Getting Old
I'm not really that old, but I feel it sometimes. I feel it when I don't work out for a couple of days and my joints begin to ache and crack. I feel it when I work out and I have stiffness and pain for a few days afterwards. It is especially evident in the lines on my face - though these are still subtle. The grey hairs I am beginning to notice are the final calling card, letting me know that I have passed a milestone.
You read all the time about this kind of thing. Movies are made about it. It's a tired, old story about realizing that you are getting older and that youth is going or gone. My rephrasing it is most likely only of interest to me - a sort of middle-aged self-indulgence, but I feel my view on it is worth putting down.
In my case, getting older means realizing that the endless wellspring of energy I once had is now not endless. I used to feel that I could go on forever if I wanted to. That whole concept of ferever has changed too. Forever, back when I was younger, was a real possibility - or at least it felt that way. But today, forever is meaningless. Back in my early 20's, if I looked 15 years ahead, 35 years old looked like it was never coming. It was far off, and unreal. Now, I look 15 years ahead, and, having lived through 15 year stretches, I know that 15 years is not that long. Plus, 36 + 15 = 51, which is no spring chicken.
Getting older has also meant coming to a point, nearly of crisis, concerning what comes next. My problem is that I only planned my life up to age 35. After that, I had no plan, and even then, I just thought that I'd figure something out if and or when I got there.
Well here I am, and I am still trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life.
A smart person might say that one need not plan the rest of one's life, and just live, one day at a time.
That person may be right, but it just doesn't work that well with me. I've spent too much of my life living towards something, and now that I've reached those things, I am on the edge of a cliff, so-to-speak, with nothing ahead.
This must be what retired people go through. But I'm not retired! I still have many great years ahead of me, so why am I so inspirationless?
Looking at this from a seasonal perspective has me thinking my problem as of late might be the result of being adversely affected by the weather. Maybe I have seasonal affective disorder?
To combat this, I have begun to exercise more, despite the creakiness of my joints, and I've also tried not to come up with an answer to the question of what's next. I'm just living my life - day to day.
You can see how well it's working. . .
You read all the time about this kind of thing. Movies are made about it. It's a tired, old story about realizing that you are getting older and that youth is going or gone. My rephrasing it is most likely only of interest to me - a sort of middle-aged self-indulgence, but I feel my view on it is worth putting down.
In my case, getting older means realizing that the endless wellspring of energy I once had is now not endless. I used to feel that I could go on forever if I wanted to. That whole concept of ferever has changed too. Forever, back when I was younger, was a real possibility - or at least it felt that way. But today, forever is meaningless. Back in my early 20's, if I looked 15 years ahead, 35 years old looked like it was never coming. It was far off, and unreal. Now, I look 15 years ahead, and, having lived through 15 year stretches, I know that 15 years is not that long. Plus, 36 + 15 = 51, which is no spring chicken.
Getting older has also meant coming to a point, nearly of crisis, concerning what comes next. My problem is that I only planned my life up to age 35. After that, I had no plan, and even then, I just thought that I'd figure something out if and or when I got there.
Well here I am, and I am still trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life.
A smart person might say that one need not plan the rest of one's life, and just live, one day at a time.
That person may be right, but it just doesn't work that well with me. I've spent too much of my life living towards something, and now that I've reached those things, I am on the edge of a cliff, so-to-speak, with nothing ahead.
This must be what retired people go through. But I'm not retired! I still have many great years ahead of me, so why am I so inspirationless?
Looking at this from a seasonal perspective has me thinking my problem as of late might be the result of being adversely affected by the weather. Maybe I have seasonal affective disorder?
To combat this, I have begun to exercise more, despite the creakiness of my joints, and I've also tried not to come up with an answer to the question of what's next. I'm just living my life - day to day.
You can see how well it's working. . .
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