Growing Old Gracefully in the Twilight Zone by Carol Martin-Sperry
On the morning of my 78th birthday I was lying in my bubble bath listening to my Spotify playlist. Sixties soul, Motown and Bob Dylan singing the story of my life. Being the age I am now means I saw them all perform. The greats: The Beatles, the Stones and Bob Dylan when he first went electric to boos and jeers. My morning bath is an absolute essential part of my wellbeing, a warm place of transition, reflection and planning.
So it was then that I realised I probably had only ten years of useful life ahead of me. I had better make the most of it. What was important to me apart from family and friends? Travel, 20th century art, literature.
My education was French at the Lycee Francais de Londres and I took a French degree afterwards. As a result I am rational and analytic, intellectual and articulate. I am also responsible and reliable, pragmatic, and well organised. I am a social extrovert, quick thinking and adaptable.
Working as a psychotherapist for 35 years, I have developed a good sense of boundaries. I am focussed and conscientious. I am never late. Like a lot of us, this led me to serious burn out in my mid-sixties at the same time as, after skiing for 50 years, I had to give up due to safety concerns. I felt that, for the first time, I had to slow down. Not just on the slopes, but in my life. It was painful but I learned a lot. Now I watch big wave surfing on YouTube. I have learned to pace myself.
I have travelled extensively all my life, and I am not done yet. I lived in Paris for a year with a rock musician, I found myself alone for two weeks in Buenos Aires and Rio de Janeiro (and, not speaking a word of Spanish and Portuguese, that was an adventure). I have visited several Latin American countries since. I have been stood up by an AirBnB host during a rainy Friday night in New York City. This is all to say, travel has made me resilient and enterprising, so I continue to do it. Recently I visited Colombia, which took me to the edge of my comfort zone and I am already booked for the Day of the Dead in Oaxaca. I have always wanted to go to Ibiza so I have booked a yoga retreat there. People tell me I’m lucky to travel so much, but really - all you need is a passport and a ticket. Perhaps an attitude and a bit of mental strength.
I find art inspiring and mood enhancing. So I go to all the major exhibitions in London, visit Paris twice a year and read for at least 20 minutes every day (while on my exercise bike, which is so boring I end up reading 25 pages each time). I have just been to New York and visited five museums and eight galleries in five days, which almost took me to the limits of my stamina but was worth it. I am re-reading the works of the great Russian authors, Tolstoy, Chekhov and Dostoevsky. Being older I am finding different perspectives and depths in these meaningful classics, giving me much to think about. You never stop learning. Art is always worth the effort.
I thought I would lose weight by continuing to exercise but I didn’t. I was a perfect size 10 until the menopause and now I have to look for the Large label on clothes, which I still, somehow, find humiliating. But that’s not who I am or what’s defining me. If I really delve into who I am, it would be this:
I still wear bikinis because I love the feel of the sun and sea on my skin. I love my clothes and I dress according to the events of the day. I have virtually given up wearing trousers, too much faff around the waist and between the legs. I only wear a bra when the occasion demands it. But I wear make-up every day and lipstick if I am going out. This is about self-esteem. Yes, I am quite vain. If I am very stressed I watch "Say yes to the dress”. I have very blue eyes. I wore contact lenses for 40 years, then I had laser and cataract surgery. I am, apparently, borderline for driving so will need glasses again. I became very stroppy and unreasonable and declared I would never wear glasses. But I am no longer a self-conscious teenager so I apologised and started looking at frames. I have beautiful hair with natural silver streaks. I am often told I look much younger than my age, which I know to be true because I feel that way.But sometimes I feel my age: I am weary, too much has happened in my life, I am full up.Meanwhile, I run a supervision group for the staff of a refugee charity and I volunteer two afternoons a week at a charity shop on the Portobello Road.
Am I deluding myself about these characteristics? I hope not. As I grow older I realise that I am quite lazy. I try not to commit to more than one major event in the day, preferably nothing before 11.00. My SAD increases with age, so I don’t go out after 4.00 in the winter because of the dark. Ideally I would spend November to February in a warm sunlit country. I fancy Brazil one day, maybe.
I am more cautious. I was definitely not cautious in my youth; at the age of 22 I sold my mother’s jewels and flew the Atlantic to be with a boy I had known for less than 24 hours. A year before, I had been skiing in Cervinia, Italy and saw a boy that I was instantly attracted to, an instructor. We never spoke. In a quick-stop 24 hour visit to Montreal the following year, I was introduced to a French man, he asked where I normally skied and I mentioned Cervinia, he said he was an instructor there. I stared at him. He was the one I had seen. Lightning struck and I was in love for the rest of my life. It was the start of an amazing adventure across two continents which lasted on and off for twelve years. Until we both got married to other people and I didn’t see him for fifteen years. He came back into my life when I was 53 and we met up over the next eight years. Sadly, he died of cancer at age 61. We were older and wiser and we made the most of it, despite many complications. I am lucky to have found and decided to live such an intense and strong love.
Nowadays, I try to practise self-care (hence my daily baths). I try to find one positive thing each day (sometimes I fail). I get annoyed and frustrated by little things (I can be critical). I am impatient (and very bad at queueing). My IT skills are not great (I type with one finger).
I have written my will, my advance directive, my power of attorney and my funeral instructions, I am ready to go. I no longer search for the meaning of life. All I can say is that I know nothing. It’s one day at a time. I try to be present in the now, aware, authentic and connected to the ones I love.
My only advice is to keep breathing.