Editing, Growling and TMI

Word for the day:
Growlery
     noun

• A place to retreat to, alone, when ill-humoured

• A place to growl

Everyone needs a proper growlery. Mine includes my beautiful Cake, dark chocolate covered pretzels, e-books (currently reading Titanium Noir by Nick Harkaway), a comfy chair and way too easy online access. Why do I say “too easy?” Because I spend too much time doomscrolling. I’m desperately trying to cut back on that shit. Why? I have a bleak enough view of this country, this cruel world, the insanity that we’re living through—I don’t need amplify that. I’ll continue to follow the news but it’s time to retire to my growlery.

While I’m here growling, I wonder how folks make new friends as they get older.

By “older” I mean my age—mid-60s. I’m hardly ancient but, with the old Nf2 and its shitbaggian effects, neither am I a vibrant, dynamic creature.

There’s a thoughtful, independent woman on Threads who’s always posts interesting lists of things she’s thinking about, working on, doing. She asks readers for their/our thoughts and ideas.

I want to join the discussions but my life is so very different from hers and all her commenters (due to that pesky old Nf2 and the havoc it’s wrought). They all seem healthy or, at least, in better shape than yurs truly. I’m afraid that, if I respond, I’ll come off as some self pitying egoist, out to steal everyone’s spotlight. There seems to be no way to jump in unless I leave out my honest, real-life bits. What’s the point in entering the discussion if I’m going to leave a generic, pablum-y reply?

If I responded to her post, it’d look sort of like this:

At 65 I'm thinking about what choices I want to make for the rest of my life.

1 and 2: To relocate or not to relocate, that is the question—It's not an option for me. My doctors, specialists and surgeons are all here.

Also, when we were home hunting 20 years ago, I looked ahead.

• Would Valhalla be a good neighborhood for someone old and rickety, needing frequent trips to MGH Land. (so far, yes)
  

• Would it be pretty and peaceful or turn into a college student ghetto? (not yet)
  

• Would a strip mall get built in place of the park? (nope)

• Would mini-mansions with huge, environment assaulting golf-club style landscaping replace all the old cottages and Victorians? (there are some big houses but not many)
  

• Would a McDonalds or Starbucks move in across the street? (no)
  

• Would this become a cacatopia, an epic wasteland of asphalt, greed and trash, devoid of trees? (not so far but MORE trees are always needed)
  

Neighborhoods change and evolve. I know that. Before buying, we checked zoning laws and it looked safe. Asshole neighbors come and go. Most of ours have been lovely but still, we generally keep to ourselves. We’re friendly and helpful but not looking to become BFFs.

3: Siblings—I have three. One lives in a town nearby. We frequently text but, with our respective vida locas, don’t get together often. The other two live halfway across the country. I’m strictly No Contact with one. The other sends me the odd, brief email.

This is fine.

4: Health—I’m rebuilding, becoming stronger so that, whatever excrement hits the fan, I’ll survive, sparkle and break on through to the other side (in as close to in one piece as possible). I’m making slow but sure progress on this front.

5: Simplifying—The older I get the more stuff I want to get rid of. There are things from my Aunt Mary Ann and my grandparents that are precious to me. I’ve got artworks, made by friends or picked up on holidays, which are deeply meaningful. There’s so much that I can (and have) let go of though. Possessions, excess ones, feel like an unnecessary, suffocating weight.

6: Creating—My essential tremors have advanced to the point that handwriting is almost impossible. Painting is no longer manageable (except, perhaps, large abstracts). I haven’t played the flute in 20 years (due to facial nerves damaged in brain surgeries). I can write though, doodle a bit on the computer and maybe knit.

What other choices can/will I make for my future?

I can allow my imagination to go off leash more. I won’t necessarily attempt to write fiction but I could sit in a coffeehouse inventing/imagining the lives of other patrons. I can tell myself stories...for a start.

I’d like to see if the dexterity needed for knitting is in any way therapeutic. That is, between my meds and the focused, precise moves of knitting, could I regain better use of my hands? Could I then draw and paint again?

So, I want to join this woman’s discussions but not be that Too Much Information participant who’s ignored and/or pitied. How can I be open, honest and real but concise AND still connect with people? Edit, edit, edit and more of it!

What choices are you making for your future?