Saying goodbye

I am trying to understand this feeling of resignation I am experiencing lately. Waves of pain, of longing rise up to accompany the feeling. It is almost as if I am saying goodbye to something. It is very deep ... and sad. There are days when I think I might be dying. I wonder, "Am I killing myself finally?"

Entering into elder-hood is a type of farewell. A moving on, a death of sorts. I have had my chance. I hold still, staring at the feeling full front and center. Pretty uncomfortable. At times tears roll down my cheeks uncontrollably. I wipe them away, feel pain under my rib-cage, and at the same time observe it rolling away ... it will be back at the least expected moments.

It is cold, gray and raining today. A dripping kind of rain that feels like a weeping instead of a cleansing sky.

Yes. I know that this new era of age and wisdom is a welcome one and I should be upbeat about it. When all else fails I have my attitude. I believe that I will come to that or probably I will go in and out of all of these feelings over and over again even as I move closer to acceptance.

The sadness is not about regret although I wish I had known then what I know now. It is really a goodbye sadness, a fare-thee-well. Last night friends said I am looking good: "Elegant," was the term they used. There, the pain rose within and tears sprung into my eyes. I looked away so that no one would notice. Was it good to be called elegant? I do not think I was ever considered elegant before. I was shocked. "Where have I gone?" My brain cried out. I immediately pulled out my old clown-self, excellent support in times of emotional intensity: "Elephant?" I replied. "Did you say elephant?" They shouted out laughing in unison: "NO! Elegant ... E.L.I.G.O.N.T!" Tears turned to laughter as I corrected their spelling.

I bring my sad olde soul to the tamarika blog. Here I do not have to clown, cover up, hide those dark, cold moments alone. I come to this comfortable, safe place and bid farewell to the youthful me, weeping even as I write. Bye bye old year. Bring on the new one. Perhaps now I might begin the journey toward embracing the aging, elder person I am becoming.

But, hey! I refuse to give up passion. That I will never give up! Okay?

Comments

[Joy Des Jardins]

I felt a lot of different things as I read this post Tamar. Growing older has it's frightening moments to be sure; and I deal with those moments with humor...as you do. I'm finding that I have to pull out the "humor card" more and more often these days. Lovely post.

[Danny]

"I should be upbeat about it."

Now there's a line you'd never let me get away with, Tamar. Why *should* you be upbeat about the transition you're going through? Why not experience all the pain and sadness that it brings up while still recognizing as you do the joys and benefits of this new era of age and wisdom. And thank God you're not giving up on passion. Don't you think we're far better suited for that now than we were 25 years ago?

I loved that original discussion where your friend said "you've had your chance" but whenever I think about it I have to be very careful that I don't take it too far. The only thing that is "over" is a certain kind of biological youth—I sure don't plan to step aside for anything else.

Wonderful post to wake up to and think about as the year comes to an end.

[Jean]

Mmm. What always strikes me as odd is that I only have these thoughts with categories of 'older' and 'younger' about myself. When I look at my friends, both older and younger than me, well that has nothing to do with it. They are just beautifully themselves and I want them to be happy and feel angry and sad when they're not. I don't compare them with anything, and I certainly wouldn't want them to be how they were at some previous time, because I love them now. So I think these categories of age are probably beside the point, really, and just another way of feeling bad about ourselves - there are always so many ways! I mean, well, yes, I do feel sad, for example, that I never had children. But the tragedy isn't really that I have no children, is it? - there are so many children in the world. The tragedy is my clouding of my present experience with regret and non-acceptance. What am I trying to say? Well, I think you are just feeling sad and have many feelings to deal with, and as time goes by growing new strengths means you are now able to deal with more of these. Ends, new stages, some concrete thing called elderhood that begins today... I'm not sure I feel this has much reality. But your tears are real, compassion for yourself and the growth that words can sometimes help. Ach, I don't know. Lots of love, Tamar.

[Richard Lawrence Cohen]

The thing that strikes me most about this moving and tender post is that it is indisputably, ferociously *alive*. And that is what you are, Tamarika. So cry and laugh and change elegant to elephant, for decades to come, and make an adventure of it till the last breath. It's a little sad for us readers not to know the complex, mercurial real-life Tamar you've decribed in many posts, but it's a joy to know the honest, soulbaring one who writes here.

[Tamar]

Jean, thanks so much for sharing this. So much truth in what you describe as reality or not. And, once again, you give my brain and heart much to consider. I adore the "Ach, I don't know." Wonderful friend!

Danny, When I wrote "I should be upbeat about it" I had my tongue firmly in cheek because I agree ... "Why not experience all the pain and sadness that it brings up while still recognizing ... the joys and benefits of this new era of age and wisdom." Although, easier said than done at times.
Joy des Jardins, thanks so much for joining this conversation. Humor has always pulled me out of emotionally intensive moments. Sometimes it doesn't allow me to experience them though. Am learning to find a balance with that.
Richard, your comment moved me to tears. Thank you so much.

[Melinama]

I'm having exactly the same kind of war with myself and it's one I suspect every honest person has again and again on the backside of life, re-evaluating and reconsidering what is still possible, what is, realistically, over, what surprises may still lie ahead. And knowing that however grave the losses and disappointments are that we have survived so far, there will be more, and that is the essence of the life we inherited when we were born. I remember hating to be around when my kids had to realize that there is death in the world. I wanted to say: "I didn't choose for it to be this way!" We all learn the same lesson over and over.

And yet, as we look back, our 30-year-old selves, who agonized over their looks and their aging, were so vital and young. And our forty-year-old selves ... at any given point, we have a lot, even if there are other things we long for.

Hang in there,
Jane/Melinama

[Tamar]

Jane/Melinama,
What a gracious message you share here. My post was worth it for these type of comments. By the way, just by writing it I have been feeling ever so much better ... for now. Thank you so much.

[Elogent]

(Murmuring...)I thought when we said someone's "elegant", it means that she's as elegant as Audrey Hepburn. Never thought that "elegant" can also be used to describe senior citizens, or active adults...

[Tamar]

And, Elogent, Audrey Hepburn is one of my favorite stars. How delicious to be compared to her. Finally! After all those years ... and ... (murmuring) ... thank you so much ...