Things I’ve Learned Since Turning 80

When I turned 80, I got sick. First from shingles, then a series of UTI’s. Third and worst of all, sciatica.

 

Pain, and anxiety about pain, became my constant companions. I had to quit my job, couldn’t keep house or cook, couldn’t dress or shower myself, and couldn’t sleep.

 

In the beginning, my husband picked up the slack. Of course, neither of us had an inkling that I wouldn’t be able to care for myself for a long time. Several months in, we were both completely exhausted physically and emotionally. We were crabby, short-tempered, and downright unkind to each other.

 

My illness and immobility were redefining everything. I needed to do something.

 

Practical things first, I hired a housekeeper. Not one who worked based on her own protocol, but one who charged by the hour and asked, “How can I help you today?”

 

I have her come weekly and clean the kitchen and bathroom, wash sheets, and tend to whatever else I feel needs tending. Traci turned out to be the best thing I ever spent my retirement money on and, now that I have her, I’m never letting her go.

 

Next, I flat-out needed help managing my emotional responses to my current status. Moaning and groaning about being “old” wasn’t working!

 

While I’ve been in therapy before, it’s never been like this. This time, it wasn’t to change or “fix” my marriage, it wasn’t to help me identify my archetypes, or even to “get your anger out, get it all out!”

 

This time, my therapist is my shaman, witch doctor, rabbi, Jesuit confessor, and healer. He listens with kindness and expertise as I unpack everything that’s on my mind and heart.

 

I’ve told him every secret I’ve ever had and every story about every skeleton in every closet of my life. I’ve shared with him my confusions, doubts, regrets I didn’t realize I had, and even my fear of death.

 

Along the way, I changed. Not only did I feel lighter emotionally, but my physical pain and lack of mobility lessened its hold on me as well.

 

I no longer thoughtlessly reacted to my husband or to events around me but responded with equanimity instead. I forgave myself for whatever I’d done that may have caused others pain. I understood and accepted people with greater empathy than I knew I was capable of. I became an all-round calmer, happier person and, in the mornings, I looked in the mirror and accepted the aging face I saw there with understanding and respect.

 

In the first session with my therapist, I told him, “I’m fairly sure that if I seek inner peace, everything else will take care of itself.”

 

That said, living for 80 years definitely consists of bad news and good news.

 

The bad news is that it has its losses, physical aches and pains, and slowed mental acuity and physical prowess. It is also filled with that annoying thing Buddhists refer to as constant change — although at 80, they come at warp speed.

 

On the other hand, there’s lots and lots of good news. Living to 80 gives you impetus, time, and in some cases, money — to unburden yourself, give voice to your life story, and accept all of who you are. You are not filled with the false pride of youth and can ask for help when you need it (such as hiring a housekeeper and therapist). When you’re in your eighties you pay for what you need with money you set aside for retirement without questioning your fiduciary wisdom. In fact, in your eighties you question little about yourself and your decisions.

 

The greatest thing, however, is that you value inner peace above all things, understanding that it is the only true thing worth having on that famous bucket list everybody talks about.

 

The best news of all? Just like I told my therapist, when you’re in your eighties, when you have inner peace, everything else takes care of itself.

 

Carmelene Melanie Siani is beloved for her widely published stories on family, caregiving, grief, late-life love and more. Find her at www.facebook.com/StoryBelly