It all seems so unfair. All my life, I have desired straight hair. I was born with, not totally curly, and not totally wavy, hair. Most of the time it is an unruly mess, a mix of curl and wave sticking out all over the place. But now I do have straight hair. The only problem is, it’s coming out my chin!
Somehow, I know without knowing how I know, this is part of the ageing process. And as I allow myself to think about this, a prickle of fear ripples around my heart space. My mortality taunts and I feel frightened. I grab the tweezers and furiously work to safeguard my permanence on the planet.
On the inside, I still feel all the ages I have been. My ‘wild child’ roars as much today as it did over sixty years ago. Probably more so. But not many people see the ‘wild’ these days. What they see is more of a thesaurus – wearing out, crumbling, declining, fading, waning, deteriorating -. just a few of the synonyms describing ageing on Thesaurus.com. On the outside, I have been reduced to a synonym. On the inside I want to ‘go a-wandering, with a knapsack on my back’, middle finger raised.
A few years have disappeared since I noticed my first chin hair, but my anxiety and dread around ageing still heckles. I am someone who has spent a long time learning to love my ‘true self’. But now I find myself surreptitiously stalking Google for information regarding face-lifts and eyelid lifting surgery.
‘A clean nude nail polish gives a more youthful appearance’, says one description. It takes a ton of willpower to stop myself hurtling out the door to the nearest supplier.
Feelings are for feeling,’ says Glennon Doyle in her latest book, Untamed.
“Feeling all your feelings is hard, but that’s what they’re for. Feelings are for feeling. All of them. Even the hard ones.”
Simple but powerful words. And I’ve been working on this lately – trying to feel ALL my feels, enter into them, embrace them and express them truthfully. Especially my fears and feelings around becoming old and dying. My list of worries looks something like this:
- Friends dying
- Family dying
- Me dying
- Fear of faculties going and becoming infirm
- Being a drag on family
- Vanity – my body and looks deteriorating
- Losing my usefulness in society
- Regrets and guilts
- A certain amount of angst over not realising how short life is and having wasted much of it living to society and patriarchal agendas.
Last week I met up with a girlfriend for coffee. When she asked me how I was, I decided to take the plunge and reply truthfully. Instead of giving my standard stock reply of, ‘I’m good thanks,’ I said,
“I feel I am quickly passing my ‘use-by’ date and this scares the hell out of me,” I spent the next few minutes unloading feelings, some of which I didn’t know I had until I started speaking them out loud.
At the end, my friend said, “Oh my goodness, me too, that’s exactly how I am feeling.”
The anxiety and dread that accompanies ageing isn’t openly discussed very often, especially among women. Plenty of tips about ageing well regarding looks and activity, but deep conversations, what it feels like on the inside, are sadly lacking. Being able to speak my deepest fears felt liberating. I was learning a valuable lesson about my true-self. True self-love, says tinybuddah.com, is valid at any age; there’s no expiration date to that.
Getting older does not magically make you wiser. The old adage, ‘Age begets wisdom’ is a little misleading. There is more truth to ‘Age begets wrinkles’ than any sort of wisdom. However, getting older does allow for more life experiences, hence opportunities, for acquiring understanding. I would like to think I am using some of this wisdom as I traverse my ageing process. I read somewhere that if f you want to grow old happily, it’s better to face fears of ageing sooner, not later. This doesn’t mean going into battle with them; embrace them rather than battle them. I find myself doing this often. It makes them a hell of a lot less scary and anxiety-ridden.
To some people, I may be just a synonym, but my truth is, I am more than just my body. My noisy unfettered spirit refuses to be put in a box, tamed or labelled. So for now, and for as long as I can, I’m off a-wandering, middle finger raised.