AGEFULLY AGING

Inspirational reflections on this and that.

Recent Posts

  • DOOM-SCROLLING?

    The Australian government just announced that children under 16 can no longer have access to social media! They’ve taken the science—which says that it damages mental health—seriously. “Three hours of doom-scrolling sends the brain’s nervous system into chronic stress.” As a therapist with one, too many suicidal teens addicted to Snap, TikTok and Insta, this is a brief sigh of relief.

    The iPhone generation has the world in the palm of their hands and many don’t know what to do with all that power. I’m grateful my childhood was filled with doing things instead of watching them. I had HOURS to sew, cook, skateboard, fish, play piano, watch ants and handwrite letters. A 3-channel black and white TV and transistor radio were my only distractions. So, recently, when my shorts (above) split after one wash, I could fix them myself.

    Being ‘old school’ is a gift that I’ve only come to appreciate in my old age. It’s kept me curious. I’ve never doom-scrolled not because I’m virtuous but because unless I’m wearing glasses, I can barely even read my phone. Without a magnifying glass, it holds little interest. Instead, I ‘brain-stack,” that is, spend time on things that add to my knowledge instead of my angst..

    I’m grateful to apps like Audible because I can now listen to books while working out or driving. This week, I finished Arundhati Roy’s memoir, “Mother Mary Comes to Me,” about her childhood with an inspirational but bitterly cruel mother. Roy narrates and her voice puts you smack into the heart of her native India. (She won the Man Booker prize for “The God of Small Things” in 1997.)

    I’m also 10 chapters into “Every Story is a Love Story” by Imbolo Mbue. In her novel about despair and forgiveness, the main character loses his wife and unborn twins in a car accident. Mbue writes the male character as if she were him and forces you to look at tragedy/mercy in a dramatically, different way.

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  • FORGIVE AND FORGET? NOT A CHANCE

    A mother and daughter recently came to me for therapy. The daughter wants ‘an apology’ from her mother for the trauma she endured in her youth. The mother says she should just ‘forgive and forget.”

    “That’ll never happen,” I say.

    “Why not?”

    “Because she remembers every bit of it.”

    “Well, I’ve tried to forget it.”

    “How’s that working out?”

    “Not good.”

    “How about apologizing to her simply because she has these sad memories?”

    “Then everything’s my fault.”

    “No. This isn’t about blame. You’re just acknowledging her pain.”

    “Forgive and forget’ don’t belong in the same sentence. To forgive someone for something, you have to remember what they did. If you remember it, you’re not forgetting and that’s a good thing. Our memory protects us. If the cave man forgot that dinosaurs were dangerous, we humans would never have survived.

    Recently, a friend suggested I, “forgive and forget” a player in our sports group with whom I was once quite friendly. However, after he was scarily vindictive towards another player I became wary. Forgiving his behavior is one thing but knowing what he’s capable of? I’m polite but keep my distance. Why befriend someone who victimizes others?

    If friends are egregious, step away. If they’ve wronged you? Don’t hold a grudge—it’s bad for your health—but don’t hold on to them either. A little caution is prudent. Many of us cling to unhealthy relationships because we want to be liked and that’s a huge problem. 72% of women who are stalked never file restraining orders! I know. I was one!

    Encouraging my clients in abusive relationships to call 911 is difficult. One woman’s ex broke into her apartment through a bathroom window, smacked her around, raped her, then smashed her phone when she tried to call for help. Afterwards, she was too afraid to press charges and told me that she was just ‘grateful’ her young son wasn’t home when it happened. Grateful?

    In “The Godfather,” Michael Corleone says, “Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.” It’s a great soundbite, but not smart. Try to make nice with your stalker and you can end up dead. Befriend someone with incorrigible behavior and people will question yours. You have nothing to gain by cozying up to scoundrels. If you don’t want a rat in your house, stop feeding it cheese.

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    • KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN

      I saw my first dead body up close when I was 12. It happened quite by accident. I was walking home from school in New York City and passed by a church. There was a long line outside, and always curious, I stopped to find out what was going on. “It’s a funeral,” someone said. “But why is everyone lined up out here instead of inside?” I asked. “We’re waiting to view the body,” another added.

      That gave me pause. “View the body.” What exactly did that mean? How do you ‘view’ a dead body, with a special magnifying glass or something? Was the person dressed? Were they stuffed? If they were already dead, why would someone want to look at them? All I could think of was that if I were dead, I certainly would NOT want anyone ‘viewing’ me. That would be pretty embarrassing.

      Now I was really curious. I just had to see what this was all about. Casually, I sauntered to the end of the line. Since everyone else had a serious face, I put mine on, too. We moved soberly toward the front door of the church, then down the aisle towards a large, glossy, wooden box. One by one, the mourners ahead of me stopped in front of the box, looked down, crossed themselves and left. I was getting closer. My heart was beating so fast that I could hear it in my ears.

      There was a man in there! He was dressed up in a nice, new suit and really, shiny, leather shoes. He looked perfectly fine with a nice haircut and everything, only his eyes were closed and he wasn’t breathing. I know because I stood there long enough to be sure of that. I had never seen anyone so completely still before.

      Then I noticed his hands. They had been placed on his chest in a way that I imagine he had never put them in real life. His fingers were stiff and awkward as if they had been sculpted by a very, bad artist. They did not seem to belong to his hands at all!

      I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I didn’t even wait for my bus home and ran all 27 blocks. As long as everything was still moving on me, I planned to keep moving it. Gotta keep your eyes open as long as you can. Someday, someone else will be closing them. Until then, there’s always something around the next corner and it might just change your life.

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    • YOU DON’T LISTEN!

      In today’s Washington Post, couple’s therapist, Zach Brittle, said there are three words he does not use at home with his wife—”No,” “But” and “You.” Read his stellar advicehere. Similarly, there is a three-word phrase often used by couples in my practice which unequivocally guarantees that anyone hearing it will shut down immediately: “You don’t listen.” (“You” is one of Brittle’s three words.)

      When we tell someone they ‘don’t listen,’ we are really saying that they haven’t heard the message we are trying to send. Thus, the real problem is our communication, not their ears. Getting our message across is our responsibility not theirs. Why tell the other person they ‘don’t listen’ just because we didn’t get the response we wanted?

      Not only is, “You don’t listen,” negative. It will never inspire mutual communication. Instead, why not say, ‘I don’t think my message was clear. Let me rephrase it.’ It’s such an easy fix and doesn’t denigrate the listener. If you are really intent in getting your point across, repeat your message. That’s far more effective than hurling an insult.

      Recently, during one of my couple’s sessions, the wife said to her husband, “You never listen to me.” I stopped her.

      “Instead of telling him that he ‘never listens,’ what is it that you want him to hear from you?

      “Um, I want him to know that he doesn’t hear me.”

      “So, what exactly do you want him to ‘hear?’

      She said nothing for a long moment.

      “I want him to hear that I’m lonely.”

      He looked shocked.

      “Have you told him you feel lonely?”

      “No.”

      Just like we have our own ‘love language,’ we also have our own style of communication. Some thrive with facts and figures, while others resonate better with feelings. Such was the case when I went car shopping. When the first salesman spouted a zillion numbers from engine size to gas mileage, I walked away. When the second emphasized the warm seats, lumbar support, and unobstructed views, I reached for the keys.

      Dale Carnegie’s book, “How to Win Friends and Influence People,” sat on our kitchen table in 1965. It was all the rage. Both my mother and stepfather read it but maybe not closely enough because they divorced the same year. Carnegie advised, “Always start a conversation with praise and appreciation.” Couldn’t we all use a little more of that?

    • ADVICE FROM A THERAPIST: TAKE ONE AND CALL ME NEXT MONTH

      Considering I’m a therapist, you may find this next sentence odd: I don’t recommend therapy for most folks. While it offers a safe refuge for the beaten down, grief-stricken and emotionally distraught it is a temporary respite, not a cure. Google says therapy works for 75% of clients but that’s only if they do the work. Otherwise, it’s just alot of wheel spinning for both hamster and observer. 

      Clients often present as victims or villains but we’re all a little of both. The victims are there because of their parents, spouses, bosses or whomever. This self-pity continues long after they’ve grown into adulthood. The villains consider themselves worthless and destined to fail. Thus, they usually do, so a therapist can help them read the label when they’re in the bottle.

      Therapy is not the be-all and end-all that many profess. So, why rely on the word of a stranger you pay instead of on your own good sense? And if you do seek professional advice but don’t act on it, it’s like hiring a personal trainer then just sitting on the equipment. Since Solomon’s paradox says that I’m likely to give you better advice than I take myself, you might wanna listen now and then. 

      No two clients feel the same way about me (nor I about them). They see me differently because everyone has a different lens. One says I’m both “mentor and tormentor,’ because my counsel forces her to challenge herself. Another thinks I’m, “The Ted Lasso of Therapy,” because I’m “so optimistic.” (Since he’s open and willing to try everything, it’s easy to feel optimistic). 

      That said, every client who changes for the better does so because of their own choices, not mine. My goal is to help them untangle their knots, ground them in a more hopeful reality and suggest healthier choices for their future. However, when a client returns weekly with the same issue and no discernible shift, it’s a waste of their money and my time. So, I’ll say, “Let’s revisit this in a month.”

      If a therapist is really worth their salt, a few sessions should suffice. Would you see your financial advisor weekly? No. You’d formulate a plan, then run with it. Lately, having a therapist has become a status symbol but I think we’re more like defibrillators: good in a crisis if you need a jumpstart. Otherwise, save your money, confide in a friend, take a walk or write in your diary. 

    • 20 TIPS IF YOU’RE TRAVELLING TO EUROPE

      1. When crossing the street in London, always look the wrong way first! You’re less likely to get whacked by a red double-decker bus or an electric Lime bike. The latter is far more dangerous.

      2. Do not ask a stranger for directions while standing in front of a mental hospital.

      3. Do not ask a stranger for directions, particularly one wearing white ear buds.

      4. Do not ask a stranger for directions until you get to know them first.

      5. In Amsterdam, don’t walk on the lovely, tempting, red brick path! It’s for bicycles only not pedestrians and they don’t stop!

      6. Everyone calls you “Luv.” (Makes me wonder what they call their loved ones.)

      7. Recycling is huge. Brown, unbleached toilet paper, the scratchier the better, is de rigueur. As for straws? Hollow, uncooked pasta fills the bill.

      8. When going through security in Ibiza, Spain you will be forced through the X-ray machine even when you tell them (in Spanish) that your metal knees will set off the alarm. When you do set off the alarm, they will put their hands on their holsters, call for backup, swab your hands for gunpowder residue, pat you down front and back, then send you back through it again. When you set off the alarm yet again, they will go through the entire routine again.

      9. No matter how ‘light’ you travel, by the 4th set of stairs in any train station, or the 3rdset of escalators in any airport, it’s always too heavy.

      10. Considering the lengths Europeans go to be environmentally sound, those screaming banshee, electric hand blowers are everywhere! The noise is horrific. So, I wash my hands, wave them like I’m being robbed and run.

      11. Be sure to update your Google maps or you, too, may take a 15-minute walk and have to be rescued two hours later from a random street corner.

      12. If you order a ‘large salad,’ it will contain exactly 5 leaves of exhausted lettuce, 3 unripe (or spoiled) cherry tomatoes and a zillion sliced onions.

      13. If you want a large salad, go to the local grocery store, buy a head of lettuce, and start chewing.

      14. When dining al fresco in Spain, expect stray cats to jump up in your lap.

      15. If you are taking a shower with a faucet that you do not recognize, do not stand naked under it! Turn it on first and see if you can regulate the temperature. That way you will not be sopping wet, freezing and wrapped in a tiny towel when asking your Airbnb host for HELP.

      16. If you get stopped by the police in Spain for glancing at your phone while navigating the route, the ticket will be $200. If you accompany them to the local ATM, you can settle it for $100.

      17. All beaches are topless, so there’s less to pack! !! Plus, no matter how you look, it will be better than 95% of what you see around you. I promise. Also, you can tell the locals from the tourists by their lack of tan lines.

      18. Speaking of topless, a ‘flat white’ is not a description of me, but the most popular coffee in London! It’s a double shot of espresso with velvety foam milk and a unique design on top. On second thought, it IS a description of me!

      19. Oh, and if a Brit says, “You all right?” They are NOT asking if you are okay. They’re just saying, “Hi.”

      20. Finally, before you leave the States get Global Entry. After my 12-hour nightmare of a return flight, hundreds of my fellow travellers were jam-packed into the Customs & Immigration queue. Since I was the ONLY one in Global Entry, it took me less than 10 seconds to clear!

    • THE ROAD TAKEN

      Recently, two 30-somethings took me on some wild journeys through Spain and England. I had forgotten what it was like to go off-road, not knowing what lies ahead. Once, I went for a quick, solo walk and they had to rescue me from a street corner after over an hour of wrong turns! (In my defense, my Google GPS had not ‘updated.’) Still, it quickly became obvious that I’ve gone from gregarious, gallivanting girl to slow-motion, stuck-in-the-mud senior.

      Like them, I often took “The Road Not Taken” in my youth. I was determined NOT to ‘follow the crowd.’ Once on a hiking trip with friends, we came to a fork in the road. Everyone else opted for the well-worn route towards the river. I decided to forge a windier route upwards. Though my path was steeper and less travelled, I was certain to beat the others to the waters’ edge.

      The path began simply but after a few minutes became so narrow with branches and tree roots that I had to get on my knees and crawl upwards a few feet at a time. Suddenly, the trail widened! In my haste, I stood up too fast and slid backwards a foot. Had that not happened, my next full step would have been straight over the abrupt edge of a cliff that dropped several hundred feet into a rushing river!

      My body went limp and my heart pounded. I was so close to the edge that I didn’t dare turn around and retreat. There simply wasn’t enough ground. Dizzying fear kept me from looking down again. Any lean forward would veer me over the edge. Holding my breath, I backed up inch by agonizing inch.

      Roads are like people. You never quite know where they will lead. Some take you on wonderful journeys and offer splendid views. Others are dead ends. “Yet, knowing how way leads on to way,” we’re not likely to get a second chance at any journey. These days, I’m just grateful to still be ON the road!

      My young companions took me to sights I would never have seen alone. Lucky me! I took them on a different adventure altogether: experiencing firsthand what it’s like to be 4 decades older, navigating the unknown. If they’re lucky enough to get here one day, the path just might not feel so foreign.

    • HORSING AROUND

      Having fun at my age involves a little more thought than it used to. For example, I can no longer just jump on my shopping cart and fly willy nilly down the produce aisle. Certain parameters must be in place first:

      1. All four wheels must be oiled and turn well. (One bad wheel and I’m a goner.)

      2. There must be sufficient weight in the basket like a big watermelon or a 25-pound bag of carrots for ballast, so I don’t jump on and flip over backwards.

      3. I must be wearing tennis shoes. Flip flops are no longer prudent.

      4. I must look way ahead to be sure the coast is clear. There’s nothing worse than being in the middle of a good ride only to have some idiot turn around in front of me while holding a carton of eggs.

      5. Wheelies are now off limits. I don’t dare fall lest I break something.

      6. Wide arcing turns are also out so I don’t accidentally take out that flimsy soda can display! (If this sounds a bit too specific, it really wasn’t my fault. The right front wheel suddenly jammed and slammed me smack into it.)

      If only I could share my passion for harmless mischief onto my clients. The one thing the depressed ones have in common is they can’t remember the last time they had fun. I find this mind-boggling. I can’t remember a single day when I haven’t had fun, made fun or found fun in something.

      The nice thing about aging is the wisdom to know what doesn’t work. It’s all about finding balance: that is, using what little I have left to my utmost ability. I could give up my escapades, forego the giggles from store clerks and eye rolls from other shoppers. I could push my cart normally down the aisle like everyone else.

      But doesn’t it seem dumb to hit the PAUSE button when I’m not dead yet? My Granny used to say, “don’t put the cart before the horse, darling,” meaning I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. But by golly, this horse likes the cart in front of her so she can jump on and coast! So, as long as there’s still a little horsepower left in my chassis that’s exactly what I intend to do. Wanna race??

    • THE CRAZE NOT TO AGE

      Recently, I was walking in downtown Sedona, Arizona when a lovely, young woman standing in front of a shop smiled and waved at me. I smiled and waved back. As I drew near, she chatted me up. When I started to leave, she said (a little too enthusiastically), “I would LOVE to give you a free, eyebrow lift!”

      I told her that ‘unless that eyebrow lift pulls the rest of me up with it, I’m not interested.’ I’d rather do a handstand. I do them every day: against doors, walls and even the fence at the pickleball court. I figure it’s a full body lift–without the scalpel! Besides, cosmetic surgery always looks a bit ‘off.’ You tighten one part and the rest just looks desperate to catch up to it. Plus the risks outweigh the rewards because you can see the mistakes.

      Still, the craze not to age is everywhere! Lately, this 30-something man raves online about his ‘Botox injections’. He doesn’t even have a wrinkle on his elbows! Every day my inbox is filled with stupid emails like, “How to take years off your neck!” Look, I don’t want ‘em off my neck. How about starting with my feet? Besides, I worked hard for every, single one of these lines.

      What message are we sending the younger generation? ‘Whatever you do don’t smile because it causes wrinkles?” Even boomers are getting more plastic surgeries, including ‘facial fat grafting!’ (Who knew?) You cannot ‘fight’ age. It carries on in spite of you. There’s not a shot, pill or procedure that is ever going to stop 50 from looking like 50. 20 years ago, Oil of Olay promised to make my skin ‘look younger,’ but it has not removed one, single DAY from my face!

      In 1980, model Kelly LeBrock became famous for a Pantene commercial in which she said, “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.” We need a commercial today that says, “Don’t hate me because I’m adorably worn and wrinkly!” Looking younger does not mean looking better. You can use red light therapy, chew organic kale and do squats till your butt explodes but it won’t keep you young. What will? Doing what you love with people who make you laugh. Meanwhile, I plan to continue looking exactly like myself and doing handstands. You’re welcome to join me!

    • THERE’S NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT

      AND NO PRESENT LIKE TIME

      As someone raised by both her grandmother and great-grandmother, I learned early to appreciate the elderly. So, when my girls were young, I had them play piano at nursing homes. I wanted them to see what it’s like to get really old and to understand that when you can no longer take care of yourself, strangers do it. At first, they were intimidated but eventually, they enjoyed making the old folks smile.

      While those experiences had a sobering effect on them, it didn’t last long, and that’s probably a good thing. Why dwell on one’s demise before one reaches the brink of all possibility? As adults now, their lives are mostly ahead of them. They are presently navigating all those crazy, winding chapters after, “The Preface.”

      We often forget that all of Life’s chapters carry equal importance. A life builds on itself over time. How can you comprehend Chapter 27 if you haven’t read Chapter 8? And while our stories end at the Conclusion, every chapter before played a crucial, integral part. One was not more important than any other.

      I cherished my children from the moment they began forming inside of me. I marveled over their first words, held my breath as they took their first steps, dried their tears, and held them close. Someday, though, someone else will hear their last words, watch their final steps, dry their tears and hopefully, hold them close. But I won’t be here. I have done the math.

      When I was 16, my grandmother taught me how to drive. She was so sharp and spot-on. But when I turned 40, I was putting her in diapers. How fast we fade. Our lives are a constant and continual balancing of opposing forces. So, until we run out of words and the breath that carries them, we must embrace the page we’re on. When a light like Dolly’s goes out, we, realize that we, too, shall pass.

      This morning, my oldest asked me what I was ‘looking forward to.’ Perhaps she thought I’d say, “Going to Europe next week.” Instead, I replied, “I’m just happy being with you.” And I was. The fleetingness of time is not on her radar yet. By the time it is, I’ll be long gone. Psychoanalyst Carl Jung said, “Only the paradox comes anywhere near to comprehending the fullness of life.” And it is SO full, isn’t it?

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