Getting Physical

Trying, at least

Hi hi hello andhowdy to my readers, friends and inquisitive strangers! Welcome to the current edition of my weekly newsletter, Crone Life, all about accustoming yourself to acting your real age, which is my case is 65 (my inner age ranges from about 5 to sometime in my late 30s to maybe my mid-50s). I hope you enjoy reading this, especially the footnotes. Please subscribe, share, and comment!

October before the rain

Lately, I’ve been thinking about my body. I’ve accumulated a lot of damage in 65 years. The period from 2023-2025 has been particularly difficult, with a car accident, a broken toe, a fractured kneecap, a broken humerus and torn rotator cuff followed by a shoulder replacement. In 2015, I broke my right ankle. At the end of 2016, I fell and broke both wrists and took a year off to recover.¹ A month ago, I started experiencing severe back pain–I couldn’t walk for a few days–which has slowly been improving but which is still there. There’s been a lot of stress (e.g. the Car Fire Incident). September is always a difficult month because of the nature of my job and I have just in general been very stressed. I’ve been treating myself with ice cream and (mostly) gluten-free cookies. I’ve gained some weight and my clothes aren’t as comfortable or don’t look the way I want them too. I feel old, heavy (as in heavy, not fat) and unwilling to move. For the past six months or so, I have not been able to make myself do anything I didn’t have to. My to-do list remains mostly undone.

Some of this has improved. I made an appointment to get my hair cut (not till November, though). But I forgot and made it for 5 pm, meaning I will have to leave early just a few days into the takeover of my new boss. I don’t know if this matters. He’s about 50, which suggests he will be more relaxed about things than my previous supervisors, who were quite strict and detail-oriented and liked everything to be just so (I was not the best fit, but made up for my imperfections by being both nice and smart). I don’t know what to expect–I hate having to explain myself to people and sound like a Poor Thing, but the shoulder surgery and the car incident and the back problem feel impossible to hide. I can’t pretend nothing is wrong.

All of the above, of course, make me feel old and anxious. Although “feeling old” doesn’t cover it, really. I don’t feel old in the sense of being past it. I might feel old in the sense of having lived a long time and seen a lot. I know a lot. I’m not so interested in the latest thing but don’t want to be one of those people who had their last idea 50 years ago.² I’ve been saying I need a reset for weeks now, but I don’t have a clear idea of what or how.

I’m not a woo-woo type but I’m starting to feel like some woo might be indicated. But what kind? There are so many. I’ve been trying to force myself to talk time to read or watch TV (mixed feelings about that but also “Slow Horses” is soooo good). I thought about using a sheet mask while I wrote or watched or read, but I’m put off by the idea of the goo. For a while I tried listening to podcasts while I was doing something else but most of them last at least an hour and most of the stuff I do just doesn’t take that long. The new car has Apple Carplay, and I’ve mostly figured it out, so last week I listened to a podcast on the way to my mom’s and another on the way back. They weren’t my favorites though–a little bit too pop culture-oriented. My favorite podcast was by John Ganz (The Nation and

Unpopular Front

) and Dylan Riley (UC Berkeley and New Left Review), a surprisingly engrossing discussion of Gramsci’s and Arendt’s views of how fascism might or might not arise through the atomization of civil society. ³

Here I am taking refuge from the woo and the self care and the physical stuff in the delightfully logical and labyrinthine space of 20th century political philosophy, which is not where I intended to go. As I was saying, I am reluctant to contemplate it, but maybe I need an energy healer. Or an acupuncturist. Even (God forbid) a chiropractor. Maybe I can start walking around again, at least a little. Maybe restarting physical therapy (now authorized once a week for 6 weeks) will help. I have resolved to take my lunch to work at least twice a week (definitely at least once) so I have time to read during my lunch hour (and can also avoid the delicious treats on offer in the dining hall). If I make myself physically tired enough, maybe I can stop waking up at 3 am⁴ dreaming I’m debating Charlie Kirk.⁵ Then I can walk around during my afternoon break, or read some more if the weather’s bad. Or climb the stairs from the basement to the 4th floor of the building I work in as many times as I can manage before collapsing. (I used to be able to do this without collapsing.) I could return to the gluten-free/dairy-free diet I’ve been cheating on with abandon and see if I feel better.

Or maybe I can just commit to frequent naps. Which seems achievable.

21st century bitch

Maybe my exhaustion and lack of motivation aren’t just due to physical issues. After reading this I am reminded that I grew up in an era when women gained rights and learned to live with what seemed like limitless expectations–rights and expectations that are now lost. I wasn’t born free, but I gained some freedoms thanks to Roe v Wade and the Equal Credit Opportunity Act and other legislation.

My grandmother was a college grad before she could vote.

My mother, also a college graduate, couldn’t get a bank account in her name until 1974. She could get an abortion before she got access to her own money. [Interjecting to say that my dad was a good guy in this respect and they always had a joint account, but this wasn’t true in every relationship]

As a kid, I thought since I didn’t want to be a housewife or a secretary or a nurse, I was doomed to starve. That hasn’t proven true (yet) but I fear for the experiences of my nieces and the young women I meet in the course of my job. Why should they be condemned to live a life without full choice? Why should any woman? Why do I have to understand the beliefs that have come to dominate our government? Isn’t it enough to know they are wrong?⁶

Veronica’s corner

She has discovered that there’s another door that leads outside–in this case, to the garage. I am not so happy about this, as I worry she might get run over by the car (or a car or delivery van). But it does provide intriguing places to hide, since it is full of bookshelves, broken-down furniture, and old lawn equipment. Also, ladders.

We have always slept atop the tallboy dresser.

My husband and I have an inside joke about how cats behave like something new is just something that’s always been–when they change something, they act like the earlier activity never existed. Our catchphrase for this is “the new bed where I’ve always slept.” Veronica’s new place where she’s always been is the top of my husband’s dresser, one of the highest spots in the bedroom, where she can observe everything whilst comfortably settled amidst clean, folded, but otherwise ignored laundry.⁷

Thanks for reading! Please click the little heart and leave a comment if you are so inclined. Let me know about any woo-woo resets you might recommend.

1. As recounted here

2. COUGH*ourpresident*COUGH

3. It’s great, honest! Lasts about an hour.

4. The true dark night of the soul

5. It was utterly unpleasant

6. I’m looking right at you, Ezra Klein

7. I will wash, dry and fold, but I will not put away