"No, No—I Don't Do *That* Anymore."

Discovering new limits and embracing them on our own terms. An open thread...

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Readers,

Obviously I’m all about rejecting society’s dictates about who can do what until which age. As far as I’m concerned, for as long as your heart continues to beat, wear whatever clothes or hairstyles or hair colors you wish, dare to try whatever new adventures you feel you’re up for, etc., etc.

That said, now and then, as we get older, we discover that certain things just don’t work for us anymore. Maybe our tastes have changed over time. Maybe (okay, definitely) our bodies have changed and no longer cooperate when we try to use them in certain ways. Sometimes we have to discover such limits the hard way.

Now and then, as we get older, we discover that certain things just don’t work for us anymore.

For example, this week my 56-year-old arthritis-addled body went on strike after I tried to make it do what it used to with ease: I traipsed around New York City for two days in 100-degree heat lugging my laptop in one bag, a dozen copies of my book in another, and my clothes and toiletries in a small roll-y suitcase. Like some human luggage rack, loaded down with all that heavy stuff I climbed up and down steamy subway staircases and pounded the hot pavement, dripping with sweat, salty perspiration stinging my eyes the whole time—until I couldn’t, and either hitched a cab, called a Lyft, or boarded a ferry (my new favorite mode of transportation).

By the time I got on the bus back upstate, my lower back was spasming hard. My neck and shoulders were aching. My messed up right hip was screaming. That was Tuesday, four whole days ago. I’ve been popping Meloxicam and Extra Strength Tylenol and alternating between heat and ice and slowly recovering since.

My first thought when I got home was, “I guess I’m too old for this shit.” But something about that admonishment didn’t feel right. It felt as if I was taking on an external ageist perspective, the kind I prefer to reject. Not to be toxically positive—I reject that, too—but while lying on an ice pack, I arrived at a way of thinking about it that felt a bit more empowered: “I don’t do that anymore.”

While lying on an ice pack, I arrived at a way of thinking about it that felt a bit more empowered: “I don’t do that anymore.” I’d discovered a limitation, and embraced it on my own terms.

I’d discovered a limitation, and embraced it on my own terms. As in: This is something I have decided I am done with. Framed that way, it felt kind of rad. As in: Look at me deciding what is and isn’t right for me!

It reminded me of the difference between gym-yoga classes at Crunch in the city when I lived there in my 30s—where an instructor shouted at us to find our “edge” and push past it—and ashram-yoga classes at Kripalu—where an older yogi softly advised us to practice “ahimsa,” or “non-injury”; to find our “edge,” and respect it.

What are some limitations you’ve encountered—and embraced—with age? Tell me…

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Some notes on things I’m up to…

• This Tuesday, August 16th at 7pm, you’ll find me at Joe’s Pub in Manhattan, representing the 50s in the Generation Women reading series hosted by Georgia Clark. Also reading: Kyla Sylvers, Oldster contributors Chloe Caldwell and Vanessa Mártir, Ivy Woolf Turk, and Jackie Margolis.

  

• This Thursday, August 18th at 7pm EDT, join Oldster Magazine for a virtual conversation between author Liz Prato and me, moderated by Rumpus editor Katie Kosma. Liz and I will talk about her book, Kids in America: A Gen X Reckoning, and mine, And You May Find Yourself: Confessions of a Late-Blooming Gen X Weirdo. We’ll also talk more broadly about what it means to be Gen X. Free, over Zoom. Only 20 spots left. Sign up!

Sign up!

• Oldster Magazine will turn 1 on August 31! I’ll be raising subscription prices so that I can continue to bring you diverse perspectives on getting older at every phase of life, and keep paying contributors. If you haven’t yet become a paid subscriber, now is a great time to get in on the low rates of $40/year or $6/month.