Week 3: Say "Yes" to "No": The Joys of Aging
First of all, I think this should be a multi-part entry, since there are just SO MANY joys of aging, don’t you think?
What? No?
You mean you’re not thrilled with novel aches and pains in places you never knew existed (who knew there was a splenius?). How about struggling to do things you previously did without effort (I knew sitting on the floor to play with the dogs was a bad idea)? Or being unable to eat formerly-favorite foods (cheesecake, cheesecake, wherefore art thou, cheesecake?)?
And of course, there’s also spending too much on the kids and grandkids (hello, laid-off daughter living in basement!). Or perpetually forgetting all kinds of things (where could a belt have gone? Have you seen my cell phone? And what the heck is that word for “thing you sit on to watch TV” again?)?
C’mon. Being a grownup is FUN, right?
Okay, so maybe certain aspects are not all peonies and unicorns. But there are some good things that come with age. The first of which is knowing there are good things that come with age.
I’ve recognized several ways my life has changed for the better now that I’m a senior person. You know, a “ma’am.” An oldster. A crone. (Actually, I like the word “crone.” I think we should resurrect it with its original meaning, which was a wise, intuitive woman with “inner knowing,” who “uses her wisdom as transformative justice.” (Watch out, all you crone-antagonists out there).
Some of the previously-unknown perspectives can be truly positive at this stage of life. For instance, I now know, much more clearly than ever before, what I truly like and dislike. When I consider my personal environment, I’m aware that I want possesions around me that I love, that make me happy, that I am pleased to interact with daily.
I’ve also become much more comfortable with who I am at the core, quirks and all. Like Zoey, I am willing to play, bark, dance and create in ways that may not make sense to others. As a kid, I let my creativity soar without a second thought. Time to get back to that mentality.
Another way I exercise my cronish “inner knowing”? Well, I’ve determined that not all the ostensible negatives in my life are all that negative, after all.
That’s right: some of the “don’ts” are actually “please do!”s.
For instance, I no longer pretend I like things I don’t actually like. To wit:
I’m sorry, you’d like me to try on the green leather pants with that jacket I took into the dressing room? Uh, NO. That just looks ridiculous.
I’m invited to your ten year-old’s birthday party, complete with treasure hunt and pinata? Sorry, no. I don’t do kids’ parties any more at my age.
That Instagram post I published yesterday offended you? Your feelings were hurt. You feel victimized. You say I’m a &#+@^!? Well, you don’t get to tell me whether or not I’m allowed to hold a particular opinion. And you’re certainly not required to agree with me. In fact, I’d welcome reasoned, level headed debate. But rudeness, lack of civility? Not tolerated. BLOCK!
One of the negatives-that’s-really-a-positive was pushed to the forefront the other day when I spoke with a friend (let’s call her “Sally”). Sally had been wresting with a social dilemma.
She’d invited some friends to a dinner party. She’d spent time carefully curating the guest list, ensuring not only that people would get along, but also that they’d mesh perfectly in that way great dinner party groups can mesh: complementary personalities, witty banter, razor-sharp humor and a shared appreciation for great food and drink. She was looking forward to it.
Then, while walking the dog one day, Sally bumped into an acquaintance (let’s call her “Ms. Quaint”) who happened to know one of the other guests. Ms. Quaint had heard about the event and asked to attend. That’s right: she attempted to invite herself to the party (to which she had not been invited).
Sally was beside herself. She’s known Ms. Quaint for years, though they aren’t close. She wrestled with the guilt of denying Ms. Q access to the party, especially since the other woman had come right out and asked to be included.
“Oh, I know Bradley!” she had said, flapping her hands like boxers on a clothesline. “We get along great! I’d love to be there. Could I just pop in and join you?”
At first, Sally attempted the usual evasive measures that would deter a more sensitive a more intelligent a normal person.
When she said, “Oh, well the food’s already been ordered, and it’s too late to add any more. Sorry,” Ms Q responded: “Oh, that doesn’t matter! I hardly eat anything. I’ll just have some of the salad.”
When she said, “I’m sorry, we just don’t have space at the table, it’s already full,” Quaint responded, “But I can just bring my own folding chair. I’m sure we can fit it in somewhere.”
In the end, my friend was forced to say outright: “I’m sorry, it’s already been planned one way, and we don’t want to change it to another way. So you can’t come this time. Maybe another party.”
Ms. Q persisted. “But why not? I will fit right in!”
Ultimately, both women felt bad. But here’s the thing: to my mind, Sally had done nothing wrong. She is 100% entitled to include only those people she wants at her own party. And she was angry and resentful of the would-be crasher, who simply “couldn’t take a hint.”
Still, as I told her later, that outcome was better than saying “yes” to Ms. Q, when she didn’t mean it. As women, we’re raised to “be nice” to everyone, even if it means agreeing to something we don’t want to do. As crones? F*ck ‘em.
The story brings to mind a mantra one of my old coaches used to say: “‘No’ is a complete sentence.”
It’s a sentence I’ve been practicing more and more in recent years. In fact, one of the joys of aging is this: you’re no longer obliged to do things you don’t want to do. Believe it or not, you have a choice.
And yes, sometimes people will be upset (but the people you want in your life won’t be).
A few years ago, I was the recipient of exactly that kind of behavior. A woman with whom I’d worked online, shared blog posts, traded baking tips, discussed the trials of growing an audience and even co-written a few writing gigs was closing down one of her businesses. Within the online community, rumors flew: there had been a scandal! A former employee betrayed her! The business was flailing and about to sink for good!
Since I considered her a friend and someone with whom I’d shared many details–both personal and professional–as we’d grown our businesses in parallel over the years, I decided to call her up and address the topic directly.
“I heard you’re closing down the [name redacted] site–so sorry to hear it! What happened?”
“We just need to shut it down,” she said.
“Oh, that must be so hard. Was it because of something specific?”
“We just need to shut it down.”
“But why? It looked like things were going so well.”
“We just need to shut it down.”
At this point, it was clear she wouldn’t answer the question. We sat in silence for a minute before I offered to help if she needed it. Then I changed the subject.
You might think I was offended at her tight-lipped response or her refusal to share insider information with me. In fact, the opposite occurred: I was grateful. I admired her ability to remain calm and retain control of her private business.
Even today, I consider her reaction that day as a model response for how to set clear boundaries. I do work on my own boundaries as well, but I’m not quite at her level just yet. Still, it’s something to which I aspire in my personal interactions.
What do you think? Should my friend Sally have been more clear about not wanting another person at the party? Would you have said “yes” instead? If so, why?
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