Does anyone feel old and useless with age?

@kjoed53
Ah, the scarcity of real friends! That's true of my life, too. I've several good friends, but I equate "real" with "intimate," and I no longer have any intimate friends. You know the sort I mean. The sort of friends––more often than not a spouse or life-partner––with whom you can share anything and everything. I've no one any longer in that category.

Setting aside intimate or real friends for a moment, when I consider those friends I regard as good or casual friends, they, too, are becoming fewer and fewer. And on top of that …

I had what I found to be a sad experience only the other day. I set aside time to make a few phone calls, calls to a few of my geographically distant friends, friends who were great pals in the past. I managed three such calls before I couldn't take any more. Each of the friends I called lives alone. Each was enthusiastic about talking (almost too much so), but all each of these dear friends from my past could talk about was themselves. None had been doing anything particularly interesting. About all they wanted to talk about was medical, or in some cases grocery shopping, or problems with their iPhones––and when I say "talk," they didn't seem at all interested in having a conversation, all it appeared they wanted to do was deliver a monologue or soliloquy, most of which was complain, complain, complain. Not once did I hear from any one of my long-ago friends a simple, "And how are you?" Had I heard those words even once, it would have made a world of difference. But I didn't. That's why I say the experience of calling was a terribly sad experience.

The lesson to me was: when I'm talking with a friend––or with anybody, for that matter––don't deliver a one-sided monologue; instead, converse: have a balanced back-and-forth conversation.

Onward and upward, Connecters!
Ray (@ray666)

@ray666
I've said it a couple of times on other conversations that I wish there was a convention for us Mayo clinic community forum members. Our fellow members seem more in tune with us than anyone else these days.

Its very sad to read the comments here from people in their 60’s who are “”old.” That is actually quite young. But for everyone, no matter what age, one’s life is what we make it. There are constant challenges, but there are usually ways to make the best of what exists. It helps to look outside oneself I think.

@darlene01

I was trying to “speak” to people who wrote about their difficulties. I am fortunately not one of them. I understand you are in a tough spot but hope with time some of the causes of your sadness will ease. It is good you have good friends and counselor, many do not. Arthritis runs in my family too, though so far I am not affected. I agree any person who is depressed should seek help.

@twday67 you now have quality instead of quantity. If a friend can’t make the effort to visit even once a year, was he/she even your friend anyway …?

@tsch
May I second that? When my partner died just a little less than a year ago, my primary, who had known us both, advised that I try a little bereavement counseling. I played my Tough-as-Nails Male Card and said, "What, me? Bereavement counseling? You've got to be kidding, doc!" Well, about a month later, when most of the busyness of being my partner's personal rep had died down, and the hollowness of my new life had set in, I phoned my doc and asked if counseling was still an option. Long story short? I've been going to counseling for the past three months, and I couldn't be more pleased with the results. The proof in the pudding? Hardly a day goes by without one of my friends remarking on how well I appear to be doing. Am I still grieving? You bet! But counseling––or in my case, CBT counseling––has enabled me to manage my grief. I saw how my life was narrowing down, but thanks to counseling, I'm learning how to both re-animate and re-populate my life.

Cheers to everyone here!
Ray (@ray666)

@tsch
May I second that? When my partner died just a little less than a year ago, my primary, who had known us both, advised that I try a little bereavement counseling. I played my Tough-as-Nails Male Card and said, "What, me? Bereavement counseling? You've got to be kidding, doc!" Well, about a month later, when most of the busyness of being my partner's personal rep had died down, and the hollowness of my new life had set in, I phoned my doc and asked if counseling was still an option. Long story short? I've been going to counseling for the past three months, and I couldn't be more pleased with the results. The proof in the pudding? Hardly a day goes by without one of my friends remarking on how well I appear to be doing. Am I still grieving? You bet! But counseling––or in my case, CBT counseling––has enabled me to manage my grief. I saw how my life was narrowing down, but thanks to counseling, I'm learning how to both re-animate and re-populate my life.

Cheers to everyone here!
Ray (@ray666)

@ray666
Excellent. You are wise to have counseling. Many men would not be as wise. Losing a partner is awful and life shattering, but with time the grieved one usually learns to live and be happy again, but it takes time, and maybe some work.