Blog #38: Old Soul
Preface: “Golden Year”
Ever since I was little
I dreamt of the day
When I would be 24
On November 24th
By 24, Mini Maya had dreams
Of being a “Jack of all trades”
She fell into some endeavors
But fell in love with one
Miss Maya of 24 years
A fierce protector of many
With her pen as her sword
Gives voice to the voiceless
Existing in multiplicity
Writer, poet, advocate
AKA Ethereal Environmentalist
More than often existentialist
On the low, a grown up girl
1 car, 2 cats, and a desk job
Sometimes answering to somebody
Always plotting to be somebody
One year older
But not much wiser
Every day Miss Maya learns
Just how much she doesn’t know
Honestly, she could learn
A thing or 2 from Mini Maya
How to be a dreamer, an expander
In a world that tries to dim her light
Mini Maya called it a golden year
For reasons I always assumed
If 24 isn’t bathed in lucky sunshine
I’ll have to take it up with her
-To Mini Maya, from Miss Maya on her 24th birthday
______
I’ve always been told that I feel like an old soul.
These days, I’m reminded when I hang out with older 20-to-30-somethings and later reveal my age. I’m typically hit with shock and a response like: “I was not nearly as mature at your age” or “Damn it Maya, now I feel old!” As I grow more into adulthood, I feel like I’m growing into myself. I’m only 24, but it feels like I’ve been 30 for the past 10 years of my life... It’s strange to admit, but I’m no stranger to the idea. I’ve had these affirmations since I was young.
One of my childhood nicknames was “Manang Maya” (manang = Tagalog title of respect for the elderly!). I remember my mom and sister used to chant “Manang Maya” over and over when I was making mature commentary, giving sage advice, and being perceptive about every little thing (i.e. acting like a lil’ old lady). I get why I earned the nickname, but I still eye roll every time I think of it. I also distinctly remember one birthday e-vite that my mom sent to the whole family saying something like: “Come celebrate Maya’s Birthday this Saturday! She is 8 going on 18!” And of course, I have so many memories of choosing to hang out with my mom’s friends over my own, feeling at home among their tribe of independent, strong, grown women. I would occasionally get my mother’s protective hands covering my little ears when the grown folks were talking “adult stuff”, but otherwise, when the conversation was flowing and tea was spilling, Manang Maya was along for the ride.
As much as my mom teased me for it, I think she genuinely feared that I would lose my innocence too quickly. Little did she know that my innocence wouldn’t be taken away by falling with the wrong people and getting in trouble. Nope -- I had to grow up real quick when she was swept from this Earth, and I was left to mother her newborn child (and myself) alongside her life partner. Stepping into my mother’s impossibly large shoes at a time when I experienced immeasurable grief required a certain level of maturity. As an old soul, it felt as if I was preparing for this moment my whole life. And as a young woman of 17 years, it meant that I had to become an adult a lot sooner than my peers.
I consider myself a spiritual person, so being an “old soul” holds special significance. I believe in past lives, that our souls have lived many lifetimes before this one. A “young soul” hasn’t experienced as many lives as an “old soul”, so they may be particularly impulsive, adventurous, and repeat the same mistakes. An “old soul” tends to be more wise, empathetic and cautious. One is not better than the other -- they each have their own strengths and limitations. Personally, I wish I could tap back into my young soul energy more easily. As I grow older, I worry that I don’t spend enough time acting my age. Sometimes I wish that I was a little more reckless.
Being a 20-something is interesting because this may be the first time in my life when I’ve become fully conscious of my aging body. In general, maintaining good health is not a major concern when we’re young. As kids, we threw ourselves around, caught heinous colds, and watched every “booboo” heal itself after some time. Sure, you may have a mild ailment (or several, if you’re like me lol), but it really is okay to skip a few doctors appointments if you’re taking care of yourself. When you hit a certain age, shit hits a little different, though. Older friends always warned me that once you reach your mid-to-late 20s, you start feeling different in your body. Part of it is reaching physical maturity, the other part is that it’s been 20+ years now, sis. You are the youngest you’ll ever be, but you’re also the oldest you’ve ever been. Your body is not the same as when you were a kid.
I had a reality check about this a year ago, when I experienced a health crisis that shook me to my core. While I was visiting family in the Bay, I woke up one morning with an odd feeling in my left eye. It was unusually blurry, and when I looked into the light, I felt like a vampire exposed to the midday sun. On top of that, every room looked like it was filled with a fog machine, but only from my left eye!? I wasn’t getting back to LA for a few days, so I made an appointment to see my eye doctor right away.
It was Valentine’s Day when I eventually made it to the doctor. They started with the standard procedure of measuring the pressure in my eyes. It’s a kind of weird and gross process where they numb your eyeballs with these special drops, then shine lights and poke at your eye with a fancy machine. The nurse who did my initial intake was absolutely floored when he completed the test, saying the pressure in my left eye was 55. The normal range for eye pressure is anywhere from 10-20… When the doctor got word of this, he became very serious and quick to act. He explained to me that I could have very well lost all vision in my left eye if I hadn’t come sooner. Luckily, the remedy would only require more eye drops, but he couldn’t let me leave until I got back down to normal. I would also have to get my eye poked several more times, so they could ensure the medicine was working. Of course I started to overreact! I didn’t understand why this was happening to me, and the doctors weren’t able to explain it either. I remember sitting in the waiting room, holding back tears so the medication would stay in my eye. Texting my boss that I wouldn’t be back to work anytime soon. Envisioning a potential reality where I became blind in one eye. And fearing that I was already living that reality. As you can imagine, it was a quite un-sexy Valentine’s.
Long story short, I can still see with both eyes, but I am by far the youngest patient to frequent my ophthalmologist. I became the talk of their town, the weird case study that they would murmur about in the hallways (I know, cause the walls are pretty thin). They diagnosed me with “Glaucomato Cyclitic Crisis” and still have no idea what triggered it. One way to describe my diagnosis is that I may experience surprise attacks spiking my eye pressure, seemingly out of nowhere. They say I’m more likely to experience straight up “glaucoma” as I grow old, and (the cherry on top) there’s nothing I can do to prevent it! For the first time in my life, I am dependent on a prescription drug. I take one drop to keep my pressure down every night, and the medication has to be refrigerated. My insurance covers it for now, but I have a looming fear that it could be inaccessible at some point. That’s the shitty part about being dependent on a drug. On top of that, I feel like I’m too young to be in this boat. An experience like this can definitely make you fear growing older.
I was a lot more anxious about my eye stuff last year, but I’ve started to calm down. It takes a lot of energy to worry, and these days, I don’t find it worth my time. I rather live in the present. Naturally, I try not to think too much about growing old, but I’m also not opposed to the idea. I think it would be an absolute privilege to grow old. Surviving till my mother’s age when she died (and hopefully many years after that) would be really significant to me. It would give me more time to share my abundance of love, experience new people/places/things, and overall work towards my mission here on Earth. And besides, I’m lucky to have those good Filipino genes that confuse mothers and daughters for sisters (a common misconception that became small talk whenever going out in public with my mom lol). To be 40+ years old and looking as radiant as Mama Rosa would be winning at life.
The other day while I was out running errands, I was hit with a pang of grief when I saw a pretty filipina woman walking arm-in-arm with her equally cute, elderly mother. I was reminded of the fact that I will never have the privilege of watching my mother age into a cute little Lola. I won’t get to experience all that life with her, during our aging process. Won’t get to soak in the comfort of dropping off my future children at “Lola Rosa’s” for a fun weekend. Or simply run errands together on a random Tuesday, walking arm-in-arm, chismis’ing like the little old ladies we are. I get this twisted feeling in my stomach when I see other people living the life I long for. Like a sense of deep injustice that my mom left me here to age on my own. One day I will be an old Lola, and she will still be the youthful spirit from my memories. I just wish we could grow old together.
I hate that our consumerist society pushes anti-aging remedies like it’s a sin to grow old. Botox, plastic surgery, serums & creams — age reversing everything and anything. People don’t wear their wrinkles as a badge of honor anymore. On the extreme, I’ve seen videos of a plastic surgeon who literally gives baby faces to old people. Yes, you read that right. Perfectly normal people who have opted to erase any evidence of aging, and aren’t afraid that pulling their skin back to its limits will cause them to *implode* one day. I can’t look to my mom’s advice or experience on the topic of aging, but her constant reminders to embrace my natural beauty still ring in my mind. It’s a shame that our society has trended towards overvaluing youthfulness — only one stage of life. As an old soul, I trust that my inner beauty will only glow brighter with age.
On my 24th birthday, I shared with my friends and family that I never imagined myself living to this age. I didn’t mean it in a morbid way, I just honestly couldn’t picture myself here, given everything our generation has to overcome. Natural disasters, global pandemics, mass shootings, the list goes on… It’s no wonder why my mom raised me to be so cautious of the world. Working in the environmental field only amplifies that threatening feeling. I used to grow anxious and depressed, thinking that my impact as an individual would never suffice. Like the weight of the world rested on my shoulders, and I self-selected to crumble under it. I have done a lot of self work to alleviate myself of this burden, by placing my trust in the community. Trust in the resilience of people. Trust that I will grow old one day, and raise my children to carry on the legacy of good work that we, resilient people, established here.
I recognize that we each have an expiration date here on Earth; a time when our souls are called back to their original home. We are not immortal, and quite frankly, I don’t wish to be. The ephemeral nature of life is what makes it interesting and worth living. We are programmed for evolution, constant change, cycles of life and death. While I’m still here, I am determined to make each day count towards healing ourselves and Mama Earth, so many more generations can come to call this beautiful planet their home.
Cheers to growing old together, the inevitable and the beautiful. <3
