relationships | Opal Palmer Adisa

Lately, I’ve been speaking to a number of friends who are in their 60s, most of whom are single, or divorced, and many of whom are feeling lonely. It reminded me of a time when I lived in California and there was a group of us, married and divorced., who talked seriously about buying property in the Caribbean so that when we reached 60s, 70s, and 80s we could live in community. We imagined a shared life because we held similar political, cultural, and social values and we could be independent, not alone, even though most of us had children.

This feels important now, this idea of imagining a new way of being. Loneliness is widespread, not just among women. Many of us, myself included, are creative productive people. We stay busy with our writing and other creative practices we’ve always pursued and will continue to pursue. But as we get older, we feel more vulnerable.

There was a moment when I almost slipped in the bathtub, and I wondered: if I fell and couldn’t reach my phone, how long would I be there? Most people have accidents in their homes. How long before someone would find me? My son calls me once a week. My daughter calls me. People do call me. But I hadn’t really established a dependable rhythm though I’m beginning to now, where someone would notice if they didn’t hear from me every day. I have friends who check in daily with their sisters. I’ve been so independent. I’ve traveled the world alone, gone off the beaten track. I remember once trekking somewhere and seeing a sign that said, Bears around. And I thought, Oh my God, I’m here alone in this country. A bear could attack me and nobody would know. I hadn’t even told anyone where I was. I barely knew where I was myself.

Loneliness is real even when you are living fully. It is important that at a certain age, 60s you creat checks and balances so people check in on you daily, so if they don’t hear from me, they’ll

raise the alarm. Those of us in the autumn of our lives and who are still active and vibrant must develop systems where we can come together in meaningful ways on a regular basis. I still have a lot of adventure in me. I still want to explore. I don’t like driving, and night driving has become difficult, as it has for many of my friends.

They tell me, “Opal, have events early so we can get home before dark.” But maybe we don’t have to worry about the dark if a few of us come together, pool resources, and hire someone to drive us so we can still enjoy the nightlife we love.

Loneliness is a major problem in many societies because of fragmentation because families and communities have changed. I was surprised when I taught a class in California and young people spoke openly about being lonely. I thought, When I was 20, loneliness never even crossed my mind. I was busy, meeting people, engaged with life. But now, for people my age to meet new people, it feels almost impossible unless you go online and then you don’t know what you’re finding.

So I am appealing to people in the autumn of their life not to allow loneliness to isolate you. Don’t allow it to stop you from enjoying the things you love. Don’t allow it to make you cranky, afraid, or small. You have lived an amazing life. You’ve done splendid, wonderful things. And until the day you die, you deserve to live fully and to have company.

One recommendation I always make is to have friends of all ages. We tend to cluster with people our own age, but we need friendships with people in their 30s, 40s, and 50s too, friendships that span generations, friendships with people who understand that you still want to do things and will include you. I’m lucky in that regard. My niece and her children include me in many of their activities.

So let us, in this middle, ripening age of maturity and wisdom, create spaces for ourselves, spaces that allow us to continue

So I’ve been trying to navigate that delicate path of sharing what I want and aspire to with the people I love. I remember being three years old and always being told, you want too much, you’re doing too much, you’re this, you’re that. So who I am was always too much for the people I loved, and still is. It’s never, Oh my gosh, you have all these brilliant ideas and projects. I want to help you with them, or connect you with people who can help you. Instead, it’s always, Why are you doing this? Why are you doing that? Why don’t you focus? As if the ideas and projects I carry mean I am somehow unfocused or scattered.

Most people, can only do one thing or choose to only do one thing. My brain has never worked that way. It is busy. I realize that I’m not seeking affirmation, because I am who I am, and I’m going to do what I do. But it is really painful to feel that when you share your dreams and ideas with the people you love, rather than seeing them through your eyes, they dissect them and decide they are too much, that they mean you are not focused.

And I find myself asking: how do we get over this hump of living our lives fully? I think I’ve done that, in many ways. But how do you live fully without tripping over what the people you love say and do, without being wounded by their doubts, without shrinking yourself to fit their comfort? How do you become free and wild enough to be your full self? Does that happen? And how does one achieve that if you are deeply connected to people, if you deeply love those people and deeply want them to remain in your life? And are often deeply hurt by their responses to who you are.

How does one achieve that sense of complete autonomy and still remain tender? How do you not be hurt or stymied by other people’s evaluations of how you are living your life and the things you want to achieve?

Because if you say you want to achieve something and you haven’t yet, they say, Do you see? You said that five years ago. And yes, I did say that five years ago. I did hope it would happen five years ago. But the fact that it hasn’t happened doesn’t mean it won’t happen. It doesn’t mean I should abandon it simply because time has passed. I still want it. And maybe that is naïve, but I still think it is possible.

I am all of my hopes and aspirations. I want to be seen and accepted as such, nothingness, nothing more. Just that who I am, and the things I value, are not discounted and diminished and dissected, but seen for what they are. I want people not to accuse me of lacking focus or trying to do too much, but instead to help me do all the things that I can do, or to guide me in how I might do them, even if they feel it is too much.

And I think, at this stage in my life, it shouldn’t matter what people think about me or my projects, whether it’s my children, my family, or the people I admire. I wish I could get to that stage where it didn’t matter, where it wasn’t so hurtful, so painful. But as human beings, we are connected to other human beings. We want their love and their approval. And if we love them deeply, as I do, then we want them to celebrate us, not through their eyes, but through ours.

I don’t want to seem as if all the things I want to do are too much. Yes, I need support. And yes, maybe I should say, this year all I’m doing is one book, not three, and nothing else. But my brain, my mind, doesn’t work like that. I’ve never wanted to be like anyone else. I say that with a certain level of aplomb. I’ve always just wanted to be me, and I’ve always wanted to be accepted as me.

But I haven’t found that in many places. And I want to publicly acknowledge that.