Quiet Eldering

Quiet, but no less powerful

I have live most of my life thus far quietly. I learned that this style was the best way to feel safe in my childhood, given a very strict and authoritarian father whose anger was intense. Although he never lashed out physically, he was quick to anger. I don’t think that he was aware of how scary his anger could feel to a child, how scary his face looked when he was angry. My survival technique became to retreat into quiet solitude and to try and become as invisible as I could (not easy for an only child).

As I write this, I want to express my appreciation to the wonderful author, Susan Cain, who has given us all such a gift with her book Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking. She helped to give voice to introverts, creating space for the value of human life in all of its expressions. She helped give words to much of what I have experienced in my life and helped to validate its worth.

So, now as an elder, as I continue to explore this unfamiliar land of elderhood, I find that unlike what my fantasies had been (which was to have everything figured out by now and to be the best version of myself, which I think in my fantasies was different than my usual quiet self, imagining that I would somehow turn into this more gregarious, social, outgoing and together person. Nope, not happening.)

Of course, my core is still there. I think that, as a relatively quiet person, I get to hear a whole lot more with my mouth shut and my ears open. I still don’t like anger and conflict, and that’s ok. I don’t have to like it to express it or to be able to deal with it. I can be strong, set boundaries, and yet still retain my true core of quietness.

I don’t have to be loud, even though I still think that being loud gets more attention and gets noticed more, at least initially. I can wait to speak my piece/peace, can take my time to think about what I want to say (after observing, listening. processing, and formulating my thoughts). That was something else that I thought would change, that I would somehow get faster, think better on my feet. Once again, nope. And you know what? It’s ok that I take my time to process my thoughts and feelings. Being faster and louder is not better, just different.

Different ways to express ourselves

I recently attended a presentation by an artist. He spoke from his heart as he described his art, his life, his feelings. I was intrigued by not only his art, but the story that he told behind it . After the presentation, people in the audience rushed up to talk with him, as often happens. They were in a group around him, each waiting to get his attention and speak with him. This kind of scene is not my strength; competition is not my favorite. So, I wondered how I could express my appreciation in a way that worked for me and got my reaction across to him. I walked up to where he was, but at a respectable distance and not part of the group that surrounded him. I waited until he happened to look my way, and while making eye contact with him, I put my hands onto my heart and smiled. He, while maintaining eye contact, smiled back as he in turn placed his hands on his heart. Message sent and received and enough said. The interaction felt complete. It was all the conversation that I needed. I was touched by how words were not needed. Now, I have nothing against words, given how much I love to express myself in my writing. But we quiet folks can still say a whole lot amid our silence.

Of course, there are challenges that can be particularly hard, like meetings at work where I felt like I had to fight to get a word in or had to interrupt someone, which seemed to be the norm for meetings. (I am happily retired now, so that challenge is no longer part of my life, but I do still feel twinges of the same pattern when in any group.)

This makes me appreciate even more the idea of a talking stick (used by some Indigenous peoples of North America.) With this tradition, you have the floor when holding the stick and maintain the sacred right to speak, so that (gasp) you can even pause to collect your thoughts without worrying about someone interrupting you. (I also have another idea for a different kind of talking stick to be able to hold up…one that stops mansplaining in its tracks…but that is for another article!)

I take my time (most of the time) reacting to things. I realize that this may change as I continue to practice speaking up more, or maybe it won’t change. I can give myself grace with this part of who I am and with this being my style and my pattern. I don’t have to judge myself harshly about this. I can keep working with this, and maybe even try out new ideas…like introducing myself and my style, thus planting a seed that may create more space for it, bringing it into others’ awareness. Another idea is to verbally claim a space during any meeting for the quieter folks to speak their mind without interruption. This could be a way to begin to create more awareness and space for quieter folks, where they don’t have to fight to be heard, where they can quietly, with a bit more time, express what they wish.

I think a lot about quiet versus loud. Quiet waits, listens, remains, endures, stays steady, has its own kind of power, its own way of connection, its own selfhood, its own depth and richness, its own worth.

Acceptance of what is and who I am

So, now as an elder, I still don’t jump into conversations. I still avoid conflict but will handle what I need to when it is called for. I can also create space to discern who may not be able to listen, so that I don’t have to keep hitting my head against the wall trying to get something that is not available at that time. I can pick my battles, choose my times, and embrace the power of NO. I can choose my family, my tribe, my space.

I am an elder, old enough to finally accept who and what I am. I realize that not all invitations to battle require a response. I can use my own weapons of choice in a conflict (Remember the scene in the movie Raiders of the Lost Ark? There was a scene where Indiana Jones’ opponent shows his tremendous skill with all his knives and martial arts. Indiana Jones watches him for a while, knows that he cannot compete with this, pulls out his gun and shoots him. He used his own weapons!)

I can own my quietness and the truth of who I am and how I am. I can seek out those who relate and can speak my language. I can help people see and hear that I did express myself, but that they may not have heard me since I was speaking in my own quiet dialect. Someone who speaks this dialect may indeed express an opinion or put forth an idea, but it may not be heard until someone who speaks the dialect of loud or extroversion expresses the same thing, but is heard because that dialect more easily gets attention in our culture.

So, I realize that I am not “cured”. I never needed to be. Aging, for me, has come with more acceptance of who I am, recognizing that there is also power in quiet, not letting others tell me who I am, what my values should be, or how I should express them.

To my fellow quiet elders, you have a life that has been richly lived. There is power in your quiet as well as sustainability, endurance, and depth. We have our own brand of wisdom, for those who may want to hear it. We can listen to our own music, our own version of our life song, quieter, but no less melodious or rich.

Self-Confidence

Always a challenge for me

We have issues that we work on for our entire lives.

One of my major issues has been self-confidence or lack there-of.

I marvel at others around me who jump in confidently, even as beginners, and just believe that they will do ok.

I have never been that way.

I can trace this pattern back to my childhood, as we can with many of our patterns. In their attempt to try and help me be my best, my parents unintentionally taught me to never be sure of myself, to doubt what I do, to believe that others could do it better, to shrink back and not try, as I would be sure to embarrass myself (or them?). I don’t write this to blame them, as they did what they knew to do and had their own pain from their very difficult childhoods. But it is important to see how long this has been a pattern for me and the resulting cost to my life.

I am an elder now. I am trying new things, as I want to keep learning and challenging myself and want to be an active participant in this precious life while I am still alive. And this old familiar pattern of mine once again makes its presence known, screaming at me from within, telling me to shrink, hold back, stop trying, let others do things who will do them so much better than I ever will.

It’s an excruciatingly painful issue for me, to feel my own inner voice beating myself up, trying to hold me back, telling me to fade into the background and to stop being foolish enough to think that I can learn new things and do them well. Just who do you think that you are, the voice within continues. You don’t have what it takes. You will never be as good as. You will never be enough. Stop embarrassing yourself. Stop trying. Hide in safety.

Can anyone out there relate to this?

I am training for several volunteer positions, one with our local zoo and another with a wildlife rescue hospital. I have been attending classes, trying to pay attention to what I am told and doing my best to learn what I need to know. I think that my anxiety can sometimes get in the way of my learning, as the voices within can get loud enough to drown out my hearing what I need to learn.

I had a shift yesterday, and the person that I was hooked up with for the day pretty much left me to my own, told me to just do things that, although we had classes about it, I had never actually done before. I kept asking questions, kept apologizing for being slow and for asking all my questions. She was not kind in her look to me or her demeanor. I felt so alone and so once again like the little girl who had dared to put herself out there only to be shamed again into feeling inadequate. I later came to find out that others have felt this way with this particular person and also found out that she does not enjoy training others and prefers to do things alone.

Nonetheless, to meet these issues inside me yet again, now as an elder, is quite humbling. I thought that I would be past this by now.

I realize that I don’t do well with someone who is critical, who is not supportive and kind, who is demanding and quietly disappointed. It reinforces those negative voices inside me and adds to the evidence against my worth.

As an only child, I learned to keep things like this to myself, to feel like there was really no one to reach out to, that I had to handle things on my own. I still do that these days, thinking that I deserve the bad feelings that I have, that how dare I have tried once again to think that I could do what others do? Have I not learned my lessons yet?

So, maybe the lessons are these…

We have deep issues that will remain, and we get to keep working on them.

We get to forgive ourselves as many times as needed.

We get to do our best to heal ourselves into health.

We get to stop comparing ourselves to others.

We get to love ourselves…faults, issues, and all.

We still can be grateful for it all — the lessons, the challenges, the imperfections, the growth, the gift of being who we are. And maybe being who we are isn’t such a bad thing after all and it’s ok to be good enough, to claim our right to live as and who we are. Of course we can try to do our best, but perhaps we can let go of the constant criticism.

Aging can bring acceptance. We can finally allow ourselves to fully inhabit this self that we are. We can come home to ourselves, imperfections and all. We can see each ourselves, each other, and our common humanity with empathy and love and even feel closer to each other because of it. And with this can come the healing and love that we have been looking for all along.

My Last Day of Being 72

The next birthday is upon me

Tomorrow I will reach the age of 73. The number still somehow amazes me. When did that happen? I don’t remember. It’s all a blur after reaching 70. That felt like a major turning point.

Yes, I will hear age is just a number, life is what you make it, be grateful you have arrived as many people don’t get the chance to get here. I agree with all of that. And I still have the right to all my feelings about it. I feel gratitude for life, for being here still, for each breath. And I have other feelings about it too. That’s part of the joy and challenge of being human. We can contain so many different and sometimes conflicted feelings at the same time.

So, please bear with me as I express some of the feelings that can sometimes make others feel compelled to give me advice, which feels like telling me to not share those parts of me. The feelings are part of the mix, part of my story, part of my journey and do not negate the rest of the feelings. We sometimes have such a need to categorize things as good or bad, ok to feel or not, worthwhile or not. But they are just feelings that are part of my human experience. And it’s ok to feel them all. We can learn from all of it.

With that in mind, here is a bit of what is going on inside me today.

I am increasingly aware of the road before me being much shorter than the road behind me. I sometimes get scared of this great unknown. I am thinking that it is time to make the final arrangements. I have the estate plan, but have procrastinated on this last detail. It’s time.

I have issues from my past that I contain within me still. Somehow part of me must have believed that I would magically work through them all one by one and reach a state of not having them anymore. Well, that didn’t happen!

I still feel the feelings of my childhood, the critical voices that became part of my head that tried to steer me and protect me from more pain coming my way, the feelings of inadequacy, shame, regret, not being good enough, feeling less than whomever I might be comparing myself to, guilt about mistakes, and more.

I sometimes get lost in memories of the past that come uninvited. I try to acknowledge them, give them their due, and keep going. Some days that is easier to do than others. Today is not one of those days. It’s ok. There are still lessons to learn.

I have had my battles, my victories, my defeats. I have been in and out of relationships. I could have done better in them, but I did what I knew at the time. They each taught me something and got me to where I am today.

I was married and am so grateful for that experience and for the husband that I had. We divorced, and I am happy that he found someone that is a good fit and that he is still married to. I want the best for him. That wasn’t me. Too many conflicts arose from issues from my childhood that made it hard for me to allow intimacy beyond a certain level. I am single these days and grateful for the time left to be able to explore what is still within me that needs to be heard, validated, and allowed to be expressed and nurtured. I can now face myself alone (along with all the internal voices, of course) and really listen…at least some of the time.

I chose a career that might not have been my first love. But, I learned from it and now, in retirement, can choose activities that fit better with the voice of my soul.

I have been a people-pleaser and have chosen relationships from that dynamic, which has not always been the best for anyone. I look at that now and choose differently as to who is in my tribe and who I spend precious time with. There are times that spending time alone is the best companion that I need right then. I don’t give people a ticket to comment on who I am nearly as easily as I used to.

I have reached elderhood and find myself surprised to not have all the answers. Indeed, I seem to have more questions than ever but seem to have learned to live more comfortably with and in the questions. It is more ok to not know and say that.

Saying I don’t know is easier. Saying no is easier. Saying I need time to think about that is easier. That is a relief beyond description.

Today I will go and do one of my volunteer shifts at the zoo. It brings me joy to be around the animals, especially at our local zoo which works hard at putting the animals first, at conservation, at education. I love talking with the guests about their experience, teaching what I can, sharing the joy of being there, especially these days and with what we are dealing with in our country and in the world.

Tomorrow I think that I will take a long walk in the redwoods, which is my cathedral. Those ancient beings speak to my soul. I feel held there, loved there, accepted there, part of it all.

I will hear from friends with well wishes, and that is such a gift to have people in my life who remember me, care about me, and take the time to reach out and make contact.

Most of all, I will spend the day asking my soul and spirit how it is, what it may need from me, and do my best to listen and give myself what I need. Most of the time that is done in solitude for me, probably coming from having been an only child and having alone time be my safe place in the world.

And I will be expressing and feeling deep gratitude for it all. I feel grateful for the joy, the pain, the lessons, the grief, the connections, the very air that I breathe in this body that I have been gifted for a while. Part of my gratitude will be for you, who take the time to read what I write. That is an honor for me and a sacred gift. I write from my heart and soul and you take the time to hear that, which can be rare in our world today. Thank you.

My final words to the Universe for this moment in time?

Thank you for it all. Thank you.