This Wednesday I turn 65. It would be absurd to say this is all thrills and chills; it is not. I have your typical post 60 aches and pains. I was never a good sleeper, and my sleep is worse. Whatever I feel now, I fell more deeply; hence, in many ways I am sadder, since I look at the grief of people I love, and I, too feel their pain. The flip side of feeling this pain is also feeling enormous joy and gratitude-not just for my Medicare, part A and my discounted Metrocard, but for what I have.
Let's begin with confidence. I now understand what really matters. When my children were growing up, I felt it was WRONG to have them booked up the wazoo with a million classes because I knew-deep in my heart of hearts-a creative child is never born out of an overly-busy schedule. How did I know this? Since I had so many hours growing up with just my imagination, and this enabled me to become a writer, an inventor of stories. People I know in the arts all share the same trajectory-no way would they ever have started drawing and painting it they were overly-booked. NOW there are countless articles with what is wrong with contemporary parenting; these children will never have the opportunity to discover themselves because their parents make them TOO BUSY. Why did I feel insecure about my own thoughts instead of trusting myself? I gave my children countless do nothing hours, but did not trust it was the right thing (though instinct told me it was).
I was right. And now I am confident in what matters. I consistently trust my instincts and have confidence in myself. It matters to have freedom to become, to have lots of leisure, to do important work in the world, to give and give generously. My job grants me the pleasure of giving in the world, and my writing ventures now consist of good deed projects, whether they be writing about children devastated my Hurricane Maria or children at the border.
I know who my friends are, I have good ones, and-if not-I am able to discard. I like people who are real, honest authentic-not fluffy, superficial friends. The same goes for my family; I value them deeply, and am not afraid to tell them how I feel. What use is pretense?
I deplore pretense, the superficial, the meaningless.. Because of this, if a friend or family member is struggling, I feel this sorrow, so sometimes I am weighted down, but this is a good thing because it allows me to empathize, and be grounded in the REAL; life is not always frivolous. Sometimes the sorrow has no legitimate outlet, but I am always hopeful things will get better. And if I am down, I allow myself to feel this.
Yes, I am still idealistic and hopeful-the thing about me that has not changed. And toward this end, I feel to mine own self I am always true. I am appreciative that I can say, "Too old for this shit."
This is the truth of 65. And so-let the good times roll and I will follow them on whatever journey they take me on.
Happy birthday, Pam
