My inbox had an email titled Visualize future versions of you: 5, 10, 30 plus years out. (1) I'm not keen on picturing myself in 20 or 30 years. The idea is pretty daunting. At 107, I could resemble a character from Night of the Living Dead.
In my fantasies, in 20 years I’d like to see myself playing tennis, like our spry 96-year-old neighbor. Except I never played tennis and I’m guessing now is probably not a good time to start.
Or I could imagine myself like the 98-year-old featured in our community magazine who has taken 68 courses at nearby Stanford University, except unlike the man in the magazine, whose drive to Stanford is 3 minutes, our local university is a 45-minute drive, and it is definitely not Stanford.
Or I could imagine myself dancing the night away at concerts like my 92-year-old neighbor. Now that’s a fun thought. But I’m scared my achy-breaky body might not hold out. I know I can keep my body moving longer with exercise, but each year it seems to be able to do less and to stiffen more.
I’d like to think I can stay active and will still have all of my capabilities. I’ve always been a fan of Dylan Thomas’ Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night:
"Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
I’ve always been a fighter – raging to get back into the swing of things when I had an illness or injury. But recently as I told my friend, I’m beginning to question the wisdom of always being a fighter. I need to accept temporary setbacks with grace as practice for when I have major setbacks. I need to balance the fighter in me that hits the gym and skips desserts with the reality of aging. My hearing is already fading. At least we have modern medicine to help or replace failing body parts.
Looking ahead five or ten years isn’t too scary. I’ve been writing anecdotes about the cats we’ve had throughout the years and want to turn them into a book. Hopefully, I’d even sell a few copies. You’ll buy one, won’t you? Maybe that will launch me into a new career. But I noticed most of the cat books are children’s books. A children’s book might be faster to write than a full book, I’ll just have to learn how to draw cats.
I’ve started ukulele lessons. Maybe in 5 or 10 years, I’ll strum like Jake Shimabukuro (hear him playing Bohemian Rhapsody and Eleanor Rigby - amazing!). Playing folk songs on the ukulele in college was easy, but it’s trickier in your 70s with arthritis. And it’s good for my brain. Johns Hopkins calls participating in music a total brain workout. It’s a total hand workout, too. My fingertips are constantly sore. The instructor says I’ll develop callouses in time and they won’t be so sore. I guess that only happens if you practice regularly. The lessons are fun. This week we learned Lemon Tree, a 60s Peter, Paul, and Mary song, and King of the Road, a Roger Miller song. But I’m not ready for Prime Time.
Looking ahead 10 years doesn’t seem too bad. I might have more time for some of my favorite hobbies like crocheting. I’ll be like my grandmother, rocking away and making afghans.
When I think of myself in 20 years, it’s scary to think I’ll lose my independence. What will happen when I can no longer drive? What will happen if I have to rely on someone to help me shower?
I know people who don’t want to live to be 90 or 100. Since some of the people who say this are active and healthy, I ask why they say that. They either aren’t sure or they don’t want to live life if they lose their capabilities.
After all this worrying, I finished the article. Turns out, it’s written for 40 or 50-somethings and written by a financial planning firm called New Retirement. I thought New Retirement meant "newly retired." They claim visualizing your future self helps with planning and decision-making. It might work for us too, but there are fewer options at our stage, and it can be scary.
So, if you get something similar in your inbox, beware! It might lead you down a rabbit hole of self-reflection to places where you’d rather not go.
References
Kathleen Coxwell, Make Friends with Your Future Self to Achieve the Life You Want, New Retirement.com, June 29, 2023
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