Wait, who are they talking about?
Now wait a minute, just WAIT a minute!!
Underwent some annual medical tests today - always a “whoopee” event. I was told the results would show up in my electronic medical chart in several days. Nope, they popped up late this afternoon. Gulp. After some challenging health issues, every medical test scares me to some degree. OK, took a deep breath, told myself, if need be, I could contact my internist tomorrow. (Go, Jan, for your bravery!)
Normal! Yay! Exhaled and managed to read the results for THIS human specimen, a 70+ yr. old female…. 70+ ?! No! No way! Who the hell are they talking about? I felt as if I was looking over my shoulder for the 70+ year-old female identified in the online medical chart. Where? Where?!
Omigod, that’s me. I really felt stopped in my tracks. Lost sight of the great results and actually felt shocked, reading about myself described as a 70+ year-old. OK, OK my body creaks a bit more, with an occasional limp, and I’ll probably not run a 100-yard dash again in this lifetime, but THAT august age? No, no, no!
Such a feeling of internal dissonance. Clearly, I don’t perceive myself as, well, THAT age. OK, admittedly, my hair is (mostly) white, but still so naturally curly and cute. Thus sayeth the wonderful woman who’s been cutting my hair forever. (Wouldn’t you believe your long-time hair-stylist or barber? Heaven knows, after all the things you’ve shared over the years. It’s practically therapy.)
So, yes, I’m left with the query, “Is there a contradiction between how I perceive myself age-wise and the sheer reality of aging?” You ready for the big reveal? Hmmm, maybe more a medium-sized reveal. Aging is….well, aging. Ah, but the lens through which we perceive aging is of our own making. Period.
For the moment, no matter the age delineation noted in my, supposedly, all-knowing medical records, I will continue (within reason) to perceive myself as young in spirit and heart. And as long as I act my AGE… Whoa! Wrong choice of words! As long as I can be open-hearted and continue pitching my tent in the campground of compassion and self-compassion (hard, hard, hard, but worth it), yours truly will be happy with THAT age. (Wonder if S'mores are available in the aforementioned campground? No matter how old I am, I will always need treats!)