The other day, I was laughing with a friend over coffee about living long enough to experience the whole lifecycle. The conversation included going from diapers to diapers, which is what we usually hear. Still, we also agreed on similarities between being a baby or small child and being on the last leg of life.

We laughed not because it was so funny but because it was true.

Think of the good ole bell curve with a prominent rounded peak tapering off each side—one end being birth and the other death. In the lifecycle, the middle of the bell curve involved “doing”— building a career, raising kids, keeping a house and yard, etc. The birth end of the tapered bell included tons of “learning.” I am finding the opposite end; the last segment of life involves a combination of “unlearning” and “undoing.”

For example, as a kid, I was expected to be quiet and not ask questions, and at the same time, praised and encouraged to talk, walk, and ride a bike. Confusing. As I get older, the confusion returns. I am just who I’ve always been, but I sense, as an aging senior, that I am supposed to be quiet, compliant, and dependent. What? And it happened so fast. Being older reverses what I learned during previous decades. I learned to make decisions, set goals, and be independent and self-sufficient. As a senior, again, am I supposed to be seen and not heard and ask permission or get various forms of disapproval? The voice I worked hard to develop now gets me in trouble. I wobble walking, and riding a bike is self-forbidden.

As a kid, if I did something to upset my mom or dad, I got paddled and learned what not to do. Today, with many more than two parents, I can get in trouble and not exactly know what I did wrong and, therefore, do it again.

I’m not sure why I’m surprised at the aging process, but experiencing what I learned about aging in my studies and career has a different reality now that it’s ME. The lifecycle does involve the mystery of being dependent, then independent, and then dependent again.

Whatever your experience, it is valid. Life does not stay the same. Somewhere along the path, it just happens, and we adapt.

The good thing is we are here to talk, laugh, and cry about it. Thank goodness! We’ve experienced life and are still here.

As life changes, I find comfort and enjoyment in hanging out with friends who can relate—I accept my apparent limitations, but I’m not dead yet, so I still want to be encouraged to talk, walk, and ride a bike.

Until the next time: Live while you live.

Jennifer Goble, Ph.D., LPC, is the author of “My Clients…My Teachers,” and the blogger and writer of Rural Women Stories: www.ruralwomenstories.com.

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