Aging into Average

September 2023

I remembered to call the eye doctor’s office to schedule my annual exam before my contact lens supply ran out because I am on top of things!

The admin was friendly and pleasant as she ran down her list of standard questions, confirming my address, phone number, and finally she asked, “do you have a vision plan?” Yes, I declared confidently, Delta Dental. There was a pause before she asked again, “but do you have a vision plan?” It was my turn to pause as the wheels turned in my head. It clicked. I laughed and she laughed, I gave her the correct information and joked that my next call would be to the neurologist. 

I am the eldest daughter in the most stereotypical way. I was an A student. Teachers wrote that I was “a pleasure” to have in class. I performed in dance recitals, with the high school choir, and in school plays. I have anxiety, I am responsible, independent, and vigilant. 

My brain has always been sharp, my memory impressive. For years, I never wrote down homework assignments…I just…remembered them. Page numbers, essay topics, due dates. I couldn’t imagine the information not just automatically stored in my brain, and easily accessed whenever I wanted it. 

Memory is both an advantage of neurotypical youth and a learned skill. As a theater major in college, I was constantly memorizing lines for scene work in classes and plays. I had to memorize a lot of dialogue, and quickly, over and over again. I recall a moment during my junior year when I was studying with the British American Drama Academy in London when I realized I had read a block of lines 2 or 3 times and they were already memorized. I was at the top of my game. 

As years passed, all of that changed. My desk was suddenly littered with lists. If I didn’t write it down, it wouldn't exist. I had handwritten notes, digital notes, and would transcribe lists from one to the other. Post-it notes on the door. Live and die by my Outlook calendar!

What had happened? Was I out of practice? Had all of the late nights of too many drinks and joints eaten away at my brain cells? Maybe, but find one adult who doesn’t experience this.

I wasn’t concerned. I was still incredibly, painfully responsible. I pre-plan, I research the menu, the parking situation, the weather forecast, and traffic trends. I think about everyone’s needs and preferences. I want to arrive fully prepared, no surprises, no winging it. Arriving at the airport with an expired passport is INCONCEIVABLE to me. I check and double check. I get my car’s annual inspection done during the first week of the month it will expire. I am insufferable.

But now in my forties I’m becoming far more aware of all the effort that goes into all this mental planning. Aware because it requires more. It used to be automatic and now it makes me tired. Things are slipping.

The timing makes sense:

COVID lockdown landed the week after my 40th birthday. Focusing during those days of constant, gnawing anxiety took a herculean effort.

A year later my dream job dissolved and I ended up in a new job that was corporate insanity. Zoom meetings back to back and sometimes double booked all day, all the while responding to Teams messages and emails all while trying to squeeze in my actual work. At the end of each day I felt like I’d been spit out of a dryer that was tumbling adrenaline and stress. There’s a reason the experts warn us away from multitasking. I was crumbling.

At the same time, my relationship was ending. I was heartbroken and at an incredible low. I was so, so tired. My body, my brain. During the darkest months, I felt like my brain was broken. I was stumbling around in a fog. 

And I am the age when perimenopause and the havoc it can wreak on your hormones begins creeping in.

What a perfect storm. Of course my brain and memory don’t function like they did when I was 20.

But instead of panicking, I am leaning all the way in. In a way, it’s freedom.

I give up! Someone else has to be the super-prepared responsible one now. I’ve kept it all together for years, a perfect neat little package with my wants and needs tucked away tightly in the corner, out of anyone’s way. I was prepared and organized for the convenience of everyone else. I wanted people to view me as smart and capable and an asset to their organization and to their lives.

And now I just can’t do it anymore. I am loosening the reins on myself. I’m going to live bigger, be a little messier, and hopefully, have more fun. I’m going to laugh when I make silly little mistakes. Sometimes they may be big and more serious. I finally understand that I am not required to be perfect and perfectly efficient. That drive in me is all used up. And knowing me, I’ll still be pretty damn on point.

I was discussing my impending cognitive decline with a girlfriend who is a lot like me. She told me she had been so alarmed at the change in her memory that she went to the doctor for a referral for a formal evaluation. She dutifully completed hours of testing and was told that she had an excellent memory, especially for a woman her age. She was dumbfounded and explained that she felt she had  noticed such a sudden decline. The doctor said that it was even more impressive if her current state was declined, because she is still top tier. I spent a moment agog and then burst into laughter. This was so affirming.

My friend and I realized together - we are simply becoming average. 

Aging, hormones, whatever cocktail it is, has pushed us forward to finding relief. We have graduated from the years of people pleasing and performing and over-caring and overworking and now we can just be regular, imperfect people.