I’m 63 now and am surprised by how little I care what other people think of me. I lived and died by others’ opinion of me when I was a teenager and young adult, even into my early 40s. Now, I just don’t really care. My clothes are clean and presentable, I get regular haircuts, take a shower every day. I have lost all interest in fashion, shoes, jewelry, having my nails done, coloring my hair, getting a tan. Those seem so unimportant now. And not just since the pandemic isolation started.
The other thing that surprises me is how much I have come to love gardening and working in the dirt. I HATED it as a kid. Pulling weeds in the flowerbeds was the worst torture imaginable. Now I go out and pull weeds as a form a meditation.
For me, it is threading the needle of, “That’s something I want to do eventually. I’ll get around to that.” combined with, “Holy moly! I don’t think I can do that now!”
I suppose it was ever thus, no matter the age, but getting older it seems more acute. Now that I am retired (very recently) and have time (and supposedly money), there are all of these things that always rattled around in my brain’s to-do bucket. But, I just don’t feel up to it for much of it. I mean physically, mentally, emotionally.
I guess this happened 10 or so years ago (or that’s when I first seemed to notice it, btw I’m 35), but my hands turning into “adult hands.” They seem so big compared to when I was in high school and my ability to manipulate very tiny things has deteriorated because my fingers are too stubby.
Reminds me of when I was a kid and my dad often enlisted my small hands to perform some task for him.
I realized that you can reach a point where you have to give up caffeine, but I thought it was only to help you get to sleep. I had to give it up because it started making me feel like I had to pee right now, right now, right now, at odd times throughout the day.
I actually turn 48 today. I guess what’s unexpected is that I don’t really feel “old”. At least not any older than I felt at say, 38 or even 28 in many ways. I’ve always been in pretty good shape. But not like “high performance athlete” shape where I would suddenly notice a significant decline against younger top performers.
This. Coupled to it, it seems coffee seems to impart a much much more feeling of the urgency to urinate, far out of proportion to the actual amount of liquid taken in. I could drink a pint of water, or even beer, and I’ll have to go, eventually, but the feeling build slowly and then when I go, out comes ( nearly ) a pint. Drink an 8 ounce mug of coffee, less than 30 minutes later the urge to go is so intense I feel almost a stinging sensation about the bladder; subsequently relieving myself produces not enough to fill even a couple of those small plastic bathroom cups for mouth rinsing.
I feel the same way. I was a pretty good athlete in high-school. Varsity soccer, skiing, and just all around active shit like water-skiing and biking out to the lake. Then I hit college and put on a ton of weight. I never really shook it all, though I always remained active, skiing every winter playing soccer competitively every summer. At times I’ve been svelter and at times I’ve been heavier but it’s only since I gave up red meat (about 10 years ago) and alcohol (about 5 years ago) I’ve move the Everton Window of Health back to where it’s supposed to be.
I’m 55 now and I feel pretty good physically. Strong but not quite as limber or quick as I used to be. If I had taken better care of myself in my 30’s and 40’s I wonder if I would feel older than I feel now. But I’m your classic Peter Pan syndrome guy. My living room looks like a 16 year old lives here (TeeVee, sound bar, guitars, amps, keyboards, video games, a dog) and I’m currently rocking my, “no I don’t play in a Dead cover band” look.
It’s weird what starts to go though, flexibility in particular and maybe not even particularly noticeable. Until something happens.
One of my former bosses was a triathlete, not elite but a solid performer and quite dedicated to it. Always training on his weekends and just generally staying in shape and eating a restricted diet. One day in his mid-50’s he was cleaning out a closet and being a somewhat short man had to do a little hop up to grab a small box off a top shelf. He came down and ended up in bed for a week when something tweaked in his back. He didn’t even land badly. Just little hop, oww and oh shit.
Another one of my co-workers is also in his mid-50’s and generally in very good shape. But the last couple of years he’s been laughing about how every time one persistent joint pain fades away/heals up he develops a different one, almost like clockwork.
Myself, I keep hurting my shoulders by apparently sleeping on them funny . I’m starting to think getting older ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.
I’m the opposite on one aspect of the first point – I’ve always been near-sighted, but as I’ve aged, my long-distance vision has actually improved while my short-distance vision has remained as good as ever. I spend much or all of the day now not wearing glasses, except when driving. However, my eyes have become more sensitive to glare when driving at night. This has unfortunately coincided with the increasing prevalence of LED headlights, which have the blue-white glare of a thousand suns on oncoming cars. I think we oldsters should band together and petition for those damn things to be illegal! I have no problem with ordinary headlights on oncoming cars, but LED headlights are like staring into an electric welding torch. It’s a painfully unnatural glare.
But I fully agree with the other two points. I’m forgetful as all hell. I have a habit of either totally forgetting important things I need to take with me when I go out to the car, or remembering them as I prepare to go out and putting them down near the front door while I fiddle with keys and shoes, and then leaving them behind.
But I love your last paragraph! That’s me, exactly. Mentally, I still feel about 20. I’m basically a 20-year-old with an inexplicably deteriorating body. Also, like you, the only difference is a definite departure of any vestige of shyness. I happily chat with strangers, store clerks, and cashiers about all manner of things that might spontaneously spring to mind, and have not the least hesitation to make my displeasure known if I’m pissed off. So depending on circumstances, I might be regarded now as outgoing and congenial, or as an asshole, but rarely as “shy”. It’s an attitude that psychologists refer to as “not giving a shit any more”.
Yeah, I’ve been doing that every so often for a few years now.
Also recently discovered my flexibility is starting to go, but I’ve started working on that. You can stay flexible into old age, it’s just that in your 50’s (or earlier) you have to actually start doing maintenance on the skill.
At one time I stretched a lot before working out. Didn’t realize how much I actually needed to do that, so I gradually stopped except for a certain back stretch. But then I started to have problems with a muscle in my back that that stretch did not help. So just in the last week or so, I started doing all the other stretches. Also stomach crunches, that I’d also let lapse. Almost immediately, these things helped.
Speaking of muscle pains and flexibility, a few months ago I had bouts of lower back pain that at its worst made it hard to get out of bed and sometimes hard to get dressed. It went away, came back, and now seems to be gone for good. I attribute my cure to The Secret That Doctors Don’t Want You to Know™, viz: vast amounts of wine and supplements of vodka martinis. It really loosens up the ol’ muscles.
A few of us medical students were spending the afternoon with a British psychiatrist. The patient was saying he drank about four beers* each night before going to bed**. One of the students asked him if he was an alcoholic.*** The psychiatrist laughed and said the definition of an alcoholic was “a patient who drinks more than the doctor”. We didn’t ask how much the psychiatrist drank.
*: I’ve seen Canadians get into a fistfight arguing over whether the plural of beer was beer or beers. “It’s like deer.”
**: Cops and emergency doctors, in their minds, sometimes double the amount claimed. Cop friends tell me every drunk they see claims they had “a couple” beers. In retrospect, it is noticeable this psychiatrist did not further question the amount.
***: Most modern guidelines say men should drink fewer than 15 “drinks” a week (12 oz beer, 5 oz wine, 1 oz liquor = one “drink”). To be in the highest 10% of American drinkers you would need to drink two bottles of wine each day,
I never in a million years considered when I was in my teens, twenties or even thirties that I’d be taking care of my mom. Granted, she’s still mobile, still living on her own, has friends, etc. But the thought of having to make decisions for her - soon - scares the crap outta me. I thought I’d feel experienced and aged in my 40s, but I still find myself looking around, wondering where the adult is who should be helping make decisions about my kids’ lives and my mom’s health, then I remember it’s me and wonder why the heck anyone would want me to do that.
Also, I didn’t realize that I would hurt more when I don’t work out than when I do. And having to take care of my body is pure BS. It’s like I hit 40 and suddenly the doors fell off - my body decides to flip out when I eat unhealthy food, or keep me awake in agony when I don’t run or walk at least five times a week. Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m thin - no, my body also decided to make sure that losing weight is 10 times harder than it used to be.
Oh, well. I thought I’d feel older by now. I still feel like I’m in my teens or twenties, just need a more rigid routine.