I am a great fan of Joan Didion, author of such delicacies as A Book of Common
Prayer, We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live, and her latest, Blue Nights. I envy her facility with language, but I do not envy her life.
In Blue Nights, the memoir of her daughter's life and death, Didion writes: "Aging and its evidence remain life's most predictable events, yet they also remain matters we prefer to leave unmentioned, unexplored: I have watched tears flood the eyes of grown women, loved women, women of talent and accomplishment, for no reason other than that a small child in the room, more often an adored niece or nephew, has just described them as "wrinkly" or asked how old they are."
Didion's life and work exists in the surreal world of movies, television, and the theatre. She writes for every venue, and her personal and social lives are filled with talented people who depend on their appearance, either wholly or in part, to earn a living and to maintain status among colleagues and friends. Because of this, matters of aging do indeed remain unexplored in her world, unless it is to share the name of a good plastic surgeon or internist.
In my world, it is the opposite. Matters of aging are explored daily. I find myself savoring the results of successful aging, and pitying those who are aging unsuccessfully.
What is unsuccessful aging? It is the practice of denying the inevitable. It is the person who continues to eat unwisely, smoke, drink to excess, or eschews exercise. It is the person who avoids developing close ties with family and friends, and it is the person who refuses to realize that sometime soon they will need care. It is the person who avoids doctors until forced to face their own cancer, heart disease, diabetes, COPD, or other chronic disease. It is the person who, finally, centers their life around disease.
In my "final five" in the workplace, I encounter these people occasionally. They still need to work so they have medical insurance, yet they are no longer productive and engaged. Sometimes it isn't the worker, it's the worker's spouse, child, or significant other whose disease rules their life. Everyone in the workplace is forced to adapt, even though someone else's unsuccessful aging is not really their problem.
What is successful aging? Mostly, it's keeping family ties strong and building new community ties that will provide support as you need it. Successful aging is accepting the inevitability of chronic disease, poor health, decreased mobility, and planning ahead for the problems as they arise. It's also doing everything you reasonably can to be healthy: exercising, eating wisely, annual wellness visits, stopping smoking and excessive drinking, and avoiding stress. Successful aging is making the most with what you have, no matter how little it is, and being happy with your life.
Not everyone can age successfully, but everyone can try. Plan for the inevitable. Be certain that your future is the best you can make it. And be kind to those of us in the "final five." A good attitude is the best start for successful aging.
Prayer, We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live, and her latest, Blue Nights. I envy her facility with language, but I do not envy her life.
In Blue Nights, the memoir of her daughter's life and death, Didion writes: "Aging and its evidence remain life's most predictable events, yet they also remain matters we prefer to leave unmentioned, unexplored: I have watched tears flood the eyes of grown women, loved women, women of talent and accomplishment, for no reason other than that a small child in the room, more often an adored niece or nephew, has just described them as "wrinkly" or asked how old they are."
Didion's life and work exists in the surreal world of movies, television, and the theatre. She writes for every venue, and her personal and social lives are filled with talented people who depend on their appearance, either wholly or in part, to earn a living and to maintain status among colleagues and friends. Because of this, matters of aging do indeed remain unexplored in her world, unless it is to share the name of a good plastic surgeon or internist.
In my world, it is the opposite. Matters of aging are explored daily. I find myself savoring the results of successful aging, and pitying those who are aging unsuccessfully.
What is unsuccessful aging? It is the practice of denying the inevitable. It is the person who continues to eat unwisely, smoke, drink to excess, or eschews exercise. It is the person who avoids developing close ties with family and friends, and it is the person who refuses to realize that sometime soon they will need care. It is the person who avoids doctors until forced to face their own cancer, heart disease, diabetes, COPD, or other chronic disease. It is the person who, finally, centers their life around disease.
In my "final five" in the workplace, I encounter these people occasionally. They still need to work so they have medical insurance, yet they are no longer productive and engaged. Sometimes it isn't the worker, it's the worker's spouse, child, or significant other whose disease rules their life. Everyone in the workplace is forced to adapt, even though someone else's unsuccessful aging is not really their problem.
What is successful aging? Mostly, it's keeping family ties strong and building new community ties that will provide support as you need it. Successful aging is accepting the inevitability of chronic disease, poor health, decreased mobility, and planning ahead for the problems as they arise. It's also doing everything you reasonably can to be healthy: exercising, eating wisely, annual wellness visits, stopping smoking and excessive drinking, and avoiding stress. Successful aging is making the most with what you have, no matter how little it is, and being happy with your life.
Not everyone can age successfully, but everyone can try. Plan for the inevitable. Be certain that your future is the best you can make it. And be kind to those of us in the "final five." A good attitude is the best start for successful aging.
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