How I’m Exploring Being Older
“Without structure, there is chaos.” — Anonymous
My wife died from dementia in 2012. My experience as her caregiver was a million-dollar experience that I wouldn’t take $1 million to repeat. Meaning that, while the experience was exhausting, almost crushing, now I feel like the phoenix risen from the flames. I’m a much-improved Barry with a clearer sense of what’s important. I’m more relaxed, more present, and enjoying life more.
Barry2 is having a good time. As the terminally ill sometimes note, facing death is a wake-up to not just live more in the moment, but to learn who you truly are.
For me, part of that means doing things I enjoy, that feel good. Another piece is wrapping up the loose ends of my life, looking into those little corners I’ve avoided, poking through accumulated baggage, and seeking previously hidden opportunities for more self-awareness, relations, and intimacy.
Eight places where I explore this end-of-life stage. Writing this blog is one ①. I’ve also joined a group called Age Song Marin ② that meets weekly for 90 minutes. The eight members, in our senior years and from quite different backgrounds, discuss age-related topics.
Another venue is my non-literary “Salon” ③. We are four long-term peers, now friends, who for the past two years have met for a two-hour monthly meeting to discuss our current time of life. Our similar backgrounds in counseling and consulting foster a sharing that is more internally focused compared to the Age Song group. In the “Salon” we discuss our immediate personal experience.
One Salon member, whom I have known for over 30 years, suggested the self-exploration that I’m focused on in this blog is possibly not a do-it-alone-activity and might be more effective with professional help. His suggestion resonated. Now I meet weekly with a psychotherapist ④ to discuss what I’ve shoved under the carpet. What are these knots, their origins, and what, if anything, might I choose to do with them?
Many people employ a psychotherapist because something is blocking them from getting on with their life. In my case, the aim is to expand and enrich this end-of-life stage. This therapist is feeling more and more like a trusted friend, saying what needs to be said, asking questions I might not realize are there but need reflection. I’m pleased and will keep you informed on developments.
There’s one more group ⑤. We are five long-term friends who’ve met monthly over dinner for 30 years discussing, “What have you done lately and what are you planning?” As we’ve moved together through the decades, there’s been a gradual shift to age-related topics. Perhaps that’s the most natural evolution. Aging seems to bring reflection and introspection.
Let me add to these formal groups my everyday conversations ⑥ with friends and family that bring many new ideas and insights. Add a thick layer of related articles and books ⑦. Finally, top it all off with a three-times-a-week swim ⑧, where I do some of my best pull-it-all-together thinking.
Intimacy is not a thinking thing, it’s a doing thing.
One area I’m using this structure to explore is intimacy. It involves vulnerability, openness, and sharing. It’s something I’m learning to notice and practice whenever I meet or talk with someone. Initially, being deliberately intimate was unfamiliar. I sometimes feel a little strange deliberately putting aside the background noise of invasive thoughts so I can focus just on the moment, the immediate conversation, our here-and-now relationship. Intimacy is now one of my most enjoyable activities.
I’ve always felt most comfortable with children. I’m consciously taking that same comfort level to adults, and not just those I know well. I feel a warm glow smiling at a stranger on a hiking trail or nodding and smiling to a somewhat familiar face at the gym. I think that also is intimacy. It’s self-reinforcing because most people like the invitation and reply with a smile. Sprinkling intimacy is fun.
I’m looking for a new life partner who is open to similar exploration — particularly of our intimacy together. Does that sound exciting? It is for me. I hope it’s a realistic expectation and not just a delusion. Marin County, where I live, has a long tradition of self-exploration — remember the 1970s hot tubs and peacock feathers? I’m hoping the odds are that my search will succeed.
So that’s where I am today. That’s most of the structure that helps me reflect on my remaining years, this personal 70andOlder journey.
Thank you for reading along with me. As always, I’d appreciate and value your thoughts and experiences. Do you have some special ways or places where you reflect on this stage of your life?
me, Barry Phegan
