Life in the slow lane poses an existential dilemma for me
There are days I am filled with enthusiasm. But some days I am beset by existential anxieties and dilemmas about ageing and somewhat lost and empty as I enter a new phase in my life.
So I braved myself for difficult conversations with some friends.
I had created for myself an image of a strong feminist, having served as president of Association of Women for Action and Research (Aware) many times over and of the SCWO (Singapore Council of Women’s Organisations). I was also a civil society activist for more than 30 years and a writer of several books.
How then can I confess to any weakness, even when it is to good friends?
But confess I must, about my angst and a worry about the life ahead of me with nothing much to do. (I understand that there are 1,300 people in Singapore who are more than 100 years of age and that is a real long time to live.)
Yes, I was admitting to weakness and neediness. I was discontented. The conversation definitely was not easy.
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This feeling that I have nothing to do is new for me, having led an unrelentingly busy life.
In that busy life I was surrounded and enriched by other equally busy people and by daily human interaction and connection.
But during this diminishment of old age there are things I no longer want to do nor can do.
My imagination and my spirit are still open to new experiences but my body is not.
Many a time I have disappointed friends by not turning up for events I had promised I would because I tire easily and feel vulnerable about going out for late evening functions.
Could the cause of this sense of unease, this discontent be driven by guilt, ingrained by my Catholic upbringing?
You know the thing about an idle mind being the devil’s playground?
Is my good life, my leisurely life, my purposeless life the root of my discontent?
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Catholicism’s guilt-ridden conscience and capitalism’s unyielding demand on our time and productivity have conspired to make me feel uneasy about my current lifestyle as I slow down and journey into the next phase.
Slowing down is the challenge.
To wake up in the morning these days and wonder what my day is going to be like is a new experience.
In my busy life not a day had passed without some writing to complete, some meeting to attend or a deadline to meet.
I thought about how things were like during my grandmother’s time.
The most recurring image of my grandmother was of her sitting still, silently watching us her grandchildren playing in the garden.
She didn’t have to cook the family meals; she didn’t have to clean the house, as there were other people to take care of those jobs. Did she ever think then that her life was “purposeless”?
Did she ever think that she needed to keep herself busy all the time? Did she think that a life of just ‘being’ was not good enough?
I shall never know the view from my grandmother’s time. But she, like her generation and culture, knew how to be old. They knew how to slow down.
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Their young people knew how to be tolerant, to be kind and respectful towards old people. Where I am is a different place, a different time and a different culture.
We, the old, are not very interesting and so are often ignored. I can get on the bus and woe be tide if it is crowded, not one able-body will stand up for you.
If I venture into a busy mall, Ion Orchard for instance, I am constantly in fear of being knocked down by young people whose focus is their mobile phone.
My generation of the ageing is the pioneers in many ways. Our experience is new. We are a fast growing demography. We will gobble up a lot of state benefits and funds. Medical technology will keep us alive longer.
One of the few advantages of age is that I can report on it with some authority. And so, I am sure, my existential dilemma will continue.
There will be some good days and some not so good days. There will be some days when I can look forward to something interesting.
And as Penelope Lively, at 80, wrote in her essay on old age: “None of us escapes the daily challenge of the condition - so often newly surprising. However did I get like this? What happened?”
My friends’ words as they took their leave was “this is life”.
This is busy Singapore and we are still trying to catch up with our ageing demography.
The telephone didn’t ring yesterday. But today is another day.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Constance Singam is a writer and civil society activist who at 82 years of age is navigating a different phase of life.
