Person on the Page

My inability to sleep on Sunday nights began when I was 13. After a weekend away from middle school, I lay in bed anticipating the week ahead.

A test is coming up. That girl in gym class is waiting to bully me again — to shout at me that I’m no good at basketball; I’m too prissy; I’m stuck-up. And everyone, she’ll assure me, thinks so. A test is coming up. I have a part in the class play, and I see myself there, in front of everyone, forgetting my lines, mumbling, stumbling off the stage in shame. A test is coming up.

At 13, I first met the Dread.

A big acid-green blob bumbling around in my mind, the Dread kept me awake all night before Monday morning. My insomnia became so predictable that, in desperation, my mother made me swear not to tell anyone as she slipped me one of her Valium on Sunday nights. It didn’t work.

As I got older, the Dread accompanied me whenever I faced upcoming responsibilities or anything new and unfamiliar. Anything that could go wrong. The Dread was there when I transitioned from high school to college. It was there — big time — when I gave birth to my first child. And when she left home for college, that big green blob was there, dancing its clumsy jig in my brain, bigger and greener than ever.

Eventually, I learned that the more common name for the Dread is anxiety. Or in my case, anticipatory anxiety. That nagging worry about what’s coming. Belief in the imminence of something. Something dreadful.

I once had a job that did its best to keep the Dread in business. Every workday, I witnessed the injustices my employer committed against my co-workers. I saw the dishonesty of administrators in a company that prided itself on its high ethical standards. Salary inequities were rampant. Sexism, racism — all the ugly isms reigned. The more employees did, the more they were expected to do. Loyalty, dedication and excellent work were never enough.

During that time, the Dread transformed itself into a slow drip of misery that infiltrated every night. Forget sleep. The Dread became a low-level grinding buzz that underscored every workday. It made me tired, discouraged and sick.

Recently, I retired.

Since then, I have tried my best to banish the Dread from my life. After all, later in life we achieve peace of mind. We gain wisdom that acts as a perpetual tranquilizer, easing us through our days like a barely-felt breeze. We finally understand the meaning of life, the universe and everything, so nothing can ruffle us. Right?

I have learned that unfortunately anxiety is as common among older people as it is among the young. In fact, according to the National Council on Aging, up to 20% of people 65 and over are diagnosed with anxiety disorders. Few, however, are treated for them. Is it because they are expected to have gained the wisdom and peace of mind it takes to overcome the Dread? Or does anxiety just get bundled in with age-related problems like dementia?

After I retired, I decided to avoid committing myself to anything that would invite the old Dread.

Public speaking? No, thank you!

Attending parties with rooms full of strangers? Sorry, I’m busy.

Serving on committees, attending book groups, joining clubs? If I began to anticipate them with any level of anxiety, I backed out.

I took up yoga, meditation, long walks in the woods, soft music, candlelight. All methods promoted to help dispel anxiety.

Thankfully, I am experiencing far lower levels of the Dread now. But I must be realistic. Anticipatory anxiety is a significant issue for people later in life. Research at Cedars-Sinai concludes that several factors may lead to anxiety among older people. They may have financial worries. They may lose loved ones and friends, leading to grief and fears about their continued quality of life. They may have growing health concerns that lead to worry about the future. They may take medications that induce anxiety. And they may worry about the warnings that recurring or chronic anxiety may lead to a variety of physical health problems. Worrying about illness leads to illness. Yikes!

So as we age, that big green monster grows quills and needles us through the rest of our lives?

And then there’s the really big Dread, the one we may put off thinking about until later in life. We all know that as we travel the miles of our existence, over the rocky roads, the hills and valleys, the byways and backroads, around the hairpin curves and through the long stretches of smooth, straight highway, we will eventually reach it.

Our Dread End, if you will.

Older people live in the shadow of their own mortality. No matter what level of physical health they can maintain, no matter how well they manage their mental health, the end of life approaches.

I guess older people have plenty to be anxious about.

And I guess that green guy might continue to show up now and then as I cruise through my later years. But I and others like me can cherish the anxiety-free moments that our phase of life offers us.

If we can’t banish the Dread, we can at least do our best to keep him at bay.

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Cover Image: AI-generated by Gemini