ok, but coming down is a whole other level of challenge.

I’ve been noticing walking sticks that some other elders use when walking in my beloved redwood park. I am told that they really can be game changers.

Aging is humbling. I begin to realize that if I do not face and accept the changes that are occurring, rather than trying to deny reality, I may get stuck trying to do things that may not be the best, either for me or others. I may lose the opportunities to participate in things where I can more fully contribute and be of service. 

The dance may be slower, but there is dance in me yet. I just need to adjust my steps. 

Self-care is becoming more and more important.

It is true that I need to get back to more stretching and more exercise, which has been more difficult lately due to some issues that I have had with my foot. But I can still do more than I have been doing, and at this age, I realize how important it is to keep moving what we can, when we can. I want to participate as fully as I can in life. So, these days I must take my aging body into account more than I have been willing to admit.

I can keep going to the gym, do what I can with various injuries and try to heal what I can. And I need to work on some new exercises that we elders need to focus on, like floor recovery, in case of a fall. Floor recovery is about working on how to get up from different places where we might fall. Maybe there will be something to grab onto nearby, but this may not always be the case. 

I need to get serious about losing some weight. This will help with movement and my well-being in general. The goal is now primarily for health and much less a desire to look good. 

Fashion is no longer that important to me. I love seeing older women embrace fashion and really look stunning. That doesn’t seem to be my path. Comfortable shoes and clothes have become my priority. 

My aging face is different, as is my body. These are outward manifestations of the truth of aging. Now I face another level, seeing that my functioning is different.

Things I can change and those that I cannot and the gifts in it all. 

 I can lose some of the extra weight that I carry, but the weight of sadness, grief and loss is here with me to stay.

This weight of sadness can also come with the gift of deep gratitude. I notice that I have a deeper appreciation these days for each moment. I can take such delight in loving connections with others, both human and non-human. I feel my boundaries grow thinner as I feel the earth and its plants, trees and creatures all around me and even within me. I am often moved to tears from the beauty of the earth around me and I am so very grateful. 

The freedom that comes with choice.

There is freedom in saying no to things and to people that may not always be in my best interest . There is the freedom to then move to what does nourish me and help me thrive. 

No longer do I need to bear the weight of others’ judgments and opinions. No longer do I have to accept disrespect. No longer do I have to take care of others at my own expense. 

I can stretch my body, but realize that I no longer need to stretch myself out of my being and beyond my boundaries to accommodate that which is not good for me. 

I can slow down in doing what I do. I no longer need to try to live at the speed of youth. I can slow down to the speed of wisdom and appreciation for each sacred moment. Let me enjoy each moment, do what I can with a full heart and spirit, give where I can, and rest as needed. 

I can allow myself to do nothing when that is what I need, as this quiet time helps me hear the voice of the Universe, both within me and outside of me.

 I can keep learning to enjoy the art of being. I can be more conscious to choose what is appropriate for me now and relish each moment. I can appreciate this wonderful body and all that it has given me and continues to give me. 

My heart still beats and loves. My spirit speaks eloquently and softly. I am still so very much alive.