Katie tries to dispute this, but I’m pushing sixty years old. She argues that 55-going-on-56 isn’t on the verge of 60. I make the case that, if you count from 50 to 60, my current age is a lot closer to 60 than it is to 50. In any case, I don’t think I look it, I don’t feel it, and I certainly don’t act it. Truth be told, it’s not something that I think about often. I’m too busy just living life and dealing with things day to day.
Yes, I have issues and yes, they’re affected by aging. They’re not caused by again, though. I’ve had arthritis for decades, and it affects the places where I’ve had injuries. My memory has issues, but thankfully it’s executive function disorder and not dementia. It’s directly traceable to my anxiety disorders.
If you’re wondering what this has to do with living and Finland, well, I thought it was obvious. Given the state of health care in the United States, and the way older people are treated within American culture, I’d rather be here. I’m not afraid of aging in general, but the thought of growing old in America causes me stress. When I do think about aging, this is what I think about.
Where my age smacks me in the face unbidden is when I have to deal with younger people. Ageism is a thing that exists. A lot of it revolves around expectations. No, kid, I don’t listen to the same music you do, but I still have a basic awareness of pop culture. Technology does not baffle me, even if I don’t use the same apps you do. Boomers do in fact suck, and I have more sympathy for your generation getting screwed over than you give me credit for.
All in all, age isn’t something that matters to me. I just want to be treated as my own person, with my own needs, my own likes and dislikes, and my own problems. Pushing sixty is more about how other people see me and behave toward me than it does how I feel about myself.