I'm too old for this

Dominique Browning wrote a piece for the New York Times titled, "I'm too old for this." It resonated. Not just the first part of the article about the deterioration of our looks at 60, but mostly the latter part of the article on the freedom to ditch old baggage and suffocating expectations. She was finally going to be herself. The idea of living light and right always perks me up. Then my family intervened.

And the rains came.

I'm not "chatty." When I do talk, I talk too loud. I think too deep. I care too much. In writing, particularly on Facebook, where developing thoughts should never be written lest a misunderstanding occur, I write them, hoping for a connection, or someone on the receiving end to help me grab my thinking and move forward. I always intend to be meaningful, and most of the time caring (except for incidents where hate speech is involved- but that is a different topic for another time).

Apparently, I should just shut up. Basically, that's what I think I'll do.

How does this jibe with the, "I'm too old for this" freedom we are supposed to have at a certain age? It doesn't, at least not if you care at all about what others think, which is basically the point of the article.

You shouldn't care. And I do. I do a lot.

 

Looking for a clear view

I worry about this because it means my development is stunted, and I'll never be free. I believe in my heart I've done the right thing. But, I'm shamed. I retreat and apologize. Then feel awful, because I've reconstructed the incident to be what I'm told it was. But, it wasn't. At least for me.

Not that many months ago, I sat with one of my mentors in Sri Lanka sharing lunch. He spoke about his attempts to not speak negatively. But, he said that whenever he opened his mouth, judgments came out. His answer was to meditate and be mute.

I'm with him. And I wish others would come along.

Putting my head back in alignment with my spine where it belongs and other midlife issues

Canon Beach, Oregon

I remember my Godmother Win as a very religious woman that would introduce any missive with a bible verse. Her favorite verse was, "This is the day the Lord hath made, let us rejoice and be glad in it." Most of the time I can do this. But, lately "rejoicing" has not been in the cards due to an almost constant pain in my neck.

I thought that this pain in my neck was from sitting at the computer too long and progressed from multiple Ibuprofen a day, to Naproxin and in the last few weeks to narcotics. My doctor thought the neck pain was from muscle spasms and ordered a muscle relaxant and a wicked (on my stomach) arthritis medication. The whole multiple pill regimen had bummed me out because, hey, I'm the healthy jointed and muscled person in the family, and have been relatively pain free for most of my life, other than a headache here and there. The only up-side was that I was losing weight. When you're in pain you aren't hungry.

Long story short: I requested physical therapy, have gone twice, and have been diagnosed with a dowagers hump, which is the classic hump back profile you see on very old women from Eastern Europe, which is caused by a disruption in the C 5, 6 and 7 vertebrae. Mine is caused by my unnatural slumping posture and probable degenerative disk disease in the C 5 and 6 vertebrae. The "treatment" for this hump is a head exercise to force me to bring my head back in alignment with my spine. I am very motivated because 1) I do not like to hurt despite the meds they give me, and 2) I am too young to be a dowager.

I might be exercising too much because I'm very sore and home from work for the second day today, but at least I'm rejoicing because this can be "fixed," I'm told, with hard work. And that I can do, hard work that is.

I now find out that the guys in my house have noticed this "hump" for years (which is at present a huge size due to being filled with fluid) and have never told me about it because they said I'd be insulted and cry, which was probably right.

So, damn my sensitivity and vanity. I really have to get rid of those things, along with the extra pounds I'm dropping.

Orange Beach, AL