On Being Old 9: Sharing stories and responses

I enjoy writing these columns and sharing some of what many of us go through as we get older. Some of it is just about life story, being honest about these struggles, daring to speak up about it and not feel ashamed.

Growing old shouldn’t shame us. Yeah, I know, sometimes I can’t help it. I’m embarrassed when I can’t do something I used to. I hate asking for help for something I feel I should be able to do. I feel bad when I’m gimping like and old person through the grocery store – especially when I see someone who looks older than I zipping up and down the aisles. It’s humiliating if I’m standing in one spot (like at the checkout) and struggling not to grimace in pain. I don’t want people to see me like that… but it’s part of life. We should not be ashamed. We do the best we can.

It is an honor to have others appreciate my writings. I am grateful for the nice comments I’ve received along with suggested topics.

One reader wrote, “Gratitude gets me through the tough spots.” She sent the following random quotes and thoughts on aging:

“Dear old world, you are very lovely and I’m glad to be alive in you.” – L.M. Montgomery

“Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it. Control of one’s life is only an illusion. Only with accepting the present can we experience relief from negative thought.” – Eckhart Tolle

“There is no death only a change of worlds. The spirit stays alive and wanders about the beautiful places of earth which they loved in their life. The spirits often visit their loved ones to console, comfort or guide them. We are but one thread withing the web of life. Whatever he/she does to the web, he/she does to himself/herself.” – Chief Seattle

“Let us cherish and love old age; for it is full of pleasure, if one knows how to use it.” – Seneca

Sometimes, someone else’s words, while not exactly telling us what to do, offers some insight. Sometimes, their words remind us to slow down and remember it’s all part of life’s process. We can whine about it or just get on with life the best we can. (Sometimes, too, though, the whining can help a little by getting those feelings out.)

While things for me might not be exactly as you experience, there may be enough similarities to remind us we are not alone. And, too, age may not even be a real factor. After all, when does one start feeling old? There are enough differences that some start feeling old at 50 while others are still dancing in their 90s.

What’s important to me is that by being able to openly talk, I can sometimes figure things out for myself. Or some small return comment may give me an “Aha!” moment. Sometimes a comment about a struggle may find someone offering to help or giving a suggestion which helps me take that next step. And, perhaps, a comment I make may give someone else comfort.

More on Sharing Life Story about Dealing with Depression

Once more, in writing my morning pages, I hit on something that drives me to turn to the computer to write what I’d like to share.

I was writing about sharing my depression stories. I know, many people don’t want to hear it. Some people can’t handle listening to these types of issues. Some don’t want to know a friend or family member is having problems. Some believe it’s up to the person to handle it by herself or get professional help.

I’ve heard all the usual comments – all along the lines of “Let it go, get over it.” “Grow a pair…” (Well, I’m not usually told that one, but I’ve heard it said a lot.) The ones I keep telling myself are: “Put your boots on and get to work,” and “Pull up your big girl panties and get to work!”

Whenever I hear those types of comments, it tells me the one I’ve talked to doesn’t want to hear it. It doesn’t mean they don’t care about me. It just means what I happen to talk about isn’t a topic in their wheelhouse. And, I also know, one person’s sadness can easily bring another person down. So, in reality, there are few people to be totally open with. (And with my writing, people can choose to read… or not.)

I don’t expect anyone to solve my problems (unless someday I could come up with a personal assistant to handle things I don’t want to, ha-ha.) I don’t expect anyone to do anything for me (except maybe to just say, “I hear you. I understand.”) I just need to speak and write. That’s my way of getting frustration out of me.

What I realized today, is that by my speaking of my anguish, it’s almost like I’m tossing the issues out of me. I’m cleaning my inner well, so to speak. It’s not to put burden on anyone. It’s getting it out of me!

Yes, I talk to Great Spirit, God, Divine Presence, Mum, whatever good spirit might listen, which is good, but there’s something about telling another human being that takes it to another level. Maybe it’s because, as humans, we all go through crap. Some handle it better. Others struggle.

I also believe this is something along the lines of being witnessed. In the telling, it’s like I’m not so all alone in dealing with issues – even though the bottom line is I am the only one who can solve my problems, and I know that. However, just knowing some other person has heard me, makes me feel better. It’s like letting a breath of fresh air inside me… I can even feel Light in my inner soul.

It’s also important to remember balance. For every supposedly bad or sad thing, there is something to feel joy about – even if it’s just the snow’s melting or the sun is shining today or Tuli is being lovable. 

Sharing Life Stories to Release Depression

Today is one of those days where, by writing about my woes and wondering about life lessons, I had an instance where “something” came through to me. This something doesn’t happen often, but when it does, gladness fills my heart and I feel a reinvigorated.

I have no real name for it and have called it many things: Great Spirit, God, Divine Presence, Spirit Guides, Creative Muses. Maybe someday I’ll know the who, but it usually doesn’t feel like it comes from any one spirit or from any one particular place. Suddenly, I’m just being filled, and I know it’s some kind of message.

“Pain shared is pain halved." Out of the blue, that quote came to me as I sat here in tears while writing about my current depression. It was more than just a thought; it was like the words were spoken directly to me. A simple quote, then the “presence” was gone leaving my mind brimming with words to expand on that phrase and my current emotional state.

Wow, I’d been depressed most the day yesterday and all last night! The whole thing with the scamming and thievery, which is escalating every day, and no one can seem to do anything about it, has put me on the ledge. The sword is getting too heavy to bear. (Is this another aspect of growing old?)

So, I was sitting here worrying about my computer. I'm afraid to do anything, look up anything on Google, FB, place any orders, etc. I’m even hesitant to send emails. Plus, I hate that I can't answer my phone -- I must get two-four scam calls daily.

Lately, I’ve forgotten what it is like to be happy. The negative outweighs the positive by a lot these days. Then I thought about what does make me happy. My only shining lights are a couple of awesome friends, kitties Tuli and Leo, my writing and my painting. (Writing that last line makes me see there is a lot that makes me happy.) However, the dark clouds keep closing in more and more.

And I don't want to have to keep bothering anyone with my woes. So, having that quote come to me lifted me. Came to me as I needed to hear it, I guess... and then I thought: I don't want anyone to have to share even half my pain. And yet, it is this very thing that I feel is one of my purposes in life -- not that I do it a lot -- but it's that anyone can tell me their darkest story and I will listen without judgement and only offer what simple words of wisdom I might have without making them feel they’re wrong by telling. 

For some of us, there are times when a story needs to be told over and over before we can finally let it go or be OK about it. It's about processing our experiences in life. It's a sharing and being witnessed. It's not about having someone "save" us or tell us what to do; it's just being listened to with compassion.

As I’m working on yesterday’s morning pages, and going over how everything seems to go wrong and wondering about the lesson, I thought: What if the lesson is that by my openly talking about my depression, others dealing with similar feelings might not feel so alone?

The sharing can open the door to light. Sometimes, someone else’s words can show us something about ourselves we weren’t acknowledging. Sometimes, having someone else see/hear us and not condemn us for thinking sad thoughts is all we need to put our boots back on and get to work.

The last thing (and something I fear) is always sounding like a woe-is-me person. I just have to balance the writing/talking about the sadness with something positive – like today I wrote a beautiful poem, or I made progress on a painting, or I discovered such and such, or Tuli and/or Leo…

Today, I am happy to have made a breakthrough emotionally. I’ve gained a better understanding of who I am and why.

 

Emotional Self Defense Part 2

This is what stirred in me on Saturday 

Again, writing morning pages, stuff deep inside stirs as I write about Friday.

This morning, I’m hitting on how I feel like all my pulling away from people is to protect myself. I first realized this is what I was doing when Mum was declining and clinging to me. However, now that I’m thinking about this, I’ve been doing this for a long, long time now and not realizing what it was. (And now I wonder, too, if this is what Mum did… in the end, there was only her and I.)

Of course, an old-friend’s words echo back to me as she’d always say, “It’s all about me.” She started that when that term started became popular, but with her saying it, I knew it was a put-down on me and how she felt about me. (She’s always been some kind of a do-gooder, but that’s not who I am. Oh, I want to be good. I’m just not personally into being… drat, I don’t have the words here… one of those… well, I just call them save-the-world-do-gooders, those who run to others’ sides to help them.

The bottom line is it IS all about me! I’ve had to protect myself from a young age my entire life. (Though I never realized that was what I was doing.) Maybe that’s what’s made me what I am, how I am, and who I am.

I’ve never vocally or physically fought back or argued. I’ve never told her how her snide comments made me feel less than and unworthy. I’ve never been able to outwardly defend myself. I just built inner walls and hid… and in many aspects, at least in physical company with others, the walls are getting thicker. I only have a couple people I feel I can be totally safe and open with.

And yes, I do feel guilty about that, but there’s something inside me that creates a volcanic, emotional, overwhelming… fear/anxiety... that makes all my walls come crashing down. I just can’t… go to funerals or do other of those kinds of supports, for instance. And yet, someone can sit one on one with me and tell me their darkest secrets, and I can handle that. How weird.                                               

Maybe it’s because all my life I’ve had to stand strong on some things because I felt so put-down-upon on so much. The few times I’ve tried to put myself out there with groups have been complete failures. I am the odd duck and not a sheep. I don’t fit in with the herds… and don’t want to. 

I’m not calling others wrong. They have the right to their beliefs. I just can’t do and/or participate when my entire being is screaming no. Pulling back and isolating is the only thing I can do to not bend to others’ wills when everything inside me is rebelling. I can’t live to others’ expectations.

Yeah, I’m still trying to figure it out. Maybe part of me always felt… how do I describe it… there’s just been something inside me that slams inner doors shut when I don’t feel safe. So, I need to alienate myself to protect that individualism, my uniqueness.

I’m still learning about it. Is it being selfish? But we don’t all have to be the same. Why do I have to be in the wrong just because I don’t want to be like others?

My mind is whirling around… there’s some kind of a breakthrough close, but I’m not there yet…

Lessons from the Past

The past few days, my morning pages have been interrupted by inner emotional ramblings and I feel I'm reaching a bit of a breakthrough in self understanding. 

The past helps make us who we are and what we are. Yes, there are still choices, but getting a better understanding of the past can help us move past any old hurts. Being able to talk about things to one another helps us also understand one another. That doesn’t mean we have to agree or like, but the stories help in understanding and with understanding comes better tolerance and acceptance.

And yes, there are times when we have to let go the past to move on. Sometimes, though, issues resurface, and when they do, what are the lessons to learn?

When the past pops up, which can drop me back into some extremely unhappy times, I also know I’m on the verge of a breakthrough. I still haven’t quite grasped it yet, but it’s close to my fingertips. I’m understanding myself better which in turn opens me to better understand others. (Too bad I am in my late years when coming to these realizations, ha-ha.)

But maybe that’s part of what wisdom is all about. I am able to release old grudges and hurts because I now have that wisdom of life to help me see how the past has made me who I am, and to accept this is who I am. This is nothing to be ashamed of or feel guilty about. We were not all made to be sheep. If we were, we’d all have preprogrammed robot brains.

The big thing is in recognizing that I have never been a follower, a sheep, part of the herd. Every time I’ve tried, I end up in a crash and burn. There’s always been something inside me that rebelled and refused to jump on popular bandwagons or buckle down to others telling me what I should be doing. That feeling can turn almost into a physical reaction when I’m being pushed towards something my inner being is rebelling against.

And, of course, that has caused tremendous inner anguish, especially when I was much younger and couldn’t fit in with my peers. There has always been some super strong conviction that makes me feel sick when I’m being forced to do or can’t agree to something. Which doesn’t mean it’s wrong, it’s just not right for me.

Unfortunately, those feelings and inner reactions often put me on the outskirts and makes me a loner, never fully belonging to anything. But, every time I sit here in tears over one thing or another, I know there’s something I’m learning.

And what keeps coming forth strongly is: It is OK to me! I don’t have be like everyone else. I don’t have to be a sheep. It’s OK to celebrate being an odd duck and thinking for myself.

When I think thusly, a content sense of something greater settles over me filling me with an inner peace and telling me I AM OK being me.