Calling all [B]old Women: please introduce yourself!
Hello and welcome to a new community for old(er) women writers and readers hosted by me, Debbie. Please tell us about yourself by leaving a comment.
Welcome to something new on my Substack
One of my greatest pleasures on Substack has been meeting other older women writers, many of whom are in the UK, Canada, and the U.S. (where I live). Who knew there were this many (b)old women wanting to exchange support, ideas and more?! Given interest in such a gathering space, I’m hosting [B]old Women, a lively space where old(er) women writers and readers can support and encourage one another. If that’s you, I invite you to join in to help kick off this community. Tell us about yourself in a comment. Anything goes! We don’t need rules at this stage in our lives.
My Substack
I also write about [B]OLD AGE without regard to gender or pronouns, offer Writing Tips, and include Behind The Scenes for each episode of my [B]old Age podcast, now in Season 6 with over 100 episodes. I also do Q&As with [B]old Women. Upgrade to a paid subscription for full access.
My intro
I’ll go first…
My name is Debbie Weil and I’m 72. I’m a writer and editor (and more) with many decades of experience. I write on Substack about what getting old is really like. As I explain on my About page: “I’m in good health and still very active; yet I’ve entered the land of the old. It’s a foreign country and, frankly, I’m quite surprised to find myself here. This place was not on my bucket list.” However, writing (and in my case, getting back to writing) IS on my bucket list. I try and write about hard things, including cognitive decline and the hard stop of death. But I also write about slowing down and taking more pleasure in little things. I started writing on Substack in June, 2023. I live in the U.S., on the coast of Maine and in New Haven, CT. And I so look forward to meeting everyone.
P.S. I live with my husband of 51 years
. We have three children in their 40s and six grandchildren.Now, your turn to leave a comment!
Introduce yourself in the comments so we can get to know one another!
There is no age qualification to participate but my thought was that this space is for women in their 60s, 70s, 80s who may share similar concerns (and pleasures) about old age. And other women (40s, 50s?) who are old souls at heart or who are interested. Again, no hard and fast rules. Let’s see how this develops. Things you might include in your introduction:
Your name and age
What your Substack is about and a link to it (it’s fine if you’re a reader and you’re not posting)
Where do you live?
One thing on your bucket list
If relevant, marital / partner status, children, grandchildren, pets, etc.
And anything else you want to tell us.
My name is Buzz Masters, I am a painter living on Deer Isle where I serve my community working as an AEMT, and help run a Community Paramedicine program. I have found aging to be an energizing experience. Concerns or worries that took up so much of my youthful years have faded and what has come more into focus is a different self confidence, less ego and more energy.
A couple of years ago, at a time in my life, when I was feeling the most fulfilled and active, I was out of the blue diagnosed with cancer, and not a good diagnosis. I have worked in emergency medicine for 25 years, spent much time advocating for my patients, but suddenly being diagnosed with this disease I was thrown into the unknown world of being a patient, I was vulnerable and it was terrifying. The day I found out the worst of the news was when, that evening, I had to stand up in front of an audience and tell a story about tornados, eating pie, generosity, kindness, and remembering that it really is the small things to hold onto. I was in extreme pain, emotionally and physically, but looking back my story fit with that day.
For the first six months, after being told I was going to die, I was in such physical pain I had stopped painting and had stepped down from my job running my CP program and pretty much spent those six months sobbing. Then somewhere around December something changed, I felt a surge of energy brought on by what I like to call my you-have-got-to-be-fucking-kidding-me moment. The first thing I did was fire the first group of doctors, who always greeted me with sad faces, and had given me months to live. I contacted a college friend who is the head of cancer research at University of Iowa Hospitals , and one of the most optimistic human beings you will ever meet, and with the support from my family I retained a wonderful group of oncologists who call me their "Unicorn" because I am "one in a million" and "doing so well", and when we see each other we talk about art, medicine, family, and why we like pie so much. No sad faces. Two years later from that disastrous day, I am in my studio painting every day, back on the ambulance roster, back seeing 18 patients every week in their homes, and right now am finishing up a three week painting residency through the MFA program at University of Iowa.
What is my prognosis? No one knows, and I like it that way because even without a chronic disease, no one knows how long you will live. I have found a new resilience, a new kind of contentment, a new determination and strength, a new productiveness, and I have made travel and residency plans for two and three years from now.
I do not like the platitudes about being grateful for everything or living each day as if it is your last. You do not have to smile through the pain or be only kind to everyone. You are human and as the Greek Gods teach us, fallible. You are allowed to have a whole range of emotions. You can be bitter and angry and still be a kind person. You can set boundaries and still be a good person. You can be very sad and still be a whole person. I am grateful for every tear I shed because sobbing for six months helped me get to where I am today.
So today. Tornados, I am still frightened of them. Pie, I have eaten my share these three weeks in Iowa. The new resilience and productivity I have found was probably always there but since I feel my life has been distilled, it is just more prominent. Kindness and generosity, I am trying.
I am privileged to live the life I do, privileged to have choices, privileged to have the family I do, privileged to paint, and to serve my community. I feel surrounded by resilience, creativity, and determination. I am so lucky. I can easily say I will live forever, what ever forever means.
I am Ann, age 82 (yes, 82 and not gaga yet). I was just interviewed by Debbie with the post titled "Savoring old age, writing and sex at 82", which tells you a lot right there.
My Substack, started in November 2022, is on anything I feel like writing about – occasionally about being old but also about lots of things that affect anyone. I claim I write on everything from Annunciations to orgasms, but those two topics don't really make a spectrum. All income from paid subscribers goes to a homeless shelter.
I have been a published writer for over 40 years, because my paid occupation was being a qualitative social researcher and I wrote books, articles and so forth about my findings. More recently, I have written creative non-fiction books on subjects of interest to me (for instance, the experiences of people who work in hospice care). My most recent, called The Granny Who Stands on her Head: Reflections on Growing Older, is about why I like being old. You can see a quick summary of some of my reasons in the interview and in my posts, but the most important is the increased confidence that comes from age and which affects everything one does. I do yoga and do stand on my head. Fuller information about my books is on my website https.annrichardson.co.uk.
American born, I have lived in London with my English husband since 1968. We just celebrated our sixtieth wedding anniversary, which I have written about. We have a son and a daughter, both middle aged - hard as that is for me to believe - and two teenage grandsons with whom I am very much involved. No bucket list. Just take opportunities when they arise.