The Other Side of Eighty

Life-long learner. Sense of humour. Curious. Compassionate. These are characteristics shared by two important women in my life, Sharon and Pat, who I admire and regard as mentors. I am always open to new topics for blog posts and encourage Ageless Possibilities subscribers to send me their ideas. Ella sent me a link to a Facebook post that she thought would make an interesting subject to write about. The post read, “I asked a friend who has crossed seventy and is heading towards eighty what sorts of changes she is feeling."

I reached out to Sharon and Pat, both on the other side of eighty, and asked them that same question.

Finding comfort and meaning in spirituality.

I love the word octogenarian, Sharon shares. What a great word - it’s the rhythm of the word. It puts a smile on my face! And then I stop and think, oh, I’m almost 81, how did that happen? And you know, I don’t know how long I will live, all I know is the distance is shorter and more complicated.

What sort of changes am I feeling in myself? I continue to find a lot of comfort and meaning in my spirituality. I FaceTime with my sister every week. We each pull a card from an oracle card deck. This is an ancient practice that offers guidance, a practice my sister and I have shared for years.

My spiritual abilities have gotten stronger and are very accessible. These days I speak these learnings more readily, offering them to those open to listening.

I am learning strategies to cope with my physical challenges, and the aches and pains of aging. I do my exercises - sometimes! I stay active.

I find my world getting smaller. I have always been a quiet person; now I am even more so. I watch TV. I listen to audiobooks. I am still drawn to mysteries!

These days, I socialize with a small circle of close friends. We go for coffee or a slow walk. They know of my mobility issues and are accommodating. I know the importance of these connections now that I am eldering. I said that to my doctor the other day. He replied, what a great word! And he wrote it down.

There are so many wonderful people living here in my housing co-op. I love running into neighbours. We watch out for each other. I feel safe. I want this to be my last home.

I am worried about dementia. I am still in charge of my own world, but I can see the cracks. At the self-serve checkout the other day, I couldn’t remember my phone number. It was only for a second or two, but it brought up some anxiety.

I am very close to my family and friends. I have a lot of people who love me and care for me. I see a lot of joy in the future. I have always been a positive person, and I still am.

Humour is the key to most problems.

What sort of changes am I feeling in myself? I am no longer aging, says Pat, I am aged. I can’t walk quickly, I ache, and I tire easily. I have been changing slowly these last few years. This has caught me by surprise! Only recently have I realized that I am an old woman. Some changes have been funny, some subtle, and others discouraging and hard to accept. Learning not to suddenly sneeze, cough or laugh boisterously has been interesting.

I am slow. So slow. Accepting that it takes me a week to do something that used to take a day is hard to believe.

Traveling the world I have met so many kind and generous people. So many times, help has arrived, unasked. This gives me hope.

My mantra has become does it really matter? And it never really does. I have learned to shrug and say allora, which translates into whatever. Self or society-imposed rules don’t apply most of the time. I have learned to say NO without adding any explanations. My lifetime is unknown and precious.

Gardening continues to be one of the joys of my life. Nothing like getting down and dirty, smelling the earth, planting the seeds. My husband drove up, got out of his truck the other day and said, “Do we have a new gnome in our garden?” Not so funny – I had been sitting there for an hour because I could not get up!

I am learning to graciously accept my limitations; I can still walk, garden, and travel - with some adjustments. New venues continue to open – art, forest bathing, and writing. I have learned about bugs, biodiversity, and trees. My writing class has prompted me to look at the past, reflect, dig deep and write about my life. My cousin and close friends make me laugh and we have great adventures. Priceless.

At this age, death is a constant. I have a very hard time with death. I don’t know if I want to be buried or cremated. I have informed my children that I have hired a taxidermist. They will each get me for four months of the year. I shall be sitting with my index finger pointed out. Think what a conversational piece I will be.

Advice from the other side of eighty.

Can I be honest with you? If you had told me a few years ago that I would one day be seeking the words of women in their eighties, I probably would have laughed. What did I have in common with these women? But, as Pat shares, age creeps up on you slowly! As I continue rowing north I read essays by Abigail Thomas in Still Life At Eighty: The Next Interesting Thing and from May Sarton’s book, At Eighty-Two: A Journal. I love fiction featuring older women. I pay attention when older women speak. I am learning the ageless possibilities of living beyond eighty from women far wiser than me, including Sharon and Pat.