Physically,
the photograph I have of me-as-a-young-woman is lovely;
interestingly, perhaps like
many young women, I now see, she had no idea just
HOW beautiful she was. That realisation took about fifty years to
percolate through and by then the potential power of it had waned or
perhaps, disappeared. Not that I did not comprehend that the beauty I
had, brought with it sexual potency and the constant feeling of
entitlement to attention; it was more that I wasn't interested in
exploring the extent of that power. I just took for granted all the
easy, effortless attention I received in the street, restaurants,
buses, meetings, work, play, parties, dances, Life. NOW I do notice
the lack of attention I receive, the lack of physical interest I
arouse, and have come to terms years ago with the fact that at almost
82, these pleasantries cannot be expected. However the invisibility
of the old does concern me, in particular, of course, My
Own Invisibility! It encompasses and reinforces the general view in society, of the
relative unimportance of the aged, acknowledging their declining powers, of
their lowly status, less equal to the rest in the citadel of Life,
more languishing, somehow reduced, in the cellars; of their
comparative worthlessness in the population balance sheet. I long to
shout, and wave my temporary crutches, that the pretty girl is still
there, swathed in sag and wrinkle perhaps, but still attractive in a
certain kind of way and infinitely more interesting and
well-informed than her younger self. The foot may be arthritic but
the mind still works and the optimism and desire for fun are the same
though the necessary energy is reduced. Not one of the many, many
younger people who pass me in the street every day without a glance,
could believe that I still regard myself as a sexy, attractive,
beguiling woman. The response, if they heard that, would be
disbelief, incredulity, hilarity. However, their responses would cut
no ice with me; I know who and what I am and I have confidence in who
and what I am!
Which
leads me on to the sunnier aspects of ageing, the greener uplands
beckoning. Confidence and belief in self are strong; an almost
complete disinterest in the judgement of me by others is there with a
keen interest in events and people around me locally and in the further
world. My expectation that people behave well, in spite of evidence
to the contrary, bolsters my own self-regard and security, and
contributes to my general sense of well being and optimism about the
future. Gone are the ambitions of a previous professional life;
replaced by more modest hopes of things I want to do or achieve or
places I want to visit. I see my family relatively rarely but I feel
in touch through emails and Face-time and intermittent visits, and
through my family, I love and feel loved. I have few friends now
where I live but left behind many where I lived in Kent for over
thirty years and the latter, or some of them, keep in touch with news
and memories. The friends here are becoming more special and perhaps
increasing in number! And from them, and the kindly, day to day
recognition and friendliness from local neighbours, owners and waiters in several
cafes and restaurants and shops, comes a sense of belonging and a
quiet mutual appreciation, providing beneficial reassurance that, in
small ways, I matter and I belong. And it is the small ways that
really do count now; the grander needs and gestures are long gone, no
longer needed. The old become interested in the essentials of life.
The fact that I have voluntarily and cheerfully uprooted myself to live in another country, in another language, with other customs and norms, surprises some but not me. It is a tiny bit adventurous, a little psychologically daring, simply because there was no imperative externally so to do. I thought I would have a little adventure and gratifyingly, I find I have. And equally gratifyingly, not only is my life more fun, more challenging, more satisfying than my former, much-loved and much-enjoyed life, by chance, not by design, I find I am keeping the brain exercised and the body in reasonable shape [for my age!] Must comment that these parentheses are now so often implied; by doctors ['You're doing well (for your age)]; acquaintances and friends, [You're looking good [(for your age!)]; museum staff etc. But I am amused by, and rather like, all of that. They are scraps from the Top Table both well intentioned; and well-received!
As
I may have mentioned [repetition can be a hazard!]I know who I
am now; I am burdened with neither false modesty nor excessive
arrogance. I know my limitations and my possibilities; I know that I
can deal in a mature way with death, grief, sadness, regret. I know
that I chiefly lack the capacity for envy and grudge and that my
greed is modest and governable. I know that I live effortlessly in
the present and take pleasure sometimes in remembrance of times past,
or with others, in events from our shared history, or in a sudden
idea for a future holiday or visit. I think I hardly need the
approval of others but when it comes, it is a beautiful surprise and
a reassurance I didn't know I needed. I do need other people; though I choose to live alone,
I need to be with others at times, outside home, surrounded by others
or at least in contact with others. Equally I need to be alone, with
my thoughts, books, pictures, computer, terrace, familiar
possessions, all of which provide nurture and delight. In the
last few weeks, seven so far, I have spent the vast majority of the
time, alone in my flat, and the pleasure experienced has been
immensely enriching. Just to be, to read, to write, to look around,
to sit, in a space that has become so dear to me, has reminded me of
how very lucky I am. It is quite possible that living in the here and
now, so beloved in counselling and therapy, has happened for me
almost by chance; at least, almost without conscious intention. Just
following one's instinct and expecting the best, seems to work! 