AGEFULLY AGING

Inspirational reflections on this and that.

Recent Posts

  • LOSING SLEEP OVER SLEEP?

    Ever since I began wearing an OURA ring, I’ve become obsessed with my sleep. It’s called orthosomnia: I must get a perfect sleep number each night, or I’m devastated. If I wake up groggy but my score is 90, I bolt out of bed! If I wake feeling great but my score is 75, I droop. (I should have watched this video first.) Plus, sleep becomes more fragmented as you age. If I wake in the middle of the night, my intrusive thoughts squeeze like wasps through the vents of my thinking and keep me up.

    Many of my friends smoke weed or eat gummies to fall asleep. Not me. I tried marijuana once in 1971. After eating an entire Sara Lee chocolate-fudge cake with Cheez Whiz and Kraft Marshmallow Cream on top, I was cured. Besides, I’d hate to swallow something that makes me loopy and not be able to unswallow it. Marijuana suppresses REM sleep, which is critical for memory consolidation and emotional regulation. If you get less than an hour and a half of REM each night, your anxiety and stress increase. Not a good look.

    Also, as you age , you naturally forfeit good, quality sleep. OURA has shown me that I need to be in bed before 10. Otherwise, I’m a mess. No more late dinners because you need three hours to fully digest a meal. Going to bed on a full stomach interferes with deep sleep. Even genetics affect sleep, and this expert tells you why. Chronic disrupted sleep impairs cognitive function. As for ‘catch-up sleep?’ According to the experts, naps may make you feel better, but lack of quality sleep over time takes a toll.

    There are a zillion sleep remedies out there. Most don’t work for me. So, here’s mine: If I want a good night’s sleep, I need a good day’s workout—every day. Before I turn in, I wash the dishes, clean the sink, fold the laundry, and put it away. I pay all bills, answer emails, then empty my junk and trash folders. I respond to every text and phone call and try to resolve any issue with a child, friend, or enemy. Then? I close my eyes and pretend I’m at the beach listening to the waves.

  • REAL LOVE?

    Call me old-fashioned, but this is how real love should make you feel—lifted. I spend many an hour working with couples of every color and gender. Often, they come to me too late, long after the irreparable damage has been done. There are those with contempt so thick you can’t cut it with a knife, while others quietly seethe. Some loudly protest the injustices they’ve suffered at the hand of their partners. Still others are so mismatched one wonders how they’ve even survived. Once, while counseling an older couple, the husband suddenly said, “You know? I just don’t want to argue with her anymore. I love her too much.” And he did. There’s hope!

    As a therapist in my seventh decade, my perspective on love is this: If you have to ask me if I think your partner loves you, they likely don’t. If you think a therapist can ‘fix’ your relationship, they likely can’t. If you want your partner to change to suit you, they likely won’t. If you’re about to marry and wonder if you are really in love, you likely aren’t.

    I don’t think I knew what real love was until I gave birth. The love I feel for my children is overwhelmingly unconditional, untouchable, and deeply “until death do (me) part.” It is the rare romantic partner who can live up to the bar that kind of love sets. I tell my younger clients, not only does love change with time, but the way you perceive it also changes. Thousands of songs have been written about love and the platitudes are endless:

    –Love is holding hands and not caring if the other person is holding too tight or not tightly enough.

    –Love is not having to prove you’re right or prove anything at all because there is nothing to prove.

    –Love is not making the other person happy (or expecting them to make you happy) but sharing in their joy.

    –Love lifts you up. It doesn’t break you down into your lowest common denominator as if you were a mathematical equation or squeeze you into a box.

    –Love always has your back—because you matter more than any scale of justice.

    And while there is truth in all of those, there is one sign that always resonates with me. I saw it in that elderly couple. ‘Real love’ is being with someone who smiles just because they’re looking at you. Perhaps James Baldwin said it best: “The longer I live the more deeply I learn that love—whether we call it friendship or family or romance—is the work of mirroring and magnifying each other’s light.”

    May someone magnify yours—and may you do the same.

  • HOT UNDER THE COLLAR? TAKE OFF YOUR SHIRT!

    Photo: I happened to look out a window when the Pocket Fire started in Sedona.

    Around age 11, I was on a tennis court with a neighborhood boy hitting balls around. It was summer and brutally hot. At one point, he took off his shirt and threw it on a chair, so I did too. He didn’t raise an eyebrow. Sometime later, a guy drove up in a golf cart and told me to put on my shirt because, “you’re a girl.” I was furious and pointed out that we both looked, “exactly the same.” He said I’d have to leave if I didn’t. It still makes me mad. Heat will do that to you.

    Since we are fully into the dog days of summer, take heed. This has been a record-breaking year for heat and wildfires. (The Japanese even coined a new word for it: ‘kokushobi’ which means, ‘cruel heat day.’) There is a good reason people get “hot under the collar.” Getting too hot obfuscates our thinking, derails our good judgment and causes everything from arguments to assaults. Heat can trigger psychotic episodes and heart attacks and also lead to an increase in crime, violence and murder.

    Another hot topic? Scientists recently discovered that testicles have tastebuds! Ever since, men around the world have been dipping theirs in hot sauce to see if they can ‘taste’ with them. They can’t. Mostly, they end up with red, raw scrotums. Oh, the things we try in the name of experimentation. But who am I to talk? I threw myself out of a perfectly good airplane several times.

    So, next time you feel an argument coming on, take off your shirt! (Ladies included.) Instead of dipping your anatomy in hot sauce, take a cold plunge. It can tame the wildest of beasts. Also, sleeping in too hot a room can trigger depression and anxiety because nighttime heat is even worse than daytime. So, if you don’t have AC like most of Europe, try an ice pack under the sheets or just curl up in the freezer.

    Better yet, pick up a copy of “Endurance” for a cool summer read. Follow explorer Sir. Ernest Shackleton as he leads 28 men on an expedition to the Antarctic in 1915. Considered “the greatest survival story in history,” you’ll have 300 pages of nothing but the cold, white ice floes of the Arctic to keep you chilled to the very bone. It made me shiver.

  • THE LIZARD, THE WITCH AND THE FALSE CONFESSION

    Photo: This headless lizard was dropped by a hawk on the pavement in front of me as I entered the pool. Foreshadowing?

    Recently, I went to a new pool to swim laps. I saw that Lane #3 was empty, so I got in and began swimming. Halfway down, a big guy began powering straight at me! We both stopped and looked startled at one another.

    “Um, would you mind sharing with another guy instead of me?” I asked.

    “Sure,” he said, and left. (This is not new behavior on my part: 20 years ago, when Ashton Kutcher asked to join my lane, I suggested he do the same. He was just as gracious. (Of course, the girl next to me thought I’d lost my mind.)

    When he left, a white-haired woman in the adjacent lane began yelling at me.

    “What do you think you’re doing?” she barked. “He’s been swimming in that lane for over an hour, and you just got in and told him to get out!”

    “No, he got in my lane,” I replied, “and I asked him if he would mind moving.”

    “Are you crazy? You got in HIS lane. Are you just stupid?”

    Now, I stopped sharing a lane years ago. I’ve had too many bad experiences, from getting kicked in the stomach while pregnant to being struck by a fin that left a three-inch scar on my shin. I’ll wait half an hour just to get 15 minutes to myself.

    Meanwhile, the witch was loudly telling those around her, that I had, “jumped in the lifeguard’s lane and told him to get out.” Everyone within earshot began staring at me. Each time I finished a lap, she bit my head off again:

    “Are you blind? How could you NOT see he was swimming there?”

    “How dare you tell him to get out of your lane!”

    “You shouldn’t even be allowed to swim here.”

    Confused and embarrassed, I began to doubt myself: Did I really get in his lane? But I never do that. How could I not see him? Granted, my eyesight isn’t what it used to be but am I that blind? She was SO adamant, that when I finished, I went straight to that lifeguard.

    “I’m so sorry I got in your lane,” I said. “Somehow, I just didn’t see you.”

    “Oh, no worries,” he smiled. “Actually, I got out to pee and get a drink. When I jumped back in, I didn’t even look. It was totally my fault.”

    If a stranger can make me doubt myself in mere minutes, imagine what a partner or business associate can do to someone over the course of years? Or consider what can happen in a police interrogation when you’re under duress? It took me 17 minutes to make my ‘false confession’ to that lifeguard. Hopefully, you wouldn’t have folded. Maybe you’d even have flipped her noodle over!

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    P. S. Turns out, the witch is there every day. So yesterday, I introduced myself and said, “Hi, I’m Helen, I think we got off to a rocky. . .” She cut me off mid-sentence continuing her diatribe. When she finally paused, I told her what the lifeguard said. Did she apologize? Nope. She simply turned her head away as if I didn’t exist. Maybe she’s deaf?

  • MIND HOARDERS

    I encountered this ‘ESTATE SALE’ on my morning walk. It was all unusable junk: lice-laden sofas, broken chairs, rusted weights from ancient barbells, cheap, bent silverware and clothes so stained and dog-haired, I’d be embarrassed to put them on a hangar. The nicest item was the white tent, which at first I mistook for a crime scene. Who keeps this garbage and why was there a line of people waiting to buy it?

    As a therapist, I’m well aware of the stuff people hang onto in their heads. Sometimes, I wish I could stick the end of a vacuum into a client’s ear and suck out the junk they’ve stored in there. If only it were that easy. Many are reluctant to relinquish the thoughts that have sustained and defined them thus far. Some wear their diagnoses like badges of honor but often, they’re simply excuses.

    Insurance companies are crazy mad for diagnoses but I hate doing them. At best they’re a guess. Despite what the DSM-V says, ALL of us are on the spectrum of something. I’m narcissistic, a bit autistic, fairly OCD and very ADHD but so what? It just makes me weird and interesting. Considering that we only show parts of ourselves to others, how good is a ‘partial’ diagnosis anyway? About as helpful as analyzing dark matter I figure.

    Decluttering a house is easy but clearing out the mind is much trickier. Once you let negative or contradictory thoughts hold you hostage, you become their prisoner. Further, if you have any unfinished business, be it with finances or friends, your brain fixes on it subconsciously until it’s completed. It’s called the Zeigarnick effect and can actually keep you up at night. It’s the sole reason I pay a bill the day I get it.

    Recently I took a 3-month rental and spent the first several hours removing tchotchkes, knick-knacks and dust-laden, artificial plants (there were seven)— which I stuck in a laundry basket. I added the dirty area rug and a broken chair and asked the landlord to cart it all off.

    “You sure you don’t want these,” he asked scratching his head.

    “Positive.”

    I simply cannot think straight in chaos and clutter. According to science, neither can you. So, purchase one of these and call me in the morning. 🙂

    P. S. I just finished “In My Skin,” by British author, Kate Holden. Reading this may make you queasy. It’s a visceral portrait of her life as a heroin addict and sex worker; a job, in which she took a rather surprising and immense sense of pride in.

    What I’m reading now: “Endurance” by Alfred Lansing about British explorer Edward Shackleton’s 1914 quest to reach Antarctica. He had the strongest ship ever built at the time, crafted by a Norwegian company. However, it was no match for the glacier of ice which pressed in on him from all sides at the start of Chapter Four.

    Yesterday, England prevailed over Norway in the World Cup! I rooted for both as my daughter is now living in England and my grandfather was from Oslo.

  • LAUGH, LOSE YOURSELF AND BE LIGHT

    Lest you think I’m not cool, here I am hanging out at Tumerico. According to YELP, it was the #1 pick of ‘the best restaurants in the USA’ in 2024! I always order the Frida Kahlo; a fresh tostada piled high with rice, beans, veggies and topped with a cashew cream sauce. It melts in your mouth smooth as butter; quite the opposite of Frida’s own rough, turbulent and painful life.

    Throughout history, great art has often been created by those whose lives were riddled with pain. We forget that it fashions each of us as well. How often have we been forced to change careers or life paths because of a sudden setback or tragedy? Did we rise from it or merely collapse? Were we broken or merely ‘stronger in the broken places’ like Hemingway suggested?

    A client recently told me that she was “broken” because she wasn’t married. So, I asked her, “Does that mean that the other 70 million, unmarried women in the US are ‘broken,’ too?” The statistic did not matter to her. Nor did the fact that she has no control over finding a willing partner. She’s accomplished professionally and has a child but that did not matter either. She thought she was broken. She was broken.

    Few of us live the lives we once thought (or dreamed) we would. Isn’t it fortunate that our realities became different than what we imagined? Haven’t our sorrows ultimately made us better people? Frida couldn’t stop the bus crash which almost killed her at 18 but it offered her a whole new direction. While she began a long recuperation that never really ended, she was given a canvas and paint.

    In the Japanese art of kintsugi, artisans patch up broken pottery and fill in the cracks with gold. Their philosophy is to embrace imperfection and acknowledge impermanence. So, I ask my client if she can find any ‘gold’ in her life to fill in her broken cracks. She thinks. She scowls. Then asks me as if uncertain, “My child?” 

    Examine a difficult time in your own life and see what good came from it. There will be something, no matter how small. Frida lined her cracks with gold just as she filled her paintings with color. How else could such a woman who was broken in every sense of the word have written this: “There is nothing more precious than laughter—it is strength to laugh, and lose oneself, to be light.” –Frida Kahlo

  • SNAP OUT OF IT!!!

    I’ll be honest. When I have a much younger client walk into my office, pull off their shoe and show me their barely swollen big toe which “really, really hurts,” I want to roll my eyes, But I don’t. Why? Because pain that appears minute to me is very real to them. Truth is, my own big toe is double the size, makes walking often painful and demands I buy a big-ass shoe just to compensate. The difference? I have a very high tolerance for pain. They don’t. Life’s not fair.

    Or is it? Recently, I met a jerk loaded with money who has no common sense, no kindness, no peace and no ‘unpurchased’ friends. Does living in a 7-million-dollar house make up for that? Don’t think so. I also met an office cleaner from China who makes minimum wage and is as happy as the day is long. None of us get a fair shake. We didn’t ask to be here. Yet here we are. That’s the real secret of life: To take what you get and run with it.

    All of which brings me to the moth above. He put SO much energy into his circles but after all his various gyrations, he ended up pretty much where he started. Aren’t we all like this? Don’t we spin our wheels, wheel and deal, give our spiels and simply get nowhere? (Sidenote: Did you know the vast majority of people in the world when walking, tend to move counter-clockwise? Just like the moth! Who dreams up these studies?)

    Yesterday, I spent an hour at the gym. I walked, climbed, did the bench press, bicep curls, back strengthening, leg press and the graviton machine. I even did a mile on the elliptical which kinda freaks me out. I feel like an octopus trying to keep track of all my limbs going in different directions. However, on my way out of the gym, I struggled to get the damn door open! 

    Why do I wake up every day excited about what might happen even if nothing does? Why do some people wake up and wanna go right back to sleep? Genetics? Circumstance? Orneriness? Look, if you think life is unfair and you need a Kardashian butt to be happy. If you find yourself circling the drain and getting nowhere, click on this moment from Moonstruck and SNAP OUT OF IT!

  • THE MOST DANGEROUS YEAR OF YOUR LIFE!

    Recently, I came upon this article and realized that I’m less than decade away from the most dangerous year of my life! Who knew? And that cracked me up because we’re all only seconds away from danger from the moment we’re born. Frankly, it’s a wonder we get out of the womb in one piece.

    Yesterday, a van was travelling south, in the opposite lane from me. Suddenly, it swung out of the far-left lane, crossed the double yellow line, and made a U-turn smack in front of me! Had I not seen it and slammed on my brakes, I wouldn’t have written this blog. That’s the scary beauty of life. We never know what’s gonna happen next. Certainly, my father didn’t think he’d drop dead at 36. He was happily doing flips off the diving board the day before.

    I’ll tell you the REAL most dangerous year of your life. It’s any year in which your stress outweighs your joy. It’s the year you stay in a job you hate and do so only for the money. It’s the year you realize your partner really isn’t. It’s the year you’re just trying to get through until you get to the next one. Or the year you totally take for granted because there will be oh so many more, only there won’t be.

    Don’t get me wrong. I’m not taking any chances. I’m so careful getting out of the shower you’d think I was doing the walking zombie. No broken hips for me. Just yesterday, someone asked me if I ever think about getting a motorcycle again. You bet I do. All the time. That Kawasaki Ninja looks like a dream. Would I throw my leg over it? Not a prayer. I know firsthand what it feels like to have 300 lbs. land smack on top of me and I’m not talking sex.

    This year alone, I had a rattlesnake come after me in my garage, was knocked flat by my pickleball partner, and narrowly missed a few collisions simply driving. Other than a chipped tooth and a bent finger, I’ve lived to see another day. Lately, I’ve been hanging out at the local Goofy Golf. Sure, I’ve tripped over a few of the obstacles, but in the process I did manage a hole-in-one!! Carry on my friends!

  • OFFLOAD OFF ROAD

    Not long ago, I was driving my youngest to the airport. She was in a hurry as is oft the case, so I put on the GPS:

    “Hey Siri,” I said, “directions to the airport.” My daughter was aghast.

    “How long have you lived here?” she demanded.

    “8 years.”

    “And you still don’t know the way to the airport?”

    I thought about that. I do know the general direction and if I had lots of time, I would eventually get there. However, when I have a passenger, particularly one in a hurry, I get anxious and completely distracted, particularly if we get deep in conversation. I once drove to the next town over under that very circumstance. (Yes, I also turn down the radio if I’m in nerve-wracking, freeway traffic.)

    It could be age, the fact I don’t drive to the airport much or my sometimes-faulty sense of direction. But science says it’s actually a result of my ‘cognitive offloading.’ That is, my brain has grown used to offloading certain tasks to technology. While it can free one up to pursue more creative tasks, it can also make you kind of stupid if you’re not careful. I happily offload phone numbers to my iPhone. Why waste brain space for mere numbers?

    Whether or not I turn on the correct street does not affect my self-worth one iota. However, I would never ‘offload’ my writing to AI as it has yet to capture my voice and I take personal pride in my work. Also, I used to fret when I recognized someone but couldn’t recall their name. It was embarrassing. Not anymore. Turns out there’s nothing wrong with me. So, if you’re a name-forgetter like me, check this out!

    For the record, I rode in one, self-driving Waymo, once. (Yes, I kept my foot on the brake and gripped the door handle hard the whole ride.) I would have done so twice, but that second Waymo flew right past me because I was standing on the wrong side of the street. (It’s a bit short-sighted.) So, my friends, offload when you can and off-road if you dare. Just don’t turn the driving over to your pup—not quite yet.

  • STRAIGHTEN UP AND FLY RIGHT!

    When I was a kid, my grandmother often said, “Straighten up and fly right!” It meant pull your shoulders back and act proud to be who you are. When I was a teenager and she said it, I came up with this flippant reply: “People don’t fly. So, I don’t need to straighten up!” If only I had known how important posture would be as I aged. Truth is that how you hold yourself is how you see yourself.

    When a client enters my office it’s the first thing I notice. Older clients are often slumped and it’s not just time that has worn them down. They are so used to being ignored they ignore themselves. They do it in small steps. It starts with that slump–a drawing in to their shell–perhaps so they won’t be bumped and jostled by all those young people rushing past them. Even their voice gets softer, not just because it’s worn out, but because there’s no real reason to raise it anymore. Who’s listening?

    Recently, I’ve taken on many folks over 50. Most feel ignored and obsolete. Some complain about their kids forgetting them or losing their purpose or feeling invisible. As I encourage them to advocate for themselves and ‘stand tall’, it occurs to me that I’m older than all of my clients. Yes, ALL of them! Somehow, this fact hasn’t occurred to them. Perhaps because I’m invisible, too?

    At the market this morning, an old woman shuffled ahead of me. She had the slump. As she tentatively moved towards the heavy, glass door, she was estimating if she could pull that door open before a fellow coming towards her from the other side got there first. She hesitated. He flew straight through it and would have flattened her had she not paused. In fact, he didn’t even SEE her! Quickly, I grabbed the door. “Oh, thank you dear,” she smiled. As she continued, I noticed she was standing straighter.

    It reminded me to do the same. Often, I sing the words to “Straighten Up and Fly Right,” and snap my fingers when I lift my carriage. So, do yourself a favor this summer morning and enjoy Nat King Cole here. His singing harkens to a time long forgotten that will never come again.

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