I’m only good at being young

There was an old woman standing in line ahead of me. She had white hair, liver spots on her hands, a faraway look on her face. She was holding on to her Senior’s Citizen card, waiting for the cashier to punch in her discounted purchases.

Then it hit me. I was freaking scared. I am freaking scared of growing old.

It’s not about the liver spots. It’s not about the white hair (I have lots of that already, darn it). It’s the thought that someday I will be helpless, frail, in need of someone to hold me up if needed. I am so damn freaking scared.

Please to remove my white hair?

Dramatic much? Being anxious about old age is natural, but it never hit me this hard until now. There’s the fact that I have a son. Can what I am doing for a living now sustain him till he graduates from college? Who will watch him if ever I go early? Who will take care of my husband? If I live till my eighties, who will take care of me?

I can either continue being freaked out or do something about this anxiety. I admit I border between feeling terrified and anxious. It doesn’t help that I’ve been in a little valley of semi-depression the past week. Seeing that old woman just propelled me to getting cold feet about old age.

Let me wallow in self-misery under these sheets.

Maybe I can find the fountain of youth. But since that doesn’t exist, maybe I can just resolve to do the best I can out of the present and not think so much about the future. That’s what optimists do, right?

I voiced out my concerns to my husband, and he said, “If you think you’ll be frail in old age, maybe it’s because you think you’re frail today.”

WHOMP.

Smack in the face with those words. Nail right on the head. Total friggin’ sense. He then gave me advice on getting back in shape and stuff like that, but I was still stuck on that line.

“Maybe you think you’re frail today.”

Because he’s right. I do think I’m frail.

So what’s a frail woman to do? Kick life in the butt. Or maybe it’s the other way. Kick more freaking butt in life.

After a week of wallowing in sadness and abundant self-pity, I’ll try another approach this week. Maybe I’ll work out. Maybe I’ll make some calls. Maybe I’ll stop worrying so much about growing old so I don’t miss out on the present. That doesn’t sound so hard to do now, does it?

“I’ve got confidence in sunshine. I’ve got confidence in rain.” – Froline Maria

Even optimists have their bad days. After all, how would you know what makes you happy if you don’t know what makes you sad? Or maybe we just need to take some steps back in order to know how to move forward best. There’s wishing and wanting but then there’s doing.

But enough with the philosophical chinwag. I have frailty issues so I must do something about this. Like not getting freaking scared about growing old.

The first step: I’m going to have my hair coloured. Let’s start with getting rid of all those damn white hair. Whatever the next steps are, I’m sure they’ll be steps forward. I’ll make sure I don’t land in another puddle of self-pity. Life’s too precious to wallow in puddles.

Title of post is a line from John Mayer’s song “Stop This Train.” Listen to the song here or click “play” below. So good.

Credits: Photo: “Just a little off the top….” by Keven Law, c/o Flickr. Some Rights Reserved Photo: “neighbors – betty” by Emily, c/o Flickr. Some Rights Reserved Photo: “So frail” by Mattias Barthel, c/o Flickr. Some Rights Reserved.

Hi! I'm Toni Tiu, and I've been blogging at at Wifely Steps since 2003. This started as a blog to help newly weds adjust to married life. It has evolved into a home and parenting blog. I write about things close to my heart -- good eats, good reads, family, marriage, and the little things that make everyday happy.