By Natasha Josefowitz, ACSW, Ph.D.
LA JOLLA, California — I was walking down the street one day when I saw a large sign: “Body Shop.” I stopped and thought, “How interesting! Maybe I can get a new body instead of this 96-year-old one. My current body doesn’t see so well, hear so well, or walk as well. Maybe I can get one that does all these things better.” I walked in and asked, “What kind of bodies do you have?” They responded that they were an auto shop, where you could get an oil change, a tire alignment, or even exchange your car for a newer model. I asked if they could fix my body; they replied no, but they knew of a place that could. After they gave me the contact information, I was on my way.
Sure enough, the body shop they referred me to sells bodies, exchanging new ones for the one you have. I asked them how this worked. They told me that they take your old body (as in hologram) and give you a new one, which becomes permanent. They asked me what kind of body I was interested in. I said a 20-year-old model. They replied that they had a few options available. How wonderful! “What does it come with?” I asked. I was informed that it comes with a head, two arms and two legs. Then I inquired if I could get one without the head and keep my own. Unfortunately, the heads are included. I wanted to know if the new head could be unscrewed in order to keep my own. They replied: “No, it’s part of the body.” So I wanted to know, “What is inside this young head?” They answered: “Not much! It hasn’t been anywhere, read anything, or seen anything.” I worried that all my experiences would be lost… the relationships that I’ve been in, the trips I have taken, the thoughts I’ve had, the books I’ve read—all would be gone. That just didn’t feel right. Since I couldn’t get the new body and keep my head with all its memories, I decided to keep my old body with my head intact. After all, my head may still have some miles left.
Now that I’m stuck with this old body, I need a new philosophy of life. The reason for it is that I must minimize the constant urgency of having to make decisions; “Do I go or do I stay home?” That decision should not be made on an ad hoc basis, but as a way of living one’s life as one ages. I am not the same person who went everywhere, did everything, and met everyone. I am a new person with whom I am in the process of getting acquainted, one who prefers to stay in my recliner, read, write, or take a nap. Actually, I don’t take naps; naps take me. I don’t really know this new me very well, having never been this old before. She surprises me. In all candor, I am not sure I like her.
I always have a choice: whether to push myself to keep going as before — in order to avoid my world becoming narrower— or do I in fact enjoy the quiet time with less obligations, without responsibilities? If I do opt to accept the invitation to a dinner party, to give a talk, to go to a play, a concert, or a movie, I most likely will enjoy it. If I don’t accept, I am relieved that I didn’t go and relish being quiet at home. My favorite events are the ones that get cancelled.
So which side of me do I listen to? I am often tired and my level of energy is quickly depleted. As we grow older, we need to decide at which point we should accept a more circumscribed life. My suggestion to my younger friends is “as long as you can… go everywhere, do everything, explore while you are able to and then, when you’re older, you can elect to opt out because you’ve been there, done that, seen it and heard it. Life is forever calling loudly, but one does not always need to answer.
Old age is a privilege denied to a lot of people. It is a time in my life that I don’t want to miss. It is not uphill anymore, but over that hill with a lovely view with the best years yet to come.
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© Natasha Josefowitz. This article appeared initially in the La Jolla Village News. You may comment to natasha.josefowitz@sdjewishworld.com
Beautiful essay on acceptance of old age’s limitations.