You can't reach midlife (or beyond) without some baggage. Baggage is different than luggage. Luggage is the stuff you cram 8 weeks of wardrobe changes into and then try to stuff in the overhead compartment. Baggage is something that you drag with you and is crammed into your psyche. Luggage has wheels and a handle. Baggage affixes itself to you and weighs you down. Luggage is full of wonderful things that you love. Baggage is full of crap that you don't love...or even like. Luggage is something you choose and then buy. Baggage you inherit from your life experiences.
You can lose your luggage; you can only hope to lose your baggage.
Is it true that our baggage makes us who we are? If this is true (and sadly, it probably is)does that make us the embodiment of Tramp Art? Something decorative, fashioned from bits and pieces of cast off and broken stuff, and held together with glue? Maybe. But you know what, that ain't so bad. If we are covered with the flotsam and jetsom of our lives then we can be assured of one thing - there is no one like us anywhere on the earth. We are amazingly unique...sometimes outrageous, often gaudy...but definately one-of-a-kind. I can live with that.
Consider the image of Tramp Art. This form of folk art was born in the late 19th century and continued through the 1940's. The tramps (not to be confused with sluts or loose women) were, in essence, folk artists who created incredible, although often gaudy, carvings, boxes and whatnots from discarded wood and found objects. Many were intracately carved and decorated. The myth around Tramp Art is that the objects they made were sold primarily to get money to eat. Actually, many of these folks were artists and they simply liked to make stuff.
No one wants to buy our baggage. Heck, no one really wants to hear about it. Yet we willingly haul it out at every opportunity we have. Why do we do that? Does it provide an excuse for our inexcusable behavior? Is it proof to others that we are survivors? I don't know about you but I am tired of being trapped in a room full of other people's inner stuff. I'm sorry your Mother sucked. Get over it! I feel your pain when you tell me about your sad, lonely childhood..but honey, that was fifty years ago! What has happened in the intervening years? Yes, your high school boyfriend broke your heart, but you were sixteen!!! You know what I'm talking about. We tend to wear our baggage like badges of honor. We let our baggage tell our story. Really? Do you want your baggage to be your story? I sure hope not.
As you work on your reinvention, consider jettisoning the baggage that weighs you down. Go see a therapist who can help you. Do something. Re-write the story of the last half of your life. Think how much lighter you will feel.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
And the Inner Cougar Never Rests
We've all heard about it. Older women with younger men are "cougars". Older men with younger women are "dirty old men". This is probably the only time that label language has favored women. It's about time.
We're all familiar with our generation's cougar role models. I mean, who among us didn't feel just a twinge of wistfulness when Demi snagged Ashton. Not that Ashton is all that appealing, but still, there was that moment of "How the heck did she do that?". Not "why did she do that" - just "how". Imagine for a moment that Gilles Marini or one of the men's cologne models thinks you're hot. That would be a defining moment. Affirmation that we still 'have it'.Or that we finally "have it". I think, I always want to believe I 'have it'....I just have trouble encountering younger men who see it.
When do women stop hoping to be attractive to men? I'll bet the answer is 'never'. I have excellent reasons to think this way. I spend my mornings in a retirement complex where the pickings are few,the women are hungry, and the hunt never ends.
In the assisted living section of the retirement community, residents are assigned to specific dining tables. Someone in his or her infinite lack of wisdom decided that ladies should sit with ladies and gentlemen with gentlemen. Testosterone here, estrogen there. How tidy.
The lady I take care of is almost 96. She has trouble seeing, walking and generally has difficulty with just about everything. But, the most amazing thing happens when she goes to the dining room. No matter how sick or how weak she feels, she always makes a point to flirt with the men. When a gentleman walks through the dining area she calls out "Good evening Doctor.", "Hello Frank." "Good afternoon Bill." It is amazing to watch. It is amazing in several ways. One, she never calls out to other women. (She cannot remember the names of her tablemates.) Two, she is normally quiet and soft spoken. Seeing a man appears to energize her, helping her to produce a loud, strong, and healthy voice while drawing from her a memory for names that is absent in other contexts.She always remembers the men's names. My favorite moment usually occurs after lunch. I help her from the table and guide her to her walker. She insists on leaving the dining room standing up. As we approach the table of men she pulls herself as upright as possible, navigates the walker to the men's table and in a loud, hearty voice says, "Hello gentlemen.(Kind of like Mae West) Have a nice day!" From there she walks a few more feet and then sits down on her walker seat for me to wheel her back to her apartment.
In a retirement community men are scarce. Walking and talking men are more scarce. Eligible men with potential to be a companion are beyond scarce; they are rare. Several weeks ago a new female resident, Mary, moved in. She was, of course, seated at a table of all women. Mary is energetic, sharp, active, opinionated, and totally mobile. The ladies at her table didn't warm up to her. There was a lot of bickering. And then came a new resident, Richard. Richard is a handsome man, probably in his eighties, He too is upright and mobile. Beyond that he is conversant, rich and - eligible. Mary immediately set out to claim him. I've never seen anyone move as quickly or as expertly as she did. She stood up from her table and announced that she was "moving". With that she picked up her purse and her plate and plopped herself down at Richard's table. She claimed him. She owns him. And that, as they say, was that.
Several years ago my ex-mother-in-law was a resident of this complex. She was 80, suffering from some form of dementia, and totally unaware of her surroundings. She had that "pound puppy" hangdog look. Rarely smiled. Cared little about her appearance and only seemed to come alive when someone brought chocolate. (They say that hearing is the last sense to go...I don't agree...love for chocolate is the last!) She shuffled around in the locked environment and failed to engage in any type of interaction. It was sad. And then she found a boyfriend.
I don't know exactly how they found each other. (He did look a bit like her deceased husband.) He was younger and equally as 'out of it' as she was. But, between them there were sparks. They held hands. Laughed. Talked total nonsense to each other. It was not unusual to see them hug or for him to place a large protective hand on her shoulder. They were together in almost every sense of the word. He belonged to her. And she to him. (And his wife, who had an apartment in Independent Living, did not seem to mind.) This went on for weeks. I watched as my ex mother-in-law regained her spirit, appeared to be joyful and was deeply engaged with her new boytoy. Of course, it didn't last. Dementia is relentless and slowly takes everything away. Eventually they drifted apart. She returned to her sadness and he to his netherworld. BUT they had had their moment. Older woman, younger man and energetic love!
Maybe that's why women find younger men attractive. The old guys, well, let's face it girls, they kind of build nests in their Lazy Boys and fade away. Younger men are active, vital and want to have fun. Older women are active, vital, and want someone to have fun with. Who to choose? Old guy gathering dust in the Lazy Boy or Younger guy willing to go white water rafting or climb Mt. Kilamanjaro with you. Hmmmm. Tough choice. Not.
We're all familiar with our generation's cougar role models. I mean, who among us didn't feel just a twinge of wistfulness when Demi snagged Ashton. Not that Ashton is all that appealing, but still, there was that moment of "How the heck did she do that?". Not "why did she do that" - just "how". Imagine for a moment that Gilles Marini or one of the men's cologne models thinks you're hot. That would be a defining moment. Affirmation that we still 'have it'.Or that we finally "have it". I think, I always want to believe I 'have it'....I just have trouble encountering younger men who see it.
When do women stop hoping to be attractive to men? I'll bet the answer is 'never'. I have excellent reasons to think this way. I spend my mornings in a retirement complex where the pickings are few,the women are hungry, and the hunt never ends.
In the assisted living section of the retirement community, residents are assigned to specific dining tables. Someone in his or her infinite lack of wisdom decided that ladies should sit with ladies and gentlemen with gentlemen. Testosterone here, estrogen there. How tidy.
The lady I take care of is almost 96. She has trouble seeing, walking and generally has difficulty with just about everything. But, the most amazing thing happens when she goes to the dining room. No matter how sick or how weak she feels, she always makes a point to flirt with the men. When a gentleman walks through the dining area she calls out "Good evening Doctor.", "Hello Frank." "Good afternoon Bill." It is amazing to watch. It is amazing in several ways. One, she never calls out to other women. (She cannot remember the names of her tablemates.) Two, she is normally quiet and soft spoken. Seeing a man appears to energize her, helping her to produce a loud, strong, and healthy voice while drawing from her a memory for names that is absent in other contexts.She always remembers the men's names. My favorite moment usually occurs after lunch. I help her from the table and guide her to her walker. She insists on leaving the dining room standing up. As we approach the table of men she pulls herself as upright as possible, navigates the walker to the men's table and in a loud, hearty voice says, "Hello gentlemen.(Kind of like Mae West) Have a nice day!" From there she walks a few more feet and then sits down on her walker seat for me to wheel her back to her apartment.
In a retirement community men are scarce. Walking and talking men are more scarce. Eligible men with potential to be a companion are beyond scarce; they are rare. Several weeks ago a new female resident, Mary, moved in. She was, of course, seated at a table of all women. Mary is energetic, sharp, active, opinionated, and totally mobile. The ladies at her table didn't warm up to her. There was a lot of bickering. And then came a new resident, Richard. Richard is a handsome man, probably in his eighties, He too is upright and mobile. Beyond that he is conversant, rich and - eligible. Mary immediately set out to claim him. I've never seen anyone move as quickly or as expertly as she did. She stood up from her table and announced that she was "moving". With that she picked up her purse and her plate and plopped herself down at Richard's table. She claimed him. She owns him. And that, as they say, was that.
Several years ago my ex-mother-in-law was a resident of this complex. She was 80, suffering from some form of dementia, and totally unaware of her surroundings. She had that "pound puppy" hangdog look. Rarely smiled. Cared little about her appearance and only seemed to come alive when someone brought chocolate. (They say that hearing is the last sense to go...I don't agree...love for chocolate is the last!) She shuffled around in the locked environment and failed to engage in any type of interaction. It was sad. And then she found a boyfriend.
I don't know exactly how they found each other. (He did look a bit like her deceased husband.) He was younger and equally as 'out of it' as she was. But, between them there were sparks. They held hands. Laughed. Talked total nonsense to each other. It was not unusual to see them hug or for him to place a large protective hand on her shoulder. They were together in almost every sense of the word. He belonged to her. And she to him. (And his wife, who had an apartment in Independent Living, did not seem to mind.) This went on for weeks. I watched as my ex mother-in-law regained her spirit, appeared to be joyful and was deeply engaged with her new boytoy. Of course, it didn't last. Dementia is relentless and slowly takes everything away. Eventually they drifted apart. She returned to her sadness and he to his netherworld. BUT they had had their moment. Older woman, younger man and energetic love!
Maybe that's why women find younger men attractive. The old guys, well, let's face it girls, they kind of build nests in their Lazy Boys and fade away. Younger men are active, vital and want to have fun. Older women are active, vital, and want someone to have fun with. Who to choose? Old guy gathering dust in the Lazy Boy or Younger guy willing to go white water rafting or climb Mt. Kilamanjaro with you. Hmmmm. Tough choice. Not.
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