Ridiculous Opinions #310
I have tinnitus.
It seems like an old man disease, and I suppose one would describe me as an older gentlemen, but I don’t feel like I’m an older gentlemen. In fact, I feel better than I probably have in the last ten years. But there are telltale signs that signal you’re getting older and they hit you when you least expect it.
The other day someone took a picture of me from behind and I thought, “Holy crap! I’m really bald!” It’s true. I have very little hair on top of my head. I think I have hair on top of my head, but it’s not there and because I never see the top of my head, I still think of my head as being full of beautiful, sandy-blond locks.
Occasionally, I look in the mirror and see someone different staring back at me. It’s not the person I imagine. I have big bags under my eyes that I’m sure I could pay someone to fix for me, but I kind of like them. I like the crinkles around my eyes as well. They give me gravitas. But again, these are things that don’t seem like me. They are the marks of an older person, and I am not old.
Sometimes in the morning I am sore. This has been less frequent in the last year, but it’s still something that makes an appearance on occasion. I feel like I should just be able to spring out of bed in the mornings and go for it. Sadly, it takes my body a bit to warm up. I’m not used to that. When I was younger and doing yoga regularly, I could do a forward fold and touch my forehead to my shins. In my mind, I could still do that if I wanted to, but if I were to truly examine that notion, I would find that it is ridiculous that that thought would ever even cross my mind.
I used to have zero fear of hospitals. Spending two weeks in a hospital will cure you of that. I used to be able to ride roller-coasters for fun. Now, I have severe claustrophobia and cannot even stand a simple lap bar being over me or I start to have a silent, mental freakout. I think about going on hikes and am pretty convinced that I would do just fine. But as one gets older, one starts to think about how you would be rescued if you twisted an ankle or had a heart attack.
And then there’s my tinnitus. My right ear rings constantly; a high-pitched whine that, 95% of the time, I can tune out. But if I pause for a few seconds, there it is, loud as the ambient noise of the room. Constantly listening to music through headphones is likely the cause of all of this, but I also attribute part of it to the acoustics of my current workspace.
My tinnitus is like a constant reminder of my age. My brain thinks everything is good, but that tinnitus sits constantly in my ear, reminding me that I am not, in fact, a spring chicken anymore. “Hello,” it says. “You are old. In case you were wondering, I am here to remind you of that.”
But I defy my tinnitus.
Though I know all of these things and though they run through my mind every once in a while, they do not control me. I plan to be as young as I want for as long as I want, because my brain thinks so. I will climb that mountain. I will wake up and just go for it. I will celebrate those laugh lines around my eyes because they’re a wonderful canvas upon which is written the story of a life well-lived and one that is still being lived. Like I said, I feel better than I’ve felt in a long time, so why not enjoy that for as long as possible?
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