My name is Megan. I have a lot of ideas but don't find enough opportunities to express them and listen to what others have to say. I get frustrated when I read articles and the comments that ensue because I feel like I can't really add my own two cents. It is rare you actually find a good, respectful dialogue in those comments.

So this is my attempt to share my own thoughts and opinions based on what others have said. I love reading or hearing the thoughts of others, and this is not an attempt to correct them or change anyone's mind. I just want to put my own feelings out there.

Sunday, March 4, 2018

Getting Old

Background

A year ago today I turned thirty.

On the morning of my 30th birthday I was running late. My 6-year-old daughter, 2-year-old son and I were some of the last to arrive at a family gathering. My harp was set up in the corner, and everyone was waiting on me. I tuned a fraction of the 46 strings hoping it would sound okay and sat down to play a song I hadn't had a chance to practice. It had been 12 years since my last harp lesson. I played a simple song nervously, imperfectly. While I played, my family members said their last goodbyes to my grandma.

Many of my family members were kind enough to remember that the day was my birthday. I didn't mind spending the day celebrating the life of someone else. I've had plenty of birthdays. Over the last year I have wondered if I would have felt differently about turning 30 if I had been able to spend the day like normal people spend birthdays. I feel like 30 is the first birthday that you say to yourself "wow, I'm not young anymore." I know a lot of people that have struggled to leave their twenties. Some people celebrate the next 30-40 years by declaring that they are "29 again" annually.

I didn't even have a chance to dread the day. About two weeks prior, my mother-in-law was scheduled to be discharged from the hospital to a rehab facility. She had fought a brave battle with cancer that was newly diagnosed in early January. Before that, we were convinced she would live into her late nineties. We thought we had 35+ years to spend with her. After the shock of her illness, we were relieved she was finally on the mend.

Instead, two days later I was on a plane with my husband to be with her as she slipped away from us.

Our world was turned upside down, and everything else had to be put on hold. Nothing I tried to do came easy. I was 17 weeks pregnant and exhausted. My husband went straight to his hometown after losing his mom, and I came home to get the kids and head out to meet him. It felt like some dark force was intent on making the situation as close to hell as possible. Finding flights took hours and hours. I had to squeeze in a shift at work. None of us had appropriate clothes to wear to the funeral. And it was lonely not being able to spend that time with my husband and his family. It all seemed surreal. While dealing seemingly millions of menial tasks, I was also grieving for the reason they needed to be done.

I couldn't have made it through that time period without the help of many, many people. While I was gone I also got the news of my grandmother's passing. I arrived home the day before her funeral.

And so my 30th birthday came and went. Over the last year I have wondered how I would have felt about turning 30 if I had the opportunity to dread it and experience the day like normal people. It has made me contemplate growing old. Here I am with being silly with my kids in our funeral black one year ago:

If you are me, then you might notice a few extra lines by my eyes. It is strange watching myself begin to show signs of aging. Sometimes I feel the need to hide pictures of myself that I think show too many lines. It's natural for me to have that inclination in our culture. But I've started questioning the obsession we have with youth.

On this blog I usually find online articles and posts, and give my reaction to the articles as well as the comments they generate. This time my thoughts were provoked by a portion of the book "Tuesday's with Morrie" by Mitch Albom. I listened to the audiobook and appreciated some of the comments about growing old.

Summary

"Tuesday's with Morrie" is a book written by a student about his professor. The student, Mitch, spends a lot of time with his professor, Morrie. They work together often during college, but drift apart after graduation. About 15 years later, Morrie is diagnosed with ALS, and Mitch finds out during the later stages of the disease. For about three months until Morrie passes away, Mitch flies back to visit his old professor every Tuesday. They discuss topics that everyone can relate to such as love, happiness, marriage, and aging.

Morrie says that he doesn't buy that being young is so great. He has noticed that young people tend to have lots of problems, they feel inadequate, and they're often miserable. He adds that "the young are not so wise. They have very little understanding about life. Who wants to live every day when you don't know what's going on?" He acknowledges that aging does include decay, but it also gives a person growth. There are things to gain from aging that you simply can't attain any other way.


He says that people who are in a satisfying, fulfilling place in their lives can come to an understanding and acceptance that they will die one day. And instead of despairing, it causes them to live more fully. He points out that people who try to fight aging are engaging in a losing battle. Once you learn to embrace your life and choose to live it fully, you only want to go forward. Going back becomes undesirable in favor of the things you look forward to learning and doing.

My Two Cents

Morrie's perspective made me think about my former self. I'm old enough now to be able to think about who I used to be. When I think about myself as a high school kid, I think of a girl who wanted to do the right thing. I wanted to be a good person. And at the time, I thought I did a pretty good job. But now when I look back, I see that I was often judgmental. I could be very self-righteous. It was easy for me to say unkind things about others. I had a low tolerance for others' mistakes. It is interesting to look back and see how much I missed the mark even though I really was trying.

Now I think of myself as someone who wants to do the right thing. I try and include everyone without judgment. I try much harder to only say kind things about others.  But I have a feeling when I reach 40, I'll be able to look back and see that I still had a long way to go. As I was thinking about all this, I decided it is kind of an exciting prospect to see what I can become. Maybe a few wrinkles and saggy skin aren't so bad. Maybe it is a small price to pay for the wisdom and growth that comes with it.

But growing old shouldn't be just an individual thing. I'm lucky enough that I get to share my life with a wonderful family. My husband and children bring joy into my days. There is a romantic notion about finding a person you can grow old with. I wonder how often we really think about the actual process that takes place between the "I do" and the little old couple that holds hands by the fireplace. Maybe if we think a little more about the people around us, learning with and taking care of our family and friends, we can find more reasons to enjoy this journey. Maybe marriages could be stronger as we learn how to change together and embrace that change. Maybe we would be better parents if we learn things for ourselves as we help our children grow instead of living vicariously through their youth. And maybe all of us could forget about trying to stay young if we focus more on each other and the things we are learning together.

I want to find a way to be happy about getting older. Sometimes I think I'm okay with it, and other times I really struggle and feel scared about how I will handle myself as my body withers. Now I am wondering if there is some kind of symbolism in the fact that my 30th was all about death. Maybe those events can help me realize the importance of being grateful for what I have now and enjoying every day, instead of dwelling in the past and trying to relive it.

Another 9 years and I'll be 40. Then I probably won't think that 30 was so old. I just hope I'll be able to say that I am looking forward to 50. Perhaps by then, a my youthful 30-year-old self won't seem so appealing compared to the wiser, happier person I'm becoming.