May 19, 2021
Getting older sure is not for
the faint of heart. The pains and the aches that attack me as I move about each
day have been an ongoing thing since, well, I can’t actually recall when I wasn’t
aching. Pain comes, pain goes, and I adapt. Some days I take only one dose of
pain meds, and some days I take the maximum my doctor allows. I never take more
than I absolutely need, so that’s something, at least.
The writing is much as it has
ever been, if perhaps a bit slower. I have a new book coming out on the 28th
of this month, and it is my 66th title for my publisher. I manage
somehow to produce this essay each week. I will confess that there are times
when I wonder if the words I write in this medium, when strung together to form
the essay, make any sense. But mostly I think I’m able to get my message
across.
The area where aging has been
taking its toll on me is when it comes to that whole “juggling” thing that we
humans tend to do—or in my case lately, try to do.
There was a time, not all that
long ago, when I could handle two or three or more things happening
concurrently. In other words, I could have several balls in the air at one
time. I’d be in the middle of writing something, or doing something, and would
get a phone call about something else. I’d make a note and then, in the midst
of following that trail, one or two other things would arise. I’d smoothly and
with no difficulty whatsoever add each item in turn to my mental to-do list,
and then, with great aptitude, and not a little finesse, deal with everything
on my overflowing plate. One after the other after the next. Boom, boom, boom boom,
done.
Now? Not so much.
I find any more that if I get
interrupted—if I am asked to handle something else, or something comes up, I
don’t feel as if I can be as calm as I used to be with being side-tracked. It’s
almost as if I have a little A.D.D. happening here. I get things done, but I
suppose the great difference I’m referring to is that I don’t feel as if
I am getting things done, or that I’m giving the original task in question my
best effort, because I was sidetracked. At a time in my life when I suspect
that getting the job done should bring me a greater sense of accomplishment
than at any time previous in my life, it gives me less.
I was “zooming” with two
author friends in the course of our Tuesday writing-sprint routine, and then I
got a phone call. I’m currently “power-of-attorney” for a family member, and I
knew by looking at the call display that this call was about that person. I had
to mute my zoom, and also my sound. I didn’t care that my fellow authors could still
see me on the phone, but maybe I should have cared? Anyway, I was distracted by
the call, and it took me a little time to settle, once the call was concluded.
I made a quick note about the call but it did take me a few minutes to get back
into the mindset I needed to be able to focus on the zoom meeting.
I understand, of course, that it’s
normal that some changes come with age. And most of the time, I’m fine with
that. I can’t clean my entire house in two and a half hours anymore, the way I
could twenty years ago. I sit more often than I used to when I’m busy doing
things around the house. And while I understand everything that happens around
me, I do find that some little things just don’t seem to matter so much
anymore.
As I am composing this essay,
an image inserts itself in my mind. I imagine myself like a hot-air balloon, once
held in place by a dozen or more strong mooring lines, secure in my place and
comfortable in my range of motion. And
then the older I get, I notice that with each passing year, some of those lines
are, one by one, giving way.
As I said, getting older is
not for the faint of heart. On the other hand it is, if we’re lucky enough to
keep living, inevitable.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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