The most challenging thing I’ve ever done was to accept I was old.
Even though I was on Social Security and Medicare and was 68, I resisted. I clung to middle age like a drowning man clings to a life preserver. I refused to be categorized as old and subjected to ageism. I didn’t want to think about living wills and advanced directives. I didn’t want to consider making preparations for my death — how depressing.
Lightning struck at 68 when my therapist asked me if I wanted to join a seniors group she led. My ears were ringing when I left that therapy session. I did not want to join that group.