Eighties are Weighty

A New Wrinkle in Growing Older

Celebrating my 88^th birthday with family and friends in Denver was life-changing. Being honored as the Elder of the family makes me feel ten feet tall! But the elevated stature put a new wrinkle in my self-image labeled ‘Eighties are Weighty.’  Not weighty as in depressing, but weighty because time is short and it’s daunting to deal with the bottom-line issues of our lives.

At seventy I wanted to tackle goals left unfinished years earlier, to identify essential qualities to guide me through the years ahead, and to find new challenges.

 First on my bucket list was becoming a bat mitzvah.  It’s the ticket to enter the adult community of Judaism. However, when I was thirteen, girls were not permitted that privilege. At seventy, the challenge of reading from the Hebrew Torah almost defeated me. But I did it and finally took my place as a full member of the Jewish community.

Now, reaching eighty-eight and still active and healthy, my question is, what now? As you can see, I’m dealing with the issues that plague me by writing. The computer has become my canvas to explore what I want to accomplish in the remaining years.  I find myself writing and rewriting sentences until I get a large “YES” from my soul self.

Initially, I found myself listening more than participating. In previous years, I offered my opinion even if it wasn’t invited.  Now, I wait and listen, observe body language, and facial expressions, and check the quality of the vibes—the energy between people. By that time, the conversation is over and there is no need for my contribution. It’s humbling, but I learn more by observing than I ever did from getting involved in the crossfire.   I call it listening louder. 

Understanding the process of listening has become an obsession. My first book, Write Your Self Well…Journal Your Self to Health, is about learning to listen to yourself—to the internal joys, fears, and trauma of our lives. Clinical trials verify that expressive writing—journaling about emotional issues–relieves stress and speeds the healing process. It was a preface to my next work, an intergenerational picture book, Granny Greeny Says Listen Louder.

Granny is the result of years of coaching interpersonal communication in hospitals and healthcare facilities. I recognized that patients responded positively to staff members who communicated with them directly and demonstrated caring behaviors.  Research later confirmed that blood pressure, stress, and recovery time are reduced, the immune system is strengthened, and relationships improve when patients feel safe with the people treating them. It all came down to positive energy created by healthy communication between the staff and the patients. It’s the vibes!

Nearing the end of my journey, a series of questions are still unanswered. What have I accomplished? What haven’t I done that I still want to do? What do I consider a life well lived?  Am I walking my talk? Am I listening louder? What is my legacy? Have I let go of judgments and my overbearing take-charge approach?

And what about listening inside to my spiritual self? That’s harder. For the past several years, I’ve been spending time in prayer and meditation. I focus on listening through my heart and try to quiet the distracting voice of my inner critic.  It’s frustrating and difficult, but it is exposing me to the quality of my energy.  As a result, I’ve slowed down, don’t rush from place to place, stopped interrupting, and ask a lot more questions.

Not much is written about what to expect in our 80s and 90s except that they have been called The Wisdom Years. I assume that means that we should share our accumulated knowledge and experience. Some researchers say that a part of our brain is growing larger to accommodate the additional knowledge acquired in living 30+ additional years. Others feel that elders in the later decades become more in touch spiritually. On that score, I agree.

There are relationships I’d like to strengthen in the years that remain. I’d like more time with my granddaughters, my family, and with my closest friend. Intimacy has become increasingly important and comforting.

We have a busy life. My husband and I are socially active and involved in community organizations.  My Substack postings share nine years of writing about aging for Montana Women’s Magazine. My husband is writing his memoir and hosts a Montana Public Radio show – “You Must Remember This,” Songs of the Great American Songbook, and we still travel. In short, life is good. 

What do I wish for?

I’d like not to have to worry about outliving our money.  I’d like us to stay healthy until the very end of our lives. Suffering is something I’m not good at!  And I’d like to leave my writing to those who come after me in some tangible form. That’s what these posts are about.

What physical changes am I experiencing at eighty-eight? 

First, I’m learning to accept limitations.  I’m clumsy at times.  My breath is shorter.  My body certainly doesn’t look like it did at fifty. Gravity is having its way with me, so wrinkles keep multiplying at an accelerated rate. Even with these changes, I am blessed with good genes that last longer than most. But our physical activities are limited. No more hikes up Big Mountain or downhill skiing. I’m exercising—not enough—still eating too much and drinking vodka more than occasionally.

My greatest difficulty is losing words. Because my mother suffered from Alzheimer’s Disease, it’s frustrating when they come back too late to make my point, and that’s never soon enough.

My eighties have become a process of examining my life through beginner’s eyes that bring a fresh perspective. Playing the blame game by making others responsible for my disappointments, mistakes, and screw-ups is fading away. I’m left standing alone with my life choices and their consequences.

Lastly, being closer to the end of life certainly encourages me to think more about dying. I want to die with dignity, without fear, in charge of my decisions, with an alert mind, and surrounded by a loving support system to send me on my way. 

Let’s not forget joy. Celebrating our 80s began eight years ago on my husband’s birthday, six months before mine.  We created a plan to honor our lives and each other all year long with parties, traveling, and enjoying our time together, with our children, grandchildren, and friends. And we are still at it.

            Let the party continue and the music play on!