Aging in a Difficult World

We're supposed to be wise. But what do we really know?

Recently Adrianna* started a therapy session saying that she was glad, for once, that she was old. “I don’t know what kind of world this is going to be in twenty or thirty years,” she commented. “But I’m glad that I’m not going to be here to see it.”

I was momentarily shocked into silence, not by the sentiment, but by the fact that Adrianna was saying it. She is in her seventies, and one of the most active and energetic women I know. Her comment, with its tinge of hopelessness, distressed me since it was so out of character for her. But a friend had recently told me the same thing.

In that moment, I felt that despite my years as a psychotherapist and more years just being a human being, I had no wisdom to offer this bright, lively, older woman who was suddenly feeling hopeless about navigating the world we both live in.

At my age, I’m supposed to be a wise therapist, a wise woman, a wise mother, friend, and mentor. But these days I seldom feel wise. My friends and I are working our way through aging without a map or a guide, in a world that is unlike anything we’ve experienced. Wars, climate change, drugs, political turbulence, starvation, poverty, senseless shootings, out of control prejudices, and more fill the news and stir up greater and greater anxiety.

My work involves helping clients find new perspectives on old, problematic patterns of behavior and thought. But now, all of us—clients, family, colleagues, acquaintances, and friends—were trying to find a way of understanding an experience we never imagined we’d encounter. Early in the pandemic, I offered online support groups for other therapists. I was older than many, and already somewhat experienced with online platforms, as I’d worked remotely with several clients for a few years. But as I told each group, we were meeting for mutual support. None of us knew more about making our way through the terrors of a pandemic than anyone else.

With Adrianna, as with these colleagues in the early days of the pandemic, I had no pearls of wisdom to offer.  

As I write this now, however, I find myself thinking that’s not completely true. I’m realizing that what my peers and I have to offer is a redefinition of wisdom. Being older and more experienced doesn’t make us smarter or better able to manage this messed-up, hot world around us. For example, I watch in awe as my son and daughter-in-law parent in ways I wish I had thought of when I was their age. I listen to clients who find solutions to problems that have eluded me.

A recent article in the Harvard Business Review tells us that multigenerational workplaces hold an important key to successful business practices these days. But, the authors suggest, the different generations have to be taught how to work together.

One of the tools for nurturing these relationships is what they call “two-way, mutual mentoring.” In other words, recognizing that workers in different age groups have different knowledge, or wisdom, and encouraging the sharing of this knowledge in all directions, is a key to a healthy work environment.

During and post the pandemic many articles were written for therapists about how we can do our work when we are sharing the same trauma that our clients are struggling with.  Where do we find soothing reflections when we are also frightened, worried, and facing threats to our own well-being? How does a therapist who has never worked on a remote platform manage to appear calm and in charge when she forgets how to turn on the video camera?

For many of us, answers came from a shift in our therapeutic position. Instead of the wiser, contemplative therapist we had presented to our clients in the past, we became a partner in a process of learning to manage a world that had turned upside down.

Our techno-savvy clients walked some of us through the tangled confusion of electronic communication. Instead of making us less helpful to them, as some of us feared, our willingness to learn from them and appreciate their knowledge opened up something important in the work. One older, experienced colleague said in one of these groups, “I’ve never realized so clearly how important it is to let clients know that we recognize and admire their strengths.”

The pandemic seems to be behind us, although the consequences linger and will for many years. Worries about the state of the world may be one of those consequences. A sense that all is not well is part of almost every session these days. Sometimes clients voice the feeling, and sometimes the concern sits silently in the background, a dark, unacknowledged shadow over everything.

Yet hope also joins the conversation on a regular basis.

A few sessions after the earlier one, Adrianna told me that she was feeling much better. She had shared her despairing feelings with her adult daughter, who replied, “Mom, you are doing so many things to make this a better world. You volunteer, care for friends, spend time with my family and teach your grandchildren to be good people. My friends think you’re fabulous and want to be like you. You’re doing what you’ve always told me to do: live a life you can feel proud of. No one can do more than that”

Adrianna said to me, “What a wise woman my daughter has become.”

I am not suggesting that we “oldsters” place the burden of change on younger generations. That is unfair and unproductive. We must take responsibility for ourselves, find ways to contribute to the world as it is, and make sure we are living a life we can be proud of.

But part of that life involves making space for a mutual give and take with younger generations. Let them teach us as much as we teach them.

But we do have something to offer. Although I don’t know any more than Adrianna about how our generation can manage these times we’re living in, I do know  I have a shot at figuring it out if I maintain connectedness with the other people in my life—the young, the old, and the in-between. The work is to keep talking to each other, acknowledge each other’s insights, expertise, and knowledge, and maintain mutual respect and support. If we adhere to these simple truths, we won’t be caught flatfooted. We’ll figure this out together.

*names and identifying information have been changed to protect privacy

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