I've been thinking a lot the last few days about the finite and the infinite.
When I was younger - in my teens and 20s - everything seemed infinite. There were so many wonderful choices, and so much time to do everything.
I turned 60 last winter, and now suddenly, everything feels finite. Choices made now are more than likely final ones. Things I buy - a good coat, a car, something for the house - these are the things I'll see and use until I die. It's a frightening realization, and a sobering one.
In my 40s and 50s I was so busy working and taking care of a family, I always thought there would be plenty of time to get around to things I wanted to try, hobbies I'd neglected, trips I wanted to make.
Now, with diminished financial means, limited energy (when did I ever have enough?), and a time line that, at best, might give me another 20 good years - every choice becomes far more important.
And some dreams must be adjusted. A wonderful potter I admire told me it took her 30 years to get that good at it. Damn. I don't have 30 years to get good! So I'll just have to settle for "good enough" - and be grateful that I don't have to make a living off of my awkward attempts.
In the past, I've been "lady bountiful" to friends and family. That, too, must change now. I have no idea how I'm going to do Christmas this year. But I do know it's going to be far different from the over-abundance of the past.
Finite vs. infinite. Everything seems finite to me now.
I'm trying to make good decisions, but it's all new to me.
I'm just not used to thinking like an old woman.
I certainly never intended to become one.
If, like me, you've been compelled to watch Susan Boyle sing "I Had a Dream" over and over again, then please let me know if this makes sense to you.
Susan has come at a time when the world economy is struggling and millions of baby boomers are reaching early old age.
When she was not beautiful or even young any longer, we could relate.
When she had put her own dreams on hold for so long to take care of others and do the right thing, we could relate.
When she sang of dreams unfilled and showed a talent that had been there all along - we could relate.
And the emotions that poured out of her rang true. You felt she had been holding these feelings in for years.
When she sang of a dream "so different from this hell I'm living" - anyone who has ever lost everything and had to start all over again - could relate.
In the movie, "Cinderella Man", a boxer who has lost nearly everything in the great depression and undergone unbearable humiliation and desparation finally gets a second chance. There is a turning point in the film where no one believes he has anything left to give, and he flashes scene upon scene of the hardships he's been through, of poverty and soup lines and his children being taken away from him and he looks at the other fighter and smiles. And you know it's all over, that he's going to win. And why.
And at the beginning of her song, there is a brief moment when Susan Boyle smiles, because she's been through it all before - the laughter and the jeers - and she has a secret. She knows she will turn them around. She has the patience of the long-suffering, who have lived through pain and humilation and loss and felt alone, as she has - and she brought all of that to her song.
And she touched that part of us that knows how it feels. And we loved her for it. We loved her courage and her vulnerability as much as her talent.
And, for a moment, we all were there with her, on stage, reaping the long-awaited rewards. And it was
a golden moment.
How perfect. I wrote a posting, pouring out my heart, and then it disappeared. So I will have to rewrite this part all over again. Which is fitting, since it was about starting over again without crutches - those things we depend upon to help us make it through the night and avoid taking a long, hard look at who we are and why we are in pain.
I don't mind writing this over again. I am used to do-overs by now. At my age (60), there have been a lot of do-overs in my life. With most of them I have simply put my head down and walked through it, carrying whatever burden was on my shoulders with me.
I had a business fail once, shortly after my marriage failed. Things happen like that - in twos or threes. We stop fighting to get ahead or to defend what is ours, and bad stuff creeps in. I went deeply in debt and was unable or unwilling to summon the super-human effort to rebuild it all over again.
I remember taking a job doing technical writing. I thought it was simple enough that it would be stress free. It was an hour and a half from my house, and that was the winter we had the worse blizzard in 20 years. I drove through that blizzard, to get to work to pay off my debts.
I worked in an environment that was run by men from a culture that did not value women. They would stand next to me and talk loudly while I tried to work. I put my head down and kept writing. I wrote 700 pages for those people, and paid off my debt. And I never complained. When I was through, I left, and never looked back.
Some parts of your life are life that. You try to bear them with dignity. You go numb and just do what has to be done - the next right thing.
A lot of people are going through this right now. They are hurting. They are having to keep going without the things that gave them pride or pleasure before. They have no choice. That is life. And it is not always fair.
Sometimes we are better off walking without our crutches. It makes us stronger. Do-overs are not easy, but the person who comes out the other side is like steel tempered by fire.
Today I start over again. I am 60 years old and now retired. Not a well-planned, well-thought-out retirement, but one I fell face-first into. So here I am, clueless.
I have a sense of what I'd like this chapter of my life to be. Certainly quieter and less stressful than the old one. And creative. I must have creativity, and lots of projects.
That means redesigning my living space, which finally has become a priority. No longer will I just sleep and eat here - I will live here. Hopefully, for another 20 or 30 good years.
I will not make the mistake of over planning this time, but rather, will let it evolve as I go along.
Real friends, more me-time, more creativity, and hopefully, more peace. That's my goal.
Wish me luck. And follow my journey, if you care to.
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