Planning - Contemplating the Future
As I sit in a quiet corner, a cup of herbal tea cradled between my palms, I find myself musing over questions that may be familiar to many women at my stage of life. Mine seem to have been crafted from the fabric of my experiences and the looming unknowns that color my future. There’s an undeniable uncertainty surrounding the years ahead; a blend of excitement and trepidation; a delicate dance between hope and uncertainty.
How long will I live?
If you’d asked me that in my earlier years, I would have responded with absolute certainty, that mine would be a life ending at 32. Imagine then how shocked I was to turn 33…Then 34… 35, and so on!
Longevity is a question that hangs in the air, as liquid as the tea that fills my cup. My father passed at age 59 (I’m 57). My brother at 69. My mother is still going strong at 84.
The average life expectancy seems to stretch like a rubber band when it comes to our generation; we’re riddled with cancer, but outlasting generations before. Medicine plays an undeniable tole, as does staying active and eating well. But what for those, with longevity genes that only come from one side of the family, and a tendency to prefer gin to gym?
I can’t help but wonder about the quality of the years before me... Will they be filled with vitality, or will they become a slow march towards frailty and a bed in a rest home? The thought often sparks a desire to cram as much as possible into every second of each waking hour in case my ‘grains of rice’ suddenly run out!
Will I be healthy?
Do you recall that song Doris Day sang long ago? ‘…Will I be pretty? Will I be rich? Here’s what she said to me… Que sera sera… whatever will be will be…’ That’s certainly my mother’s approach to aging. She stuffs herself with all the naughty foods, but remains 50kg (or thereabouts). She’s living a rich, full life, travelling, working, socializing... Yet, I also witness a slowing down and gradual acceptance that her body is no longer keeping up.
I’ve had periods of chronic fatigue, and loss of mobility in past. It makes me reflect on my choices and their long-term impacts, but it’s about more than just physical health! Mental and emotional well-being has come very much to the fore now that I’ve started carving my own path through the Autumn years. I’ve come to appreciate that staying socially connected, pursuing passions, and nurturing relationships are just as essential for my longevity and happiness as eating well and trying to take-5 out of my obsession for work. It’s a delicate balance and I admit that I’m still learning, but there are plenty of mentors around me that are showing me how it’s done.
The specter of ‘losing my memory’ haunts me. I sometimes misplace my keys or mix up names, and I wonder if that’s just a part of aging or a precursor to something more alarming. I recall the stories of women who faced the debilitating effects of Alzheimer’s or dementia. They remind me of the importance of mental engagement. I stay busy, learn new skills, and indulge in activities that challenge my thinking. In a way, I feel like I am building a fortress of new memories to protect my mind; a treasure chest to hold the fragments of my life experiences and ensure they remain vibrant until the end.
How Long will I Work?
This question feels intertwined with my identity. For many, the transition into retirement can feel abrupt, as if some invisible force yanks away purpose. For me, work is a creative outlet to keep my mind active and engaged. There’s also that inconvenient fact that I need to keep earning, as I certainly don’t have enough to sustain me until ‘The End’!
Questions around budgeting, healthcare costs, and unexpected expenses linger, although I so find solace in knowing I have zero debt. That’s a big thing when facing eventual full retirement, so I keep credit cards away from my reach and only buy what I can afford.
Where will I live?
I’ve come to terms with the fact that I can not live in either Australia or New Zealand. I need to be somewhere less expensive, where I can afford a small base to call ‘home’. I’d certainly underestimated the importance of this for my emotional wellbeing, so it’s the sole focus for me in the coming two years.
After such a lengthy and intense period of travel, I yearn for a small cottage, with chooks and a food garden. Somewhere I can paint, write and reflect, neighbors I can laugh with, and being part of a community where I am valued simply for being for me.
How will I Die?
Quickly I hope! Not alone is my second request. It’s the end game so few of us dare speak aloud, as if the very mention of death may attract the attention of the Fates and their razor sharp scissors.
Today, I handed my children cartons filled with their personal belongings and instructed them to ‘… cremate me in that oak dowry chest your grandfather made. Then sprinkle my ashes in the billabong so I can become part of the forest before joining up with the sea.’
But HOW, and WHERE and WHY will I pass? Those questions remain up in the air.
As I sip my (now cold) tea, I realize that while these questions weigh heavily, they also inspire a deeper introspection about how to embrace the present. The future may be uncertain, but with each question asked, I am reminded of how the choices I make today, will shapes the day I will experience tomorrow.
Ultimately, it’s not about worrying over what lies ahead; it’s about celebrating every moment I have been granted today.
