Awakenings to My Age

 

Winter berries. Missouri. December 2006. Credit: Mzuriana.

These people are old

Some years back, at an offsite work event, I sat at a round table with women and men who worked in the same large organization as I did, but in different offices. I looked around at my tablemates, most with shimmers of gray in their hair, and the start of crinkling skin and softening jaw lines, and I thought, "Everyone at this table is older." 

..... and in the next moment, this lightning bolt struck me: "Oh my God. I'm about the same age as they are. Jesus." 

Ew! I am not going to date my father!

There was a phase I passed through, as I surveyed potential matches on an online dating site, when I flipped through profile after profile of prospects in my age cohort, that I felt visceral reactions: "Oh my gosh, they look as old as my father! No, no, no!"

It took awhile to understand that my brain was encased in a cocoon of magical thinking. For one, the men didn't even look as old as my father did when he was well into his 70s. They looked the same age as the mental fixed-image I had of my father when he was in his early sixties, probably even younger. Second, I had an internal image of my own self that was younger than I was in reality. Third, I was (am?) just as ageist as many of us. 

It wasn't only the superficial appearance of a prospect in my cohort that I grappled with; it was the fear that the older a man was, the greater the statistical likelihood that he has (or will have, imminently) one of the myriad medical issues visited upon us with age. (As if I were immune to the same.)

I had to change out my mental model of what my "market" looked like. It was neither quick nor easy to accomplish this. 

I also gained more empathy toward men who sought a younger woman. Because they were probably as aghast as I in the beginning: "I'm not going to date my mother!" (And, culturally, they can attract younger women, for a variety of reasons, and they can do so without receiving the smirks that women do when they are with younger men.)

Other people are old

In one of my past lives, I worked with a government agency that has a focus on older adults. I met with  numerous women and men who were in their 70s and older. At that time, I was in my late 40s or early 50s. 

Without exception, every one of the agency's 65+- year old stakeholders I met with referred to others as older or elderly. They never self-identified as old. 

From my position on the age continuum, the distinction intrigued me. But apparently, this is a common phenomenon. 

I remember being on a hike with a group of my women friends, perhaps 15 years ago. One of my friends would have been about the age I am today. We encountered a family on the trail, which included a boy of 10 or so, and his mother. I think he had become somewhat separated from his mom. She called out to him about his precise whereabouts, and he responded to her loudly, so she could hear him, "I'm behind the old lady!" referring to my friend. 

I was deeply shocked. I wondered if my friend had heard this remark. If she had heard it, I wondered how she felt about it. But I never even asked her, because if she hadn't heard it, I would not have wanted her to learn of it. And if she had heard it, I didn't want to remind her of it. The boy, of course, meant no harm. He was just using my friend's outward appearance, in relation to himself, as an easy identifier for his mom. ... And here I am, being ageist yet again because being called "old lady" is evidently so egregious that ... it is somehow too shameful to discuss? 

I find that, now that I'm in my 60s, I have the same sort of thinking as the stakeholders in that government agency. I have not awakened to being old. I am OK with being older. 

But once I hit 70, I think the alarm will go off for sure, right? 

That doesn't mean I'll be willing to disclose my age then. I remember my maternal grandmother telling me one day: "I never wanted to divulge my age. But now that I've turned 80, I want to." 

For now, I'm going to continue to hit the snooze button.