Think of your real age…then think about how old you feel. Write about why the age you feel is older, younger, or the same as your real age.
My real age…yeah, I have spent the past couple of years trying not to think about my age. It keeps popping into my mind anyway. In fact, it’s like I relate everything around me to my age. I see something on television and think about when I first saw it–what year it came out. It’s always like 15 or 20 years ago, too, which just reinforces my angst about it.
We’re supposed to want to live a long time, right? But nobody mentioned that we’re going to have all these memories of being a lot younger and how those days are really long gone and not coming back. My birthday last year, it occurred to me that this is the youngest I’m going to be from now on. And it wasn’t “young,” by any stretch.
Getting older is not supposed to be bad; obsessing over “being old” is. My sister tells me to stop talking about it all the time. I think she believes it gives power to the idea, and it consumes a person. She might be right. It’s a tough thing to stop, though, kind of an addiction. I’m watching my child grow from a baby to a young woman right in front of me, and all I can think is, “I miss when she was little.” She’s great now, really terrific, and when she was a baby it was tough. I was exhausted all the time and hardly knew what I was doing half the time. Maybe that’s the good thing about memory–I remember the easy, fun parts.
Either way, though, I’m never going to be younger than 46 again. That part of my life has passed. I guess the issue is, no matter what the age, what am I going to do with whatever remains.