Category: aging

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I dream that I am teaching again, and having assigned the class independent work, I am spending time connecting with each student to see if they are grasping the material. It’s my favourite part of teaching, and I wake up wondering if I’ll ever have that feeling again. So rewarding.

It is bittersweet, growing old. Many of life’s goals have been achieved, and yet, the desire for more still exists. At least, it does for me. I’m just not sure what to do about it.

Now That I Matter

The times I waited –
restless and raging
deliberately put on hold
dismissed, degraded, ignored.

Why did I put up with that?
Was I so afraid I’d lose it all?
So uncertain about a future?

How the children came to me
need in their eyes, little arms
begging to be embraced,
and I too blinded to reach out
fixated on the anger, powerless,
immersed myself in distractions
could not respond to their pleading
while my own inner child was doing the same

How I’d let other people’s agendas
override mine – their need to be rescued
or fixed, or to ride on my successes –
boundaries never a strong suit
my own desires so far buried
as to be practically nonexistent

How I’d avoid confrontation
never the top dog – hiding
rather than facing the bullies
in my sight – my loyalty,
my friendship a given
seldom valued by even me

How I took on the discards of others
let men dictate my life –
sorting through their carelessness
like spoon feeding adolescents
Perpetually in mother mode.

I am standing on a threshold
no doubt others will not like
Where I matter now
and love takes precedence
and my inner child shines,
and my priorities are front facing
and loyalty an earned gift
Where men are called to account
and women upheld and valued.

I am proud of who I am,
forgive all the ways I’ve put me down
and chose to radiate  
Love guiding this new light.

(Self portrait by me )

Not Everything Is Defined by Age

As a child, I knew no limits, setting out on adventures with never a fear for how I’d find my way back home.

Now, nestled in my home, I limit myself to certainties, fearful of risks.

Some days, I wonder about that child, and how it would feel to wander freely, and it makes me smile.

The body may be hindered, but the imagination remains forever young.

(Post originally appeared on One Woman’s Quest II, May 2022)

Present Distance

I’ve lived the fog of distance –
life’s highway a series of hills
destination without promise

Have learned that acceptance gains perspective,
that climates change, and hope sustains,
and that in the stillness dreams renew.

Now I travel quieter paths, appreciate
space, have surrendered to a slower pace –
certain that this too will change.

(image my own)

Re-de-fine-d

Ask me how I’m doing
and I’ll say “fine”, not
because I’m actually fine,
but because “fine” is the only
socially acceptable response.

If I said that I have been lying
here, for three hours now,
willing my body to move,
that would elicit unsolicited
advice and tarnish my “fine”.

I’d berate myself for breaking
my promise not to moan,
knowing that complaining
provokes a compulsive need
to fix, which just infuriates me

Because my concept of trying –
which is defined by getting dressed
each day – does not match trying
every new therapy, drug, exercise
offered by well-meaning but clueless

others, who may experience fatigue
at times, but have no understanding
of what is is to be exhausted after
something as simple as bathing,
let alone debating what I haven’t tried.

So, ask me how I’m feeling, and
I’ll say “fine” and we move on
to the weather, or the latest
movie must-see, and I can bask
in the warmth of the contact

carry the conversation into the
void of the rest of my day, smile
to think that I still have friends
who accept my “fine” even though
they know I am anything but…

(Art my own)

Where Are The Dogs?

Contemplating risk –
a reunion with a former self
looking for an exit

When did I become a snake
restrained?
When did I become persona non grata?

I slither between stories
convince myself I can fly
distraction a ruse

I have big cat energy
overstepping boundaries
socially adverse

A faulty jewel
dreaming of abundance
 but there’s a dragon to disarm

My mother’s burden on my back
identity a slippery grasp
always outrunning disaster

Fraternize with celebrity, but
too busy boarding
Warehousing:

spiders in the cellar
straight pins on the floor
newspapers akimbo

How will I put self first
while catering to others, upended?
Unable to park this relentless ache

Boundaries, my soul cries
Enact self protection
Install dogs at the door.

(Image my own)

Collared and Distant

I side with mundanity
caution-led momentum
still, anxiety interjects

Every day presents beauty
wonder, and where am I?
Slinking away from some black dog –
collared and distant

Life offers me a bridge
and I shrink, ducking into
sheltered viewpoints
praying the moment
passes me by

No wonder the black dog
catches me, straining its leash
to sniff this trembling old woman
its handler oblivious to the
fear mounting in the room

I will project the spots of the past
into silent scenarios, and
brace myself as if riding a tiger –
unprepared and hanging on for life

Avoidance is a fool’s game
for life is challenge
and if I’m honest
it’s not the dark that quickens
but rather that which resides within
 
I am the black dog –
collared and distant
I am my spotted past
and I am, in essence
the spirit of the tiger

And I am the very shelter
that I seek
open-doored
and ever-present
for every weary passerby

My walls may be worn
my countenance aging
but I am not without purpose

I shall seek out bridges
and contain these nerves
and cross into the unknown
instinct and intuition intact

Leave anxiety,
collared and distant
behind.

(Image my own)