Category Archives: aging

I found MY “happy pill”!

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I’ve been on antidepressants on and off during most of my adult life. They would keep from getting too negative, but they never really helped me feel much better.

That’s because most prescribed antidepressants are “serotonin agonists”. Serotonin is one of the chemicals produced by the brain’s neurotransmitters that calms anxiety and keeps you from feeling negative and defeatist. A “serotonin agonist” is a substance that mimics the serotonin that your synapses are releasing to add to their effectiveness in instances when they have slowed down. (That is only a layperson’s simplistic description; I am not a doctor or scientist, but I’ve done a lot of reading about the process; a visual example is at the end of this post.)

It seems to me that, just as bodily functions cease to operate at maximum efficiency as we get older (and so we take statins and blood pressure meds etc.), the functions of the brain also slow down as we age. I posit that the lack of enough serotonin available to the aged brain can be the cause of so much of the depression we see in the elderly.

Now, not being depressed is not the same as feeling content and happy. I have discovered, for my purposes, that there is a pill for that.

One of the other chemicals produced by the brain’s neurotransmitters is dopamine, which plays a role in motivation and reward-seeking behavior. And that’s the happy pill: a “dopamine agonist” that helps the neurotransmitters and synapses create the dopamine necessary to have a positive effect on mood.

Now, why aren’t both serotonin agonists and dopamine agonists prescribed together? Actually, only recently, prescriptions like Abilify, which only partially deal with dopamine, are available. But they didn’t really work for me.

So now I take one serotonin agonist and one dopamine agonist.

And now I’m writing more, launched a national petition to improve senior housing,  just organized a Drum Circle at my senior center, and took on a project to write an interview of the author of Turning: The Magic and Mystery of More Days

As promised, here’s a visual of how neurotransmitters work, using dopamine as an example:

 

It might be me.

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I’ve been searching to find out who might be the oldest continuing personal blogger in the U.S.  Not a blogger who hawks services or products or is any kind of influencer.  Rather, a female blogger who posts about her life and times.  My search has yielded no information. I have been blogging since 2001, starting at kalilily.blogspot.com.   Is there any woman out there older than I (84) doing the same thing?

Back in December of 2001, I blogged about why  I started to blog.  It’s worth reprising here:

So, there are some discussions going these days on about the purpose and value of weblogs. Oddly enough, the other night at my bi-monthly group meeting, I mentioned that I had begun a weblog, and I was asked to explain what that was and why I was doing it, and why I just wasn’t keeping a journal. As I’ve said, I’ve unsuccessfully tried keeping journals before and I write so much slower than I think that I got frustrated and quit. I can type almost as fast as I think (I got used to doing that at the job from which I retired last year, which involved mostly whipping out quick documents for others to share and claim as their own.) So, it’s easier to do it on the computer. And why don’t I just keep a journal on disk, I was asked. The truth is, I admitted, is that I’m used to writing for an audience. And I like having an audience. Even my poems are usually written with an audience (sometimes of one) in mind. It’s why I ballroom dance. I’m a performer at heart. I need ways to say to the world: this is who I am. Look at me. Pay attention. It seems to me that that’s at the heart of why everyone else who keeps a blog does so. In a world where we all have to live up to expectations and assume roles for survival purposes (our own and others) — caregiver, mother, employee, citizen — it’s so satisfying to have a place where one can BE who one is. Or in some cases, where one can BE who one wants to BE. It really doesn’t matter. We can create who we want to be or be creative with who we are. Either way, one has an identity, a voice. In a way, it’s kind of a new art form — or at least it can evolve in some cases into such. How cool is that!

 

While I’m Waiting

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While I’m waiting for the signatures on the Improve Senior Housing petition to reach 100, I’m poking around in my old poetry. This from pre-Covid:

The Senior Center Singer

Hair white as winter,
face aligned with 91 years:

Seconds slow to match her
shambling gait secured
with sturdy black cane
and orthopedic shoes
as she moves to the mic
in the room’s easy silence.

As the soft piano tones,
her eyes glow like summer
mornings, bright and vital;
the plains of her face revive
as the clear soprano of her voice
reclaims the joys of Summertime,
recalls when living was easy
and babies hushed to the touch
of her melancholy lullaby.

A Movement Requires Public Visibililty

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It’s not just a matter of writing your government representatives.  Everyone does that for every issue.  You need media attention and a way to get it. We seniors can’t get out and protest, like folks are doing for the environmental  movement; we need another way, and technology offers options.

One way is an online petition, and there is a free site to enable that.  Back in the day, when the Internet was threatened by government, my son and his cronies began a “Hands Off the Net” petition.  Ultimately, they printed out the thousands of names and hand delivered the pages of printout to the appropriate government official.

When we have enough signatures to start, we can see if we can get our local television stations to publicize what we are trying to do. Speaking at senior centers and giving them an onsite chance to sign the petition is another way of generating support.

If you can share the idea with other bloggers, or even share my posts, that could help as well.

To begin an online petition, we need a catchy phrase, like “Survival Isn’t Enough: Better Housing for Seniors.  I’m open to suggestions.

I have joined the online petition site and will start providing the information that it requires.

Again, I’m open to suggestions.  I hope that you will give this some thought.  If we start now, we will be ready when Harris begins her tenure.

 

The Face of Pain

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My mother had passed away at age 94, after a decade of increasing dementia.

         While  Words Fail  
She was gone before she went,
slipping into that final forgetting
with each hollow breath.

I was her angel, she said
as she sat at the sunny table
picking at pancakes and coffee
while she still could smile
and think meaning.

Music kept her eyes alive
awhile, her feet remembering
thoughtless, but certain of rhythms
too deliberate to disappear.
She followed my familiar lead,
reaching for memories lost
with the fading of voice.

She didn’t believe in demons,
but I saw them slip inside her skin,
forcing pain from her pores,
folding her face in caverns
of anguish and alarm,
as, steadily, words fled, leaving
a frightened keening in their wake.

She was gone before she went,
and when she went, the world
filled again with words.

(elf 2020)

Leaping into Elderhood

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The only podcast to which I listen is “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me” on NPR.  It makes me laugh, and I always learn some little known, but intriguing facts.

For example, I just learned that a recent study shows that we do not age slowly; rather we age in leaps.  The first leap is at age 44; the second at 60.  They need to add one more leap and that’s at 80.

When I reached 80, my knees went and I had to have one replaced.  The other is still iffy.  Then my hips and back started aching and now I have an appointment at the pain management office because my lumbar spine is in constant pain. Of course, the “where the hell did I put my phone” syndrome is right on target as well.

Theoretically, the next leap would be at 100.  If I last that long, it will be very short leap to “can someone please adjust my pillows?” and “Please up the morphine.”

 

 

 

 

Life’s Third Act

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Jane Fonda, who is exactly my age, has given any number of talks about life’s “third act”, which, as in theatre, is the last act of a production.  Billionaires like Fonda have the financial resources to live in a comfortable environment, meet their health requirements, and hire whomever they want to take care of whatever other physical needs they have.  But most of today’s elders are trying to figure out how to play out their last acts in more than just survival mode.

Even Fonda is confronting the problem of feeling isolated and extraneous as the major activities that gave her previous two acts meaning, purpose, and community slowly disappear.  Still in relatively good health, Fonda has taken to being an activist for various issues that are important to her as a way of continuing to feel useful and connected.  Good for her.

But what about the rest of those middle class retired seniors who struggle with feeling isolated and purposeless because of health issues, lack of financial resources, and inadequate living conditions.

Under these circumstances, what are their choices for how they perform in this last act of their lives?  How we elders live depends and awful lot on where we live, and our choices are limited.

I am fortunate that I live in my own rooms in my daughter’s house.  We are three generations in this house:  my daughter and son-in-law, my grandson, and me.  I contribute financially each month to offset the my share of the costs of utilities, phone, cable and streaming television, and food etc. I’m responsible for my breakfast and lunch food, and my daughter cooks dinners for all of us.  Luckily for me, my daughter is a born caregiver and my son-in-law is an easy-going guy.  He even does the dishes.  I am one of the fortunate ones.

A recent post on theseniorlog.com links to an article on the growing trend of intergenerational living. At its best, intergenerational living

brings together people of all ages in an environment that encourages interaction, socialization and activities that are beneficial for all.

But many families, for various reasons, can’t pull this off.  As reported in the Jesuit Review

Many of us in the current generation of senior citizens also must cope with our family members’ living far away. According to a study from 2019, about one-quarter of Americans live more than 30 miles from their nearest parent or adult child, but that share is higher for college-educated individuals, who often move away from their hometowns to pursue their careers. Migration has always existed to some extent, but until recently, when families migrated, they often included adult children, grandparents, cousins, nieces or nephews. The current ease of transportation and communications has actually resulted in limited, non-physical connections for a significant portion of society.

It has also destroyed much of family life. Family elders may end up removed from close contact or routine communication with younger members of their clan.

So, what are the other housing options for playing out your last act? You can either “age in place” or pay enormous fees to live in an assisted living facility — both of which come with their own major problems.

Assisted living monthly fees run from $3000 a month to over $10,000 a month, depending on the level of services you will get.  One place I found online — an innovative and progressive living situation for elders that offers individual cottages and apartments in a community-based setting — does not even bother providing information about cost on their website.

Aging in place is also not as good an answer as you might think, either.  According to a an article on Housewire ,

Aging in place is seen as a leading “social barrier“ to healthy aging in America in 2024, according to a new survey conducted by Alignment Health. The survey was first reported by McKnights Senior Living.

“As more seniors choose to live independently and longer in their own homes, aging in place brings its own set of challenges: nearly seven out of 10 consider aging in place a top social barrier to their health and well-being,” the organization said of its survey findings.

I don’t know if the new administration is prepared to tackle the issues that are preventing most elders from having a successful Last Act.  Maybe we all need to band together somehow (like the supporters of reproductive rights) and organize some sort of protest. How about our rights to live before we die? I wonder if Jane Fonda might be interested in taking the lead.

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My son Bix tells me that blogs are back.  This blog never really went away; I just did.

The odd combination depression and the peculiarities of my personality negated any effort at creativity.  I just wanted to sleep; nothing caught my fancy.  But ending my brief (1 1/2 years) relationship and getting on more effective meds did the trick.  (I think that he ultimately hoped for companionship, while I hoped only for a final romantic adventure.  We were both disappointed).

But now blogging is back, my son says.  And because mine has never gone away, many of  my posts still get read when somebody googles a topic about which I posted.  For example, my son recently posted this:

Tfw you’re googling for what was in the Greedy Bastard at Mad Dog in the Fog and on the first page of results is a blog post by my mom referencing one of my own where I talk about heading down to an antiwar protest that I have no memory of attending.

That referenced post of mine was from October 2002.  Yup.  Once something can be caught by google, it’s there for eternity. It’s one way of getting a feeling of leaving some kind of legacy, I guess.

It’s almost October, and if I look back in this blog, I find that October is when I come to life creatively.  I am looking back on my life in general quite a bit these days — finally recognizing the times that I was my own worst enemy.

There is much to write about these days.  I wish it were 20 years ago and I could be back with those folks in the old blogging community and get into those ongoing conversations we would have about life, the universe, and everything.

But that’s OK.  I’ll just continue here anyway, because when I talk to myself, I tell the truth.

 

Wiser Than Me

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Julia Louis Dreyfus is doing a podcast called “Wiser Than Me”, interviewing elder women about their lives and their attitudes toward aging.

After unclenching my teeth over the grammatical error in the title (the correct wording is “wiser than I”), I tuned in to the first two sessions with Jane Fonda and Isabel Allende.  The secret to having a successful “old age”, according to those octogenarians, has to do with good health and enough money.  Duh. Aren’t those things at the basis of every comfortable life, no matter what your age?

What has enabled these two women to truly enjoy this final chapter of their lives is their passion for what they love to do.  For Fonda, it’s activism and acting;  for Allende it’s writing and her recent remarriage.

Fonda has opted to live alone, deciding that she would rather not have to be nude in front of anyone at this point in her life.  She has let her hair go gray and wishes that she had not opted to go the plastic surgery route. Her friendship with women is most important to her at this stage of her life, as is her activism on behalf of saving the planet from fossil fuels and other pollutants.

Allende, on the other hand, is still comfortable with her sexuality (she remarried three years ago) and spends most of her time writing, which is her passion and purpose.  She says that she writes because she has to and loves the process.

Both consider themselves feminists and live their creative lives with that as an underlying philosophy.

Listening to these two women talk about their lives, past and current, I envy their passion and purpose.  Somewhere during the pandemic, I lost touch with mine, and I’m still floundering around, trying to recreate myself.  Maybe I can get inspired by continuing to listen to these podcasting women, who are so much wiser than I am.

 

I Miss Having a Tribe

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There is no specific definition for a tribe because each tribe is unique in some way. They generally may be a group of related individuals, but one tribe may have a different purpose or different practices than another.

As a child, my tribe was my extended Polish family. In high school, my tribe was my group of close friends. In college, my tribe was my sorority. In the job I held for more than 20 years, my tribe was comprised of the women in my office. Also, as an adult, I was a part of two socially active tribes: a group of five women kindred spirits, and a larger ballroom dance community.  In each case, creativity was valued and nurtured.

According to Psychology Today, joining a group and finding our “tribe” can improve our happiness and emotional resilience.

1. Belonging to a group and feeling identified with those in that group is an important aspect of our identity and sense of self. In fact, having a strong sense of group identity can actually help buffer us when we feel wronged or attacked…..

2. Our group identity often gives us a sense of common purpose around the pursuit of common goals…..

3. We are not only more likely to get support from people within our “tribe,” but we are likely to experience their support as more valuable and more meaningful. This happens because we believe fellow “tribe members” are more likely to truly “get” how we feel so their support and validation resonates on a deeper level than support offered by those who are not members of our “tribe.”

For various reasons, I have been unable to find my tribe, mostly because: I am not a morning person, I don’t drive at night, I do not subscribe to any specific political party, I am limited physically by the effects of arthritis, and I moved to a town that has limited creative opportunities.

What I really miss is being in the company of women who are kindred spirits.

For a time pre-Covid, when I organized an afternoon writing group of elders, I was able to generate a sense of community for myself. After six years, the pandemic and other circumstances brought an end to that tribe. I do not have the energy to try to start another writing group.

I have tried some activities at the senior center that were not scheduled for the early morning, but I just didn’t “click” with the offerings or the people. I could not get over the feeling of being an outsider.

I fear that it’s just too late in my life to find the wherewithall to create another tribe, and I can’t seem to find an existing one that matches my values, interests, and needs.

Mostly, I really miss being part of a group of female kindred spirits.