It’s Hell Getting Old

Standard

I make a lot of jokes about getting old, and most of the time they are just that – jokes. But lately, I find myself finding a little truth underneath the silliness and the sarcasm and the self deprecation. I can remember as a child my great grandmother (who we called Nana) saying, “It’s hell getting old” and I never really understood what she meant. As I got older, I decided that she must be talking about the aches and pains of getting older. I can understand that. While I’m not yet ancient, I’ve reached the age where although I can still do certain things in my mind (like back walkovers and roller skating backwards and reverse 1-1/2s off the 3 meter board), when it comes to reality I can just forget it. And I know what it feels like to be tired, and to have an aching back, and to wake up in the morning with injuries incurred while sleeping. Obviously, that is what she was talking about, right?

But now that I am a little older than when I decided that was the explanation, I realize that wasn’t it at all. Sure – the physical aches and pains can be a real bitch, but hell? No, that’s something else.

Though beautiful and wonderful, it’s hell to watch your kids grow up. To watch them lose every little bit of that baby you carried and held and nursed. It’s hell to not be able to instantly picture their baby faces in your mind. It’s hell to realize you aren’t perfect in their eyes anymore. It’s hell to think about them leaving home and going where you can’t protect them. It’s hell knowing that your time with them is short.

It’s hell watching your parent age. Not just get older, but get old. It’s beautiful to be old enough to see past your differences and remember when they were perfect in your eyes, but hell to watch them change into something else. It’s hell to see your friends lose their parents and to know that someday you will too. It’s wonderful if you still have your parents to lean on, but hell to realize that soon they will be leaning on you. It’s hell to wonder who you will lean on then. It’s hell knowing that your time with them is short.

It’s hell when you hear about an old friend or classmate with cancer or heart disease or diabetes and realize you’ve gone from feeling shocked because he or she is too young to be affected by something like that to feeling sad and upset and outraged because it’s so unfair, but no longer shocked. It’s hell to lose friends. It’s hell knowing that your time with them is short.

It’s hell when you find yourself occasionally giving your age and then finding yourself for even a brief instance thinking, “Wait, am I 42? Or is it 43?” It’s hell to feel like your life is flying by too fast and you can’t find the brakes. It’s hell to panic because you have so much left to do, but less time than think you need. It’s hell to suddenly feel mortal. It’s hell knowing that your time is always too short.

You were right, Nana. It is hell getting old.

Advertisements

About sugarmag

Forty-sdjhfkjsdhfkjsdh year old mom of 2 - a 18 year old boy and a 11 year old girl. I love them very much, but they drive me crazy. I'm married and work full-time. I'm not sure which of these is the most exhausting, but probably the husband. I'm opinionated. I'm outspoken. I'm loud. I'm an over-sharer. I think Tom Cruise is a jackass. I like to say jackass. I like to swear, period. Fuckers. I love to read. I struggle with my weight. I love my job. I dress my pets up and ridicule them regularly. I am not afraid to cut my hair and I don't understand people who are. I hate getting old. I love to laugh. Make me laugh, OK?

5 responses »

  1. Okay. I'm officially depressed. lol You're right. It is hell. I was smacked in the face with it this winter when my Dad, my strong and always able Daddy, couldn't help with the snow clean up because he's getting old. It scares me to loose him. I'm too young for it! HUGS!

  2. I agree with you 100% on this whole post. I swear, the second I turned 40, I started falling the hell apart. I, too, find ways to hurt myself in my sleep, laying wrong on my wrist, or back or neck.I think I can run outside and play ball with my nephews, but within 5 minutes, my arm is hanging low. And that's IF I can throw at all. I think I have damaged ligaments in my shoulder.When the hell did I get so goddamned fragile??Grossly unfair…

  3. I agree with the "sleep injury" part. That's a bitch!The hell part? I didn't know either until the last year or so. It is hell.Now, how old am I? I hate to do the math.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s