The Anxiety of Aging

Photo by the author

Growing up to be a lawn gnome was never a real plan, yet here I am crushing it! As many of the writers on here have lamented, aging is not for the weak or timid. Every day I am reminded of what I am fighting health-wise, and the battle never seems to have a victory or a stopping place.

Due to my desire to get my dad’s attention when I was a teen, struggling in the shadow of my jock much older brother, I chose horses and rodeo. My back is a mess. My hips have both been replaced. My wrists are both a wreck. Arthritis runs rampant in my joints.

Now add anxiety on top of this. I have a tightness in my chest often. I recognize the feeling quite well. I lived with it often in my twenties and now the same feeling has resurfaced as I hit the “69” mark, a hot breath away from my 70th birthday.

I never expected this. I remember well asking my 96-year-old great-grandma about her feelings on aging. She had asked me to take her to the cemetery to drive by my grandad’s final resting place. She was quiet while we sat there, and I quietly asked her, “Grandma, are you afraid of dying?” She quickly answered “Oh no, child. All my friends are gone, and I have so many parts that hurt! Dying is something you get used to as you get older.” About a month later, she had a quick series of heart attacks and passed away before I could get to her bedside from college. She was the…