Turning 70 Shouldn't Be Stressful
I feel content, despite a few unexpected complications along the way
Last August, I turned 70, after months of ballooning stress and hopeless resistance to my approaching "big number" and its implication for my health and longevity. A cousin in my mother's family emailed, "Turning 70 is a very big, life-changing event." Gee, thanks — the opposite of the message I hoped for.
In addition, I was struggling with a health problem that needed attention. As my birthday approached, my anxiety went through the ceiling, and I felt almost cursed to have lived so long ("This is my punishment for outliving my friends and relatives," I mused.)
Rather than a total disaster, we had experienced one of our best times.
In a confluence of circumstances, my partner and I were forced to spend part of my birthday at my medical clinic, after which we walked to the popular Tex-Mex restaurant we had chosen — and had a wonderful time. It was exactly what we needed.
To my amazement, the Big Day was a great success in achieving our goals: my new status of age 70, and my partner's improved health. Rather than a total disaster, we had experienced one of our best times. I watched the beautiful sunset at our nearby lake, followed by two hours of my favorite TV show, and went to sleep with a smile on my face.
On Day Two of my 70th year, I awoke well rested and happy, which seemed unreal. I truly felt great! Of course, we had survived my date with destiny (and my partner's, too) and everything else began to look and feel much better.
At my local Starbucks, the barista who serves me asked, "So, how was your big birthday?" "Great!" I replied. "We had a wonderful day." She smiled, offering a generic, "Have a good day." Sometimes, it works.
Now I feel liberated from the persistent stigma of "getting old." I feel young and vibrant (sort of). In these few months, I've seen that no one cares how old I am - except my primary care provider, with his reminders about "fall prevention" and shingles shots (not to disparage their importance.) I feel younger and freer than I have since the stigmatizing age of 65.
And no one sent me condolences such as "You'll get a lot discounts." I have them already.
Fixing a Problem
And I fixed an ongoing problem I have with Post-It Notes. I realized that as soon as I decide to do something, rather than adding it to a cramped Post-it Note or creating a new one, it's much better to do it ASAP or drop the idea. That is the choice: procrastination is fatal to plans.
Had I known that being 70 would feel much better than 68 or 69, I would have done this much sooner.
How many things have I put off and never done? Lots. If I cannot remember to do something, it probably was not important, and therefore does not deserve to be recorded on a small piece of yellow (or blue or pink or green) paper.
I asked myself, "Did Beethoven write a Post-It note every night before he went to bed, such as: "Finish second movement of new String Quartet in E minor; write Adagio for third Symphony; talk to Johann about rent, write to Uncle for more money; trip to Prague..." No, Ludwig did not do that, nor did anyone else in those days. And they didn't Google: "How to write an adagio."
Wisdom from a 70-year-old: Do one thing at a time, finish it now and trust your memory. It's still there, even if it seems to be on vacation. Memory is better than a thousand Post-Its.
Yesterday I walked around the nearby lake for several hours, and it felt great. Why did I think that being 70 would be so bad? It was an irrational fear of the future. Had I known that being 70 would feel much better than 68 or 69, I would have done this much sooner.
A Shoe Dropped
However, fast-forward several months and I've had a few setbacks. I began to panic about my obsession with neatness; my old neurotic behavior of arranging small items in perfect order. Self-talk: relax; it doesn't matter if they're reasonably organized and I can find them. I think this points to a deeper insecurity and will investigate it.
And apparently, turning 70 didn't liberate me from problems at work — why would it? About a month ago, I was shocked to open an email from the HR department at the school where I work with information about a procedural incident report that is unfair and inaccurate, threatening to remove me from the substitute list.
"Wait a minute," I thought, "I'm 70 now, right? This isn't supposed to happen. I'm supposed to be past these disturbing bumps in the road, correct?" Nope, apparently not; I spent 3 weeks addressing the issues with my union rep, and we had a virtual meeting with an HR manager – the outcome is still unclear.
Fast-forward several months and I've had a few setbacks.
On top of this, I'm coping with ringing in my ears, loss of control over daily meals and hassles with payroll over back pay. To complete the witches' brew, there's been a bit of "normal" relationship stress due to misunderstandings, unexpected changes, irregular sleep caused by very disturbing news reports, and everything else that troubled me before I turned 70.
So why did it feel so good for the first few days? Maybe I like round numbers, or numbers that end with zero. Or maybe each new decade brings a delightful "honeymoon" period, and mine is over.
At least I can look forward to turning 80 (if I survive) and will that feel great, too? Yes: many of my 80-plus neighbors are skiing, hiking and traveling more than they have in decades. So, I'll keep the faith.
Art Segal has been a published writer since 1994, with his About Men essay in The NY Times Magazine. He’s written personal essays and features for Seattle Weekly and The Seattle Globalist in recent years, and is a contributor to School Transportation News. He was born in 1952 and grew up in N.J., lived in New York City for 25 years and moved to Seattle in 1999. He has worked for Seattle Public Schools since 2010. Read More
