They were imperfect role models, but I’m learning from them and adopting healthier practices.
Perspective by Ginger May
Fifteen years ago, around the age of 50, I began compiling my list of “foolish mistakes to avoid as I age.” With each passing year, the list grew longer as I observed the pitfalls my parents encountered (in my humble view). I made a solemn vow to steer clear of these mistakes.
I intended to age with greater wisdom and with more grace.
Over time, my parents’ refusal to recognize their declining physical and mental state stood out as the primary concern on my list. Despite my father’s awareness of the dangers of falls due to his family history—both my grandparents passed away from complications arising from falls—he resisted using a cane until he required a walker. Even then, he rejected the walker. His frequent falls became too numerous to track, culminating in a severe incident where he broke four ribs, leading to his hospitalization in the ICU.
Two weeks later, my siblings and I bid farewell to him as he lay in his final moments at home.
At 59 years old, despite witnessing my father’s and grandfather’s stubbornness leading to fatal consequences, I didn’t heed my own advice. Like them, I possessed a mixture of denial and arrogance. The concept of aging seemed distant, reserved for others, not for me.
But a few months after I turned 60, I did my first really stupid thing. I had to get a book off a high shelf, but did I get the stepladder first? Nope. Instead, I climbed on top of the desk, I put one foot on it and the other on a chair, but I was still unable to reach it.
As I attempted to jump and grasp it, a voice in my head finally chastised me for my recklessness. I promptly descended from my precarious position and get the stepladder. Book retrieved, and fortunately, no falls – at least not yet.
As I jumped up and down like a Jack Russell terrier, I wondered if I was turning into my father. When I think of his final decade, I remember him as defiant, in denial, and fearful of losing his independence. It dawned on me that aging intelligently is not as simple as it seems.
We’ve all heard the saying, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” A friend, who also witnessed their parents grappling with new limitations and anxieties, reminded me of this truth: “Despite our efforts to avoid it, we inevitably become like our parents.”
The realization terrified me. Yet, it prompted a crucial question: What could I do differently?
Many individuals from my generation—baby boomers—have often associated aging with sickness, isolation, and disability. However, it doesn’t need to be this way. As sociologist Deborah Carr highlighted in her 2023 book, “Aging in America,” significant economic, technological, and cultural shifts in recent years suggest that older adults in 2050 will lead vastly different lives from those currently reaching retirement age.
I came to realize that my list of “stupid things I wouldn’t do” was essentially a set of commitments to myself on how to navigate aging with greater wisdom. By documenting these, I intended to hold myself accountable. Furthermore, by sharing them, I aimed to raise awareness about our perceptions of aging and how we can make more informed and positive choices. Research indicates that health commitments can motivate individuals to take small, manageable steps that contribute to substantial improvements in overall health.
Once individuals begin viewing themselves as deteriorating, unwell, or aged, they often fall into the trap of negative self-expectations. According to the World Health Organization, older adults who experience ageism typically live, on average, 7.5 years less than those who hold positive attitudes toward aging.
Becca Levy, a professor specializing in public health and psychology at Yale University and the author of “Breaking the Age Code: How Your Beliefs About Aging Determine How Long and Well You Live,” states, “In numerous studies I conducted, I discovered that older individuals with more optimistic perceptions of aging exhibited better physical and cognitive performance compared to those with pessimistic views. They were more likely to recover from severe disabilities, had better memory retention, walked at a faster pace, and even lived longer lives.”
Unlike my parents, I’m actively striving to cultivate a deeper appreciation for the blessings of aging and have begun taking gradual steps toward living a more fulfilling life.
Wear hearing aids when necessary. I’ve already had my hearing checked, and although it’s not perfect, my audiologist assures me it’s sufficient for a few more years. Unlike my father, who refused assistance for his hearing loss and consequently became isolated, I am committed to getting hearing aids when the time comes. And knowing myself, I’ll likely share my experience openly. There’s no shame in seeking help.
Maintain an active social life. Unlike my parents, whose social circles contracted as they grew older, I’ve been actively expanding mine, particularly to include individuals from younger generations. Research indicates that cultivating intergenerational friendships benefits both younger and older individuals, contributing positively to overall health and psychological well-being.
Stay active. Health professionals emphasize the importance of remaining physically active as you grow older. Unlike my mother, who became increasingly sedentary and isolated, I prioritize keeping my body moving. With the pandemic subsiding, I’ve returned to the dance floor, reveling in the joy of swinging and sweating together once more. Not only does physical activity provide an endorphin boost, but as Kelly McGonigal, author of “The Joy of Movement,” explains, engaging in collective action reminds us of our interconnectedness, while moving in community reinforces our sense of belonging.
Smile often. I make a conscious effort to smile frequently, whether it’s at acquaintances, loved ones, or even my furry companion. Smiling triggers a chemical reaction in the brain, releasing dopamine and serotonin, which respectively heighten happiness and alleviate stress.
Seek assistance when needed. Avoid climbing on objects and instead, ask for help when something is out of reach. If balance becomes a concern, utilize a cane or walker. Refrain from denying potential mobility issues, and take proactive measures to prevent falls by removing area rugs and obstacles from your home.
This journey isn’t easy; it requires dedication and practice. Ultimately, I believe that my parents did the best they could. However, I’m reminded of Andrew Weil’s wisdom in “Healthy Aging”: “We are not hostages to our fate.” This suggests that individuals have the power to make smarter choices that can positively impact their later years.
I’ve written this quote on a blue Post-it note and placed it on my bathroom mirror as a daily reminder. Every morning, as I brush my teeth, I reflect on these words, starting with balancing on my left foot and then my right—a practice that aids in improving my balance. My goal is to break the cycle of fatal falls that have affected my family for generations. Wish me luck.