Three AM is not the best time to be awake, when a good night’s sleep is needed in order to have the energy for the next busy day. But three AM is when, on some nights, my inner self alerts my mind to what it is misperceiving, or not giving sufficient attention to, with subsequent unaddressed emotional stress further depleting my already age-limited energy. My most recent three AM wakening first brought out a well of anger at banks for forcing abandonment of payment by check, through outrageous fees for using checking accounts as they were originally designed to be used – to pay monthly bills, for non-local purchases, and daily expenses when carrying much cash is putting oneself at risk.
Apparently we are now supposed to set all regular payments as automatic withdrawals from an account. I have already experienced the humongous hassle of trying to stop one of those when it is no longer appropriate, and swore I would not go that route again for anything less than a gun to my head. A few current monthly expenses are paid by direct withdrawal, but only as I initiate them each month – nothing automatic. And every time I do provide account information online I cringe, too aware of the risks from hacking, fraud and phishing that we are constantly warned to be alert for.
So what is left? Constant use of a credit card – while monitoring the totals so it can be paid off in full each month, obviating fees. That carries some risk, however – in that the issuer can put a hold on the card at any time, if they suspect there may be a fraudulent charge, and apparently there is no requirement that they promptly notify the legitimate card holder of the fraud alert hold. I was left stranded overseas, my card refused, in one such case. It took three days of long distance calls to get the hold released. And just recently a similar silent hold prevented local withdrawal of cash from an account, again without any notice to me.
We older people are persistently urged to “keep up with the times” as technological “advances” flood our lives. This older person appreciates some of the benefits of interconnectivity, and as a writer I most certainly appreciate the ease of editing and rewriting online, compared to using the typewriter with which I began. Not all the changes and supposed helpers that change my words or think they know better than I do what I am trying to say and how I wish to express it. I still turn off every autocorrect that I can. My grammar remains far superior to that which is programmed into current software.
What I don’t appreciate, and I think gives rise to the misperception that older people are resistant to change, is the present conviction that change is always positive. Nope, sorry. Especially not when the changes are rooted in a serious shift in ethos, values and worldview.
I am far from alone in pointing to major changes in how politicians, pundits, the press and the now fashionable “influencers” present themselves, and their perception of what matters – or should matter – to the rest of us. If I were given the right to name the current period of time I would call it the era of personality cultism. How many followers can I collect, in order to sell their information to advertisers and thereby support myself without having to work for someone else? How do I acquire power to use as I see fit, without regard to the good of others, not even that of my constituents (Mr. Manchin)? How loudly can I scapegoat, point fingers, deflect blame, vilify and generally disrespect anyone who doesn’t bow at my feet? How high can I raise narcissism as a virtue, making it the norm rather than an aberration?
In company with many elders, I resist change when it goes so dramatically against the values I have lived by – that respect and a following are to be earned by honest conduct, thoughtful engagement, respectful listening to different viewpoints, and the search for collective wellbeing. I resist the marketing of absolutely everything, and the abandonment of a belief that not everything has a price. If that makes me a “stodgy old fogey” so be it. I suspect I am still in quite good company, though I accept that the current ethos, especially online, deprives me of the opportunity to find and connect with most of that company.
Would that we had louder voices, more stamina and energy to make our presence, our values and our concerns not just heard but listened to! With awareness that the years ahead of us to act and perhaps make a difference are rapidly diminishing, it is difficult not to despair. If all I can do now is stand firm in my own life, for what I perceive is right, that is what I must do.
So bank be advised – if you won’t let me write checks, I will close my account and go elsewhere!
1eclecticwriter 
O.A.S.?
May 1, 2024I am woefully ignorant of the texting/social media abbreviations that increasingly occur in the crossword puzzles I used to enjoy as brain stimulation, but now too often toss aside in frustration as unsolvable unless I first take a course in Gen Z culture and textisms. On the other hand I immediately translated my first encounter with OAS – old age syndrome – in an email from a neighbor and friend of my generation even though she used it with minimal context, just saying she was “doing okay other than OAS”.
At about the same time, I interacted with the young woman whose debut website triggered my most recent post. Following from that recently posted reflection has been an extended meditation on the possible benefits of – and my strong inner resistance to – what is now often referred to as Swedish death cleaning.
(Inserted peeve: the thinks- it- knows- better- than- I- what- I -want- to -say built in grammar monitor is trying to tell me to write “following that reflection” when I do indeed mean following from as in triggered by and derived from, not just coming after in time. I hate the unavoidable, embedded, programmed critics which do not know nuance, nor formal grammar, but try to dictate how I express myself! )
Having undergone the challenge of sorting, selling, discarding or keeping my family belongings after my father’s death many years ago, I fully appreciate the kindness done to survivors by paring down beforehand. Facing the prospect of undertaking such a project myself I equally appreciate how reluctant I am to do so. At first I merely excused myself with the assessment that my energy levels weren’t up to the task (an aspect of OAS). With restricted energy and a goodly number of daily have-to’s, I want what extra energy I have used for more pleasurable activities than sorting and selling or discarding or keeping a lifetime’s accumulations. Having already lost much of what I valued as my personal history to last year’s wildfire, the items remaining seem almost vital to my sense of self.
Yet they are not. Viewed objectively, many of them simply occupy spaces that my eyes are accustomed to seeing them in. Especially the books I have read and will not reread, but keep like old friends, their covers and titles reminding me of the pleasurable time I spent with them in the past.
As I have lived with these conflicting motivations – to simplify and to keep – over the past several days an underlying perspective has emerged. I don’t think the issue is really a tension about things, but rather an inner argument about accepting or refusing to transition from one stage of life to the next. Since retiring something over three years ago, I have not enjoyed the anticipated opportunity to pursue interests that my demanding work life prevented. Covid did not help – nor did the emergence of unrelated health challenges most probably released by my reduction in stress-driven energy. (I relate to the recovering alcoholics who bemoan not being ill until they sober up.)
Looking back over these recent years of retirement, I see a person who achieved (survived) a great deal, coping not just with a health decline but two successive years of wildfire evacuations with extensive losses from the second one, while adding a stepson to my household, overseeing reconstruction of our home, and continuing my role as support to a husband focused on career advancement. Recently several people have described me as courageous. I have not thought that adjective to be descriptive of me – but perhaps they are correct? Is it courageous to push through the demands of each day while trying to be helpful to others whose needs are often urgently disruptive of my planned allocation of time and energy? Or am I just stubbornly refusing to let OAS define me?
I am aware of the often advised benefits to older people that they interact with younger ones to stay engaged and vital. For those with children and grandchildren this sort of interaction often comes naturally, especially when retirement is accompanied by relocation to be nearer to one another (the move usually also producing a paring down of things to the basic essentials). Having no children and hence no grandchildren, my recent acquisition of young step-children feels simultaneously appropriate to following this advice, but also intrusive and an interference with achieving the flexible and free “me” time I had anticipated as a retirement reward.
“Man proposes, God disposes.”
Now I wait, trying to do so patiently, for inner guidance on how to balance my desire to still be the younger version of myself, physically active and energetic throughout the day, meeting the needs of family – with also taking time for myself and my long postponed travel and new learning interests that were the promise of retirement. Often, so far, it seems that I am that courageous “doing” person from my 6AM rising until about 2 in the afternoon, when I become an exemplar of OAS, using the description to excuse resting on the couch, reading and extending my Wordle and FreeCell streaks. Not the image of myself I would choose – but apparently the one I need to accept.
For now, so be it.
Tags:adages, aging, courage, inter-generational interaction, retirement, self-acceptance
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