Getting Old Sucks

Getting old sucks. Stinks. Whatever unpleasant or colorful verb or adjective you’d like to insert here. I think when you’re a teenager, you have a degree of believing you’re invincible (at least in my society). You think you know better than parents, teachers, or other adults. You think you can conquer the world, and that you’re capable of anything. It can also creep into belief about your physical prowess, and believing nothing really bad or catastrophic will happen to you. Other people, sure, but not you. I thought I grew out of this by my 30’s, but I can see a shred of it was still left in me until later. Lose muscle mass after 40? Oh, that only happens to other people who aren’t active and let themselves go. Sure, the society as a whole works boring desk jobs and is tired or that or taking care of family by that time, so it makes sense that everyone thinks it’s inevitable. But not me, right? If I keep up the same routine of being active? Surely that won’t happen to me, right?

Yeah, reality checks stink too sometimes. Now that I’m well . . . a lot past 40, and to the point that I’m getting applicatios for old-people things (in my country, AARP, Medicare), I’m trying to check in with reality. Thankfully I haven’t had any drastic health issues, but here and there, little nastiness that I feel entitled to feel a little miffed at (resentful? Entitled to gripe or have a mini pity party?)

This is an attempt to think through things and get myself on a better path. Probably in itty, bitty baby steps, because I’m a big ol’ weenie. At least I know it. In my younger years, I took great care warming up and cooling down, because I did not want soreness and pain to be an excuse not to exercise. It did help. I new how to listen to my body and what I could reasonably accomplish. Not so sure about now. Let’s just say that I hurt a lot more than I reasonably should. If I want to change that, I’ve got to figure out a plan. I’ve got to work past those pity parties about why this or that is so hard or unfair and figure out a solution, even if it’s baby steps. Who better to give myself advice than me?

I certainly never wanted to go to those revered personal trainers I heard about that pushed people so hard they vomited after most sessions. Uhm, unless bulimia was the planned fringe benefit to help lose weight? No, not for me. I’m more of the slower than a turtle-sloth lifestyle sustainable changes, and even then, I’ve failed at multiple programs designed around that.

Sadly I admit I’ve started down that nasty path of if it hurts, fine, I don’t wanna do that, or I do less and less. That forecasts me being the little old lady who refuses to do physical therapy after a fall and never gets out of bed the rest of her life. I think I’d rather be that weird old lady who makes (very slow) laps around the assisted living or nursing center even if it takes her 3 hours to cover a couple of miles. Good socializing that way, right?

I’m a horrible introvert and diagnosed depression, so I know social connections are important. So is exercise. I no longer have goals of getting down to this weight or into that size. But when you feel cruddy all the time because you’re old and things hurt and you stay in and don’t go anywhere . . . You see this can get into a nasty downward spiral. I guess I'll attempt blogging about this in an effort to shake off this funk.