A Psychoanalyst/Psychohistorian Looks at Aging

At age eighty-two, it is not surprising to be asked to look back over my lifetime. The request implies having seen a lot, but it also means there is not much more observation to be made. Certainly, there are advantages to being in my eighties. First, it is long past the time when you have to prove something to others or to yourself. You are what you are. You’re not going to change others’ opinions of you; nor is it important that you do so. More importantly, you know the truth about yourself. Second, by the eighties you have gained an enormous amount of knowledge and objectivity. Third, people who know you, or even strangers, become more considerate. For example, this past summer during a very warm day, I was walking home from the office (a relatively short distance, but uphill) when a young woman driving by in her car stopped and insisted on giving me a lift. She believed it was too hot and strenuous for such an elderly gentleman to be walking uphill. I did not want to offend her by refusing her kindness so I accepted and thanked her. Throughout this essay, I will survey the adjustments, costs, and psychology of the aging process.

The difficult part of aging is when some loss of recent memory or another element of mental acuity is experienced as a personal threat. All types of defensive reactions are then triggered. One such reaction is struggling intensely, if not belligerently, to prove something to others, but really to yourself. Having such fears about the loss of some recent memory can cause doubt in terms of self-knowledge and a complete loss of objectivity in many important areas. Another defensive response is that of friends and family who would normally be feeling kindness and affection for you, but who now must guard them-

Page 122

selves against anxious belligerency. Fortunately, I am able to convince myself that I do not fit into any of these categories or have any of these defenses.

While physiology and genetics play a significant role in aging, having a good sense of humor about oneself and this world is invaluable. The greatest benefits of all come from insight, kindness to oneself and others, and the capacity to love.

My work as a psychoanalyst impacts my research and writing as a psychohistorian, and causes me to think about what the aging process and its analysis has to offer historians. Certainly, the knowledge accumulated over a lifetime and the objectivity of age may allow the recognition of certain truths. Historians, who usually having been taught a distortion of the past in school, consciously and unconsciously continue to distort the truth. To start with my recommendation is to doubt whatever is told to you, but look with interest at who is saying it, examine what their evidence for it is, and then probe their reasoning. Next find conflicting interpretations and apply the same methodology to them. Psychoanalysis requires self-knowledge helping to avert the distortion of history, but too few historians have had this advantage and not even all psychohistorians have had it. Of course, psychoanalysis does not in itself definitively avert distortions while doing history, but it helps.

Major advantages stemming from being a psychoanalyst include an in-depth knowledge of human nature and the self-knowledge gained from working to understand the dynamics of the analysand’s (patient’s) problems in the past, in their current life, and in a current analytic session. To do this effectively, it is essential to observe your own (the analyst’s own) internal reactions and associations the countertransference. The more psychoanalysis is practiced, the more the clinician’s self-analysis creates greater objectivity. Similarly, in the area of psychohistory, for me aging has the advantage of increased understanding.

In addition to improving my abilities as a psychoanalyst, age has improved my approach to gardening. Many years ago, I devoted a lot of effort to the flower gardens we have about our home, as well as a moderately large vegetable garden. To make life easier and to protect an aging back, I raised three large vegetable beds about two and one half to three feet high with a built-in sprinkler system. Years ago, in wanting to completely control the outcome of my garden, I devoted a great deal of attention to dealing with the bugs, fungus, weeds, and woodland creatures. With the wisdom of age, I have learned to share with the animals that are more natural to this area than are humans and that a weed is only an unwanted flower. Interestingly, I enjoy my gardens more, but with less effort. I also believe that my more relaxed attitude with the garden has improved my ability to function as a psychoanalyst. My garden has taught me to be more comfortable with uncertainty, especially in relation to humanity.

In addition to gardening, another avocation has been traveling. When my wife, my children, and I were much younger, we would go camping several times a year. We preferred the mountains and the wild areas in national parks and forests classified as for rugged “outpost camping.” As the children began to travel by themselves or with their young families; my wife and I continued these outdoor activities. We did more backpacking into the mountains, walking ten to twenty miles a day. As time took its toll on our knees and other parts of our bodies, we evolved into heli-hikers flown by a helicopter to a lodge at a 6,000-foot elevation in the Canadian Rockies to stay with about forty other guests. Each day four groups are flown by helicopter to a remote area, where they walk for one and a half hours across alpine meadows and glaciers with two mountain climbing guides with walkie-talkies. The five-day trip includes four such “drops” a day to different sites offering different hikes. Although still tiring, this Heli hiking was quite gratifying and not displeasing to one’s knees and cardiovascular apparatus.

After doing this for about fifteen years in the Canadian Rockies, it became difficult to kneel while entering and exiting the helicopter. Now we visit the mountains by car, take chairlifts, or have someone drive us there in a special four-wheel-drive vehicle that taxes our bodies much less. It’s not the same, but it’s not too bad, and there are always the memories. In fact, is not that the most valuable thing we have about life’s experiences, our memories?

My wife and I purposely avoided the more relaxed vacations until we couldn’t do more strenuous activity. For example, thirty-nine years ago, we spent three days in Florence. It was wonderful, with forty museums within walking distance of the heart of the city even if we only had time to visiting a few

Page 123

of them. We promised ourselves that we would return to devote weeks to visit museums and imbibing with all our senses what Florence had to offer. Last year in May we spent two weeks staying in a modest hotel in the very heart of Florence, walking a few miles every day to a variety of museums. Of course, we had to rest frequently to sip coffee and eat gelato.

The example of my traveling (at least three trips a year) has favorably impacted on my patient population who incline to emulate it. Travel has many advantages, both educationally and psychologically. Psychologically, there is a temporary reduction of symptoms of anxiety and depression, commonly due to the fantasy of getting away from the external environment of home, which they consciously and unconsciously believe is the problem. However, the more valuable result is that as an “outsider” to a different culture it gives them an opportunity for objectivity about the differences and similarities.

Travel has also had additional benefits for me as a psychohistorian. Every time I go to a different environment, I am interested in understanding as much about it as I can through its culture, history, and group psychology. Obviously, this leads to psychohistorical thinking, and usually writing for my own pleasure.

Although there are still other advantages to being an older psychoanalyst there are some disadvantages. A prospective analysand wants to know if the psychoanalyst is competent and will remain so throughout treatment, which may run for five years or longer. The individual then justifiably wonders how long the elderly analyst will remain in a state of competency. The elderly analyst must be honest in answering this question. Furthermore, what if the analyst and the analysand agree on the security of at least five years of competency, but this proves to have been a false hope? The simple answer is referral to another analyst. The analyst may remain competent to function in some measure as a diagnostician and short-term therapist but not as a psychoanalyst. The elderly therapist should be honest in self-appraisal while staying in contact with kind and understanding colleagues who maintain a more objective view of the situation.

I will close this autobiographical discussion by adding that I am in the active practice of psychoanalysis, professor at three medical schools, teacher at a law school, an active member in many professional scientific organizations, and the author of a few articles each year. Unfortunately, I do not hike in the mountains with my wife anymore, but I still like a few miles of hiking in the woods and rolling hills.

Page 124