Today’s Daily Post prompt asked us to write about age – I won’t duplicate the post here, you can check it out yourself if you’re interested here.
I read a few of the posts in response to the prompt and enjoyed those perspectives, but none of them really said what I was thinking, what I guess I’ve been thinking about age for some time.
It isn’t that I dwell on age, I don’t. Certain ages I have been stand out in my memory but overall I just go through each day, trying to focus on the present. I remember 35 being a particularly bad year. I was still mired in a disintegrating marriage and couldn’t see any way out. But I survived that. Hell, I survived much worse. Forty was probably one of my best years – I’d lost a lot of weight, was the smallest I’d ever been as an adult and I was single again. I was solely responsible for my happiness and it was glorious!
So when I really think about it at all it’s to ask myself, “Why don’t I feel older?” Seriously. For example, I’ll be 58 this year, but whenever I’m faced with making a decision that’s harder than what to have for dinner or what to wear to work, I feel like I’m in high school trying to decide my life’s course. When I was a kid I was SURE that when I grew up I’d know what to do, where to go, what choices to make, how to live. Forty some odd years later I’m still waiting for that certainty.
Sure, I understand some things better as an adult than the child did, but I still don’t have a lot of trust in all my decisions. And some of them have been so very bad! The consequences of those poor choices have chipped away at my self-confidence. The ripples affect all aspects of my life. Do I throw my hat in for the lead secretary position? Or will I just screw that up? Should I update my resume and look for a better job? Maybe I should go back to school.
I know most people face these types of choices. Do they also feel like they’re still little kids, pretending to be grown-ups?
Or is that just me?