Yesterday was my reading day at the Mansion, I read from a mystery about a murderous 88-year-old lady, I read the Wonky Donkey, I read a Shel Silverstein poem, and a sad poem by a child in the Great Depression.
I also read from the works of Bruce T. Marshall, a Unitarian Universalist minister who works with the elderly and writes about them (In Later Years: Finding Meaning and Spirit In Aging). I am learning in my weekly readings and in my Thursday Meditation Class that the Mansion residents very much want to talk about aging, community, loss and death.
These conversations are powerful, they are neither maudlin nor depressing. They are very important, to them and to me. I feel I am doing something that is more worthwhile than I imagined.
Yesterday I asked about identity, the condition of being oneself and knowing oneself.
I read a story about one older woman’s struggle with identity and asked the normally taciturn residents talk about their own experience with identity.
“The big surprise for me,” said B, “is that I am no longer in charge of anything – my family, my bills, my house, my meals, my job, shopping, my car, my money, my dogs or cats. No one will let me open a door or carry a bag from the store.”
As she aged, she said, her identity was taken from her bit by bit. People want to help, she said, but there is almost nothing left of her life that she controls. It leaves a big hole, she said, she wanders and feels sad.
“It’s hard to be seen as useless,” she said. “I remember when I cooked the meals.”
M said that people no longer speak directly to her or ask her questions. They assume she is deaf or too confused to know what she is being asked. She can’t remember the last time anyone asked her opinion about anything.
“My family comes to take me out to dinner once in a while,” said T, “but nobody talks to me during dinner, except in loud voices as if I was a child. The waitresses never looks at me or ask me what I want. Nobody wants to know what I think about the world, they think I know nothing. Somebody else always answers.”
How does she deal with that?, I ask. “I speak up, I get loud,” she said, “but most people I know just learn to be quiet. I am learning to be quiet. What’s the point of talking? Nobody cares what they think, we are invisible, even to the people who love us.”
One of the residents said it was still a shock to her to see that the people in her family were no longer her family. They had their own families, and she was no longer really a part of it.
Well, I asked, what is your purpose, what do you see as your identity now?
“I’ll be honest,” she said, speaking slowly but with feeling. “I think my identity now is to cause as little trouble as possible, to not disrupt the lives of other people, and to die quietly and without a fuss…I have no other identity now.”
One of the quiet women in my writing class said she cleaned and vacuumed at Mansion, she dusted every surface every day. It was important to her, that was her identity once – she kept a spotless household for a husband and five children – and it was the way she kept sane at the Mansion.
It got quiet in the room, we were supposed to meet for an hour, but the conversation stretched the class to two hours. I felt drained, I could only imagine what they felt. They were eager to resume the conversation next week. Many are coming to Meditation Class on Thursday.
It got very quiet in the room. Unless you count the sound of breathing softly. I read them stories of older people who re-invent themselves, who reach or mentor or volunteer. I know health is a factor, some people can’t do those things, but some people can.
Perhaps, I said, some of you can be of use to people in the community. Alice said she would love to volunteer in a food pantry. I don’t know if she can. I’ll find out.
I like the idea of finding “spirit” in aging. I want to talk more to the residents about it when I see them next.
When I told the residents I was 72, they were all stunned. They thought I was much younger than that. They want to talk more about that next week. It is something for me to think about as well.
This was an important conversation & must go on. Caregivers don’t always want to talk about anything that could make their charges feel depressed, but these are the issues elderly people think about. Not being able to talk about it must make them feel very isolated.
I have a 25 year old mentally disabled son. He tries to tell people how he feels about his life, being disabled, etc. but many people respond with super sunny messages that leave him feeling unheard and more alone. He needs to feel his feelings, not to be morbid, but to understand himself & his world and then pick up & move on within his reality.
What a wonderful gift you are giving–yourself included–to the Mansion residents (and to me). Thank you.
For years I have been giving a book to new retirees: Two Old Women, an Alaska Legend of Betrayal, Courage and Survival by Velma Wallis. It may be a story the Mansion people will relate to. And enjoy, because the “two old women” are heroines.
It’s is important work, for them and for you. Thank you for this. I try to engage where I am and with who I can. You make me think about this and how I could do more. Thank you for this, too.
You have hit on the central question of aging, identity in the midst of the changes and loss of control of one’s life, to whatever extent. I hope this can be pursued further, as I have a stake in it as well and am working on it. The feeling of uselessness is a predominant one. Continuing to find purpose and meaning is a challenge.
Hi Jon,
At 72, I also continue to reinvent myself. While I facilitate women’s spiritual programs (not religious), I focus my service on “Women of a Certain Age.” That’s the name of my luncheon group. I also teach elders about how to establish safe boundaries for themselves through yet another workshop. Last year, I developed a card deck called Wisdom of Aging, and a workshop that goes along with it.
No, I don’t think I’ll go quietly into this dark night!! You either. Bless you for the work you are doing!
Perhaps one of the hardest aspects of aging – nobody wants to keep it real or talk about those aspects that are real and most people fear.
I think this is exactly what is needed for people to age with dignity – community, meditation, real talk/witnessing that isn’t maudlin but also orients people towards their reality, which usually allows it to held with more ease.
Beautiful stuff.
Jon,
I love the work you are doing with opening the conversations about aging . You might want to look into The Institute of Noetic Sciences course, Conscious Aging. There could be material you could use as food for thought. I have recently been certified as a facilitator for such groups and love the rich dialogue it brings forth in a safe space.