56 Up: The Doper Version

In My Humble Opinion
1

With the new version of the long-running series now airing on British TV, I thought I’d take the opportunity for Dopers to post some brief summaries of their lives in 7 year intervals, starting at age 7 (assume it is your birthday specifically). Try to be as honest as possible: list recent achievements, marriages, divorces, deaths of parents or other close kin, but mainly focus on personality changes and evolutions of perspectives:

Age 7: I was still a bit optimistic (thanks mainly to my 1st grade teacher), but the hell to come (grades 2-6 when I became a totally bullied outcast, combined with some incompetent teachers) was close at hand. I would have come across as a bit shy, but pretty bright. After the first moon landing (a day after my 7th birthday), I would have undoubtedly talked a ton about space travel.

Age 14: By this time I had become a shy insecure emotional wreck-probably would have come across as a smart aleck in some ways as well, with a big chip on my shoulder (my confidence in the adults in my life to guide me was very low at this point).

Age 21: My absolute nadir-probably wouldn’t have been shy (having come out of my shell a bit) about venting about my despair and the philosophical aspects of same, or pontificating on the love that I had lost. Definitely would have come across as a lost soul.

Age 28: By now I had settled into taking a series of odd jobs-still had no ambition or direction, tho my depression had moderately abated by now. I would have remained pessimistic about life (and love-my teenage crush had married another guy at this point). My awakening was a mere year in the future however…

Age 35: Night and day. By this time I was in graduate school, having recently graduated with highest honors. Asked by Apted as to what had happened to completely right my ship, I would have simply replied that I had found myself, found my joy and direction, and that my moments in nature were the ones I most treasured and where I learned most of my lessons. At this point I wanted to be a conservation biologist, tho that would change too…

Age 42: Had shifted to a career in tutoring for four years at this point-I’ve always loved kids, and while I loved animals too, I simply don’t work well in big bureaucracies like the ones that typify major universities. Worked out pretty well by this point, was perfectly happy, had also found my birth family, which I get along great with. My dad had died 4 years earlier.

Age 49: By age 48 I had gotten into a bit of a rut-was still happy, but cynical about certain things (romantic relationships mainly), but as of my 49th birthday (July last year) I simply decided to let all of that go, and hit an even loftier high after doing a bunch of Buddhist-type work on myself. Also have 4 lovely nieces (and a jerk of a nephew, but I got over it and he can too).

2

I’ve never watched the series, but I’ve been aware of it since 21 Up.

Just copy the bolded part for me. I wanted to be a biologist, not an astronaut. I was a pretty cute, blue-eyed blond kid, maybe a little chubby.

Just the bolded part, again – my reaction to being bullied was not at all defiant. The two years of hell called “junior high” had knocked a lot of the stuffing out of me, and I had become one of those frustrating kids who “perform below their potential” – I was bright and performed well in class, but had completely abandoned homework, spent all my time reading, and was, in retrospect, pretty depressed much of the time. I was small for my age, had long hair that I didn’t wash properly, hadn’t quite gotten to puberty, and was still carrying a major load of baby fat.

Not me at all. I wandered a bit in the first years of college (JC), having acquired none of the discipline to do well, nor the wisdom to cut my losses. I left my home town at 20 to attend a JC near San Francisco, where I pulled my socks up considerably. At 21, I was close to transferring to Berkeley, and was mostly not depressed. In retrospect, I see that I was not only introverted, but existing on the ragged edge of the autism spectrum, and was socially retarded in ways that must have dismayed my parents, who already had a son with what is now recognizable as Asperger’s syndrome, but then was just “troubled.” I’d have come across as bright, cheerful, weird, and very, very immature. At least I was in better shape, though still under-muscled. My hair was down to my shoulders now, and a little darker.

I’m just going to stop quoting now. At 28, I was a few years into a job that used my education, sort of, and a few years into a real relationship. The breakup of both was a few years into the future, but I was a pretty happy camper at the time. Still long-haired, and now with a beard – very short, and made me actually look older and more distinguished (not that I looked distinguished, just less like a child). I was quite fit by this time, having started in with weight training a few years back.

At 35, the old job and another had gone by the wayside, and I was doing very well in a new one; was living with the woman I’d eventually marry; and was generally, very satisfied and optimistic. I weighed too much, but was nearing the top of my game, and looked it: still bearded, but with short hair, and brimming with confidence.

Age 42: The year the wheels came off. After the marriage, the house, the first kid, the aborted attempt at law school, and overcommitments of all kinds, the top of my game came and went. I had burned out a couple of years before, and depression hit with a vengeance: I fell behind at work, and clawed my way back, but everything was an effort. By 42, I wasn’t bonding with my son, had a little girl months before, had an affair, left my wife, and was clearly on the slide that would lose me my job in two more years. Full-blown midlife crisis. At least I lost 90 pounds that I really needed to lose. Shaved the beard, too.

Age 49: two months from now. I am not the man I was, and definitely not the man I want to be, but it’s gotten better. I have a job, finally (after losing that great job I mentioned earlier, just in time for the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression) where I am valued and make more money than I ever have. I am nonetheless dissatisfied – I had gotten used to having authority at my old job, and I am frustrated at not being able to change things that need it. I haven’t really done any dating since the affair and divorce, and I’m kind of afraid to get into anything. I’m financially rocky, and I fear I’ve gotten a bit weird in the isolation of not working and not dating for so long. I am volatile – I always was, but the last ten years have been characterized by a truly frightening temper that I mostly suppress – and I feel that I’ve retreated beyond introversion, and have gotten truly disengaged, socially. I don’t know if that would come across on film or not – I usually present myself well, and require long-term and intimate exposure to reveal my issues. I’ve gained back some weight, but still look OK in clothes. My skin, though a bit red and blotchy in spots, is mostly smooth and unlined, and I still have no grey hair, so I imagine I’ll look pretty good on camera.

3

I don’t remember how I was when I was a kid. I remember events and I remember what I was doing, but I don’t really remember my perspective on anything. Even when I look back on just fifteen years ago (when I was in college), I often draw a blank. If someone were to tell me I didn’t really become self-aware until–let’s say–last year, I’d wholeheartedly agree with them. That’s how transistory I feel in myself.

I don’t remember always feeling this way, though.

But I’ll try to contribute. I followed the series and found it really compelling television.

Age 7: Glimmers of personality started shining through. I identified as an artist–the best drawer in the 2nd grade class. I was also on the teachers’ radar as a misfit, but none of the kids had caught on yet and neither had I. I was a silly little thing who giggled and talked a lot in class–almost to the point of being disruptive. But privately, before school started every morning, I’d take a vow of silence…because it was during this year that I starting to believe that being small and invisible is much more noble and easier than being big and obvious. My vow would always be forgotten once I’d jump off the school bus, though.

Age 14: Personality very awkward and amorphous, fluctuating between easy-going affability and deep inwardness. I don’t remember how I identified myself…though I had an idea that I was different. I still liked to draw and brood artistically, but I was no longer confident enough in my abilities to call myself an artist. I didn’t know if I was smart or dumb or average because I had mixed messages thrown at me. I didn’t like socializing and being “nice”, but I would not have been able to articulate why. Avoidance and passive-aggressive behaviors were becoming entrenched. I liked my teachers, however, and I was eager to please them. Their kind gestures and familiarity towards me made me feel special…the good kind of special. This kind of “apartness” blotted out the negative feelings of isolation from my peer group. I do not remember feeling very bothered about being teased and harrassed in school.

Age 21: The beginning of my insane-in-the-membrane adulthood, but actually not very notable in itself. I can’t remember much from this year, but 21 is a milestone year. And I lacked plenty of milestones. Most 21-year-olds are no longer virginal and have had, at the very least, a crush on someone. I was and had not. Most 21-year-olds have friends and goals oriented towards career, family, possessions, and destinations. I had none. Most 21-year-olds are emotionally together enough not to flip out when little things go wrong. I wasn’t. Most 21-year-olds care about their physical appearance. I didn’t, apart from hygiene and the basics. But I presented as a normal human being on a superficial level. I was doing well in a very demanding academic environment. I had an impressive internship. I lived off-campus with my sister and had plenty of disposable income. And yet, my favorite activity was walking aimlessly through the city and dissociating. I’d talk to myself, thinking about experiments with my rotifers, thinking about the existence of God and trying to establish a connection, ruminating about nothingness. Then I’d magically wind up ten, eleven miles away from home. I knew my twin was dating and socializing; I felt ashamed that I lacked the desire to join her and guilty that I was holding her back. But it never dawned on me that I was anything other than just a little “quirky”. The description of depression never resonated with me–even after I’d learned all about it in abnormal psychology. Personality disorder? Only in a vaguest sense. I did wonder about anxiety, but decided for some reason that I didn’t have it. In retrospect, I think I did. But I also think it burned itself out after I graduated from college, only cropping up occasionally after that.

Age 28: Automaton. That’s the best way to describe myself. I was a working machine that lacked all desire, pain, plans, or self-awareness. I was most assuredly depressed–dysthymic. I was also fully and completely personality-disordered at this point, unconsciously operating on an “as-if” program and no doubt quite alexithymic too. But I wasn’t completely foregone–I knew something was off and in an unsustainable way. I sought out a physician who immediately pegged me as more than just “quirky”. Her intervention put me on the path of self-improvement that I’m on now.

Age 35: I will be 35 in July. I know I am smart and clever. I am an artist and an scientist, and I am glad to be both. I am often nice to people, capable of great kindness and compassion and adventure. I am a much better person than I was seven years ago because I know these things about myself, and I have improved in many other ways. Do I still struggle? Yes. I am aware that functional is not the same thing as healthy, and that just because I don’t feel sadness does not mean I’m not in a sad state. I still long to have dreams and to have the ability to believe in the future. I cannot imagine ever having a rich emotional life, one populated with a regular cast of people and desires, though I wish I could. Acceptance about myself and life comes and goes, depending on what I’m doing and who I have just talked to. But at least I can say I have never felt more self-aware and intentional in my existence. That is something.

4

Age 7- I had just moved- new city, new house, new school, new everything. I was making friends, though, with kids who lived in my neighborhood and went to my school. Most of those friendships were rather brief and contentious, as I was very sensitive and didn’t respond well to people who were mean or bossy, as many young kids are at times. I loved dance and gymnastics and hated other sports.

Age 14- I joined up here :slight_smile: I was struggling with all sorts of bullshit- anxiety, an eating disorder, lots of difficulty with my parents, my school, my friends, and so on. I did theatre and was still WAY into dance. I had quit gymnastics by then in favor of getting much more serious about dance. I worked at a nasty little Chinese restaurant where they treated everyone like shit, but knew my options for employment were limited until I was legally old enough to have a job, so I stuck it out for a while.

Age 21- Wow, that’s right now! Well, my dad is dead. I’m gay. I dropped out of college to take care of my partner who was a chronically ill heroin addict with a young son (mostly because somebody had to take care of the baby) and then had my family dismantled when my girl overdosed and our little boy was taken away. I work at a much nicer restaurant, still struggle a dlot with depression and anxiety but the eating disorder is more under control. I foster dogs and am thinking of going back to school. I don’t dance anymore.