I will be turning sixty-five years old in less than a month and I am not ashamed to say that I am on high freak out mode.  I am overwhelmed by the turning of the calendar pages and reaching senior citizen status.  I read a recent article about what kind of exercise we are supposed to take part in when we reach our sixth decade.  The blog said that we should do light aerobic exercise like gardening for thirty minutes.  I threw that article away and thought about my last five mile run at an intense pace while listening to loud rock and soul music.

They say your energy level is supposed to decrease as you age and get ready for retirement.  Hell, my energy level is like someone half my age and there is not enough time in the day to complete what I want to accomplish.  I am a therapist in full time private practice dealing with grief, anger and divorce.  I am enlightened and exhausted by this work.  I feel a huge reward when I actually help folks find understanding that has eluded them for most of their lives.

They say that our sexual energy is supposed to decline as you age.  That one isn’t true for me either.  I feel as sexual as I did when I was a teenager.  What is wrong with me?  Aren’t we supposed to be slowing down when the Medicare card arrives and social security check is mailed out?

When my wife of almost forty-four years and I go to parties, we witness many folks our age and younger being sedentary the entire event while we are out on the floor dancing the night away.  Recently a woman came up to my wife and asked her if we could teach her how to “get down”

Yes, my hair is falling out, my beard getting grayer. My eye sight is declining and short-term memory is losing steam.

I love to write, drum, play the guitar and teach a class at my wife’s school called Keeping it Real with Feelings.

I have always been politically active, but it seems like I have been going to demonstrations at a record rate.  I am angry about the greed that has taken over the country and the hatred of all who are not white/ rich.  At times I find connection and solace in my rage.  At other times I wonder if this outrage isn’t a self-destructive curse that will sideline me someday.

There seems to be a sense of urgency that didn’t exist a few years ago.  The need to make a difference in the world has never been more crucial.  The desire to hear all music that may move me as soon as possible has intensified. I want to capture all the funny and amazing experiences I have with my friends and family.  The need to tell my wife something wonderful or terrible that happened each day is also ramped up. I want my eyes to take a photo of these scenes and make them available for my eternal viewing pleasure.   Maybe this phenomenon is occurring because I know that I only have thirty years’ tops to live out all my dreams and I haven’t even imagined them all yet.

I start to cry when I realize I am living on borrowed time. Maybe we are all living on borrowed time.  My father died when he was fifty-six years old.  He never had the choices I have to select from.  He never lived to see retirement or to make his mark on the world.  I sometimes feel guilty when I think that I have outlived him by nine years. Then I think about how his hard work made it possible for me to succeed.  He showed me the importance of the love of family and being disciplined.

I almost died in 2009 when the electrical system in my heart stopped and I was dead for a little while.  I have been blessed with seven years of added life thanks to a heart pacemaker and the support of my family/friends.  Mostly I am still alive because of the love from my wife Gail.  Her very essence gave me a reason to live.  To gracefully age is to be grateful and I am that.

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