Benefits of the aging brain

 The title of this blog seems counter-intuitive. It's almost contradictory. The phrase “aging brain” naturally brings to mind terms like “cognitive impairment” (nasty scary phrase), decline, dementia, or, at the least, forgetfulness and “senior moments.” But benefits? Is the aging brain in some ways superior to the young or middle-aged brain?

That’s what Ashton Applewhite, author of This Chair Rocks: A Manifesto Against Ageism, claims. At the beginning of her chapter on “The Older Brain”, she makes several affirmations:

--“Serious mental decline is not a normal or inevitable part of aging.”
--“Most forgetfulness is not Alzheimer’s, or dementia, or even necessarily a sign of cognitive impairment.”
--“About 20 percent of people in their nineties seem to escape cognitive decline entirely, and continue to perform as well as middle-aged people.”

Applewhite recognizes the realities of cognitive decline and dementia, something that causes fear in most of us. She also admits to what she calls “basic brain aging.” This refers to things like a decreasing ability to recall names or numbers on demand. It seems to getting harder to find the right words or remember where we left our glasses. Missing appointments happens more often. I’m no longer able to multitask like I did when I was a younger more productive woman. It’s easier to be distracted; I notice this when I try to contemplate or pray. All of this happens.

So, what are the benefits of the aging brain? Applewhite devotes most of the chapter to the following positive traits (that I sincerely hope are true):

--The aging brain is more emotionally resilient. She writes that “As we turn eighty, brain imaging shows frontal lobe changes that improve our ability to deal with negative emotions like anger, envy, and fear.” Apparently we have less social anxiety and fewer social phobias. “Even as its discrete processing skills degrade, the normal aging brain enables greater emotional maturity, adaptability to change, and levels of well-being.”

I can see that. While I still experience negative emotions and what I consider immature reactions to situations, in general I’m more at ease with my life. I used to be painfully shy, even into my middle years, but now I’m freer to speak up, hold my own in a group discussion, and even assume leadership roles. Sometime I look at myself and am amazed. And when I experience those angry or envious feelings, I recognize them, tell myself to “snap out of it and grow up!” Sometimes I listen to myself. (Sometimes I don’t.)

--“Brain changes can boost creativity.” Grandma Moses is a case in point. She didn’t start painting until her older years. Several friends have also discovered a talent for painting since they retired. I know I’ve never been as creatively active, but I also know I’ve never had so much time for writing, painting, or playing my guitar. Is leisure time the cause of my creative burst? Partly, of course. Is it also the benefit of my artistically aging brain? I’d like to think so.

-- Aging gives one the ability to use both sides of the brain. Now that idea fascinates me. When I was younger, I was good at school stuff (reading, writing, and even arithmetic, believe it or not) but I also loved to write poetry and dream up imaginary countries. So was I a left brain (reason) person or was I right brain (intuition)? I was told it had to be predominately one or the other.. Applewhite writes that “A 2001 brain imaging study out of Duke University showed that while younger subjects relied predominantly on one side of the brain or the other (depending on the task), older people began to use both sides in a more synchronized way.” Interesting. She means both at once, an ability to draw on both reason and intuition when facing a situation. Again, that’s something I’d like to think was true. True integration of personality. Sounds wholesome.

--“The older brain has access to more information.”  That seems logical, as long as we can remember all the information we have access to. Her application of this idea borders on hilarious. She says that “When a word or phrase takes time to come to mind, the pause may reflect not decline but mental processes at work. According to a growing number of studies, the apparent lapse reflects the fact that older brains are sifting through the store of information accumulated over a lifetime, filtering, placing information in context.” Concerning not being able to come up with the right word, Applewhite proposes that “Since older, educated people have larger vocabularies than people who haven’t been around as long…. it takes longer to find a word… because it’s a bigger job.”

So the next time I’m awkwardly groping for the right word, I’ll just say, “I know that word. Be patient. My experienced brain is processing my encyclopedic treasure trove of information. It’ll be worth your wait.”

--The aging brain has more ability to assimilate and prioritize information. Applewhite calls this wisdom. It’s a capacity for integration and an ability to handle ambiguity. “Wisdom allows for seemingly contradictory ideas or events to exist in our minds with less dissonance.”  If this is true, we older people may be better able to handle the current political situation. But so far, I see us elders as frustrated and confused as the rest of the country. Maybe we just need more processing time. Then we will be at ease with it all and share our conclusions with the electorate. I hope this happens before November.

I like Applewhite’s positive take on the aging brain. It gives me hope. But I do wonder about some things. For example, it seems to me these benefits are not automatic. Wouldn’t they apply mainly to people who have lived a reasonably good life, who, while not perfect, have gradually matured in positive ways. Do people not reap what they sow? What about people who have lived through trauma and not received healing? Does old age heal? I think not, not age alone. And how cross-cultural are these conclusions? Does the brain age differently in different cultures? Does the aging brain of a Cherokee or an Aymara person respond differently than that of the middle-class North American? Does this list of the benefits of the aging brain express something universal about human beings? Or do cultural and personal variables make a difference? I wonder.

In the meantime, I’ll take all the good news I can get.

If I can’t figure something out, it’s because my mature brain is processing, integrating, following the path of wisdom and this takes time. Surely that’s what’s happening. Surely.

Who needs multitasking anyway?

Still two-years-old

One of my pandemic projects was gathering memories and writing a memoir. The exercise proved useful in various ways—helping me see overall patterns, and letting gratitude bubble to the surface in a dark time. I was interested in noting how much of the past I relived as I remembered and wrote. I experienced the emotions I had as a child or young person. And I recognized that I still face the same types of situations and feel the same emotions now as an older adult, although on a different scale.

That’s what remembering literally means—bringing together the scattered members into a whole. It’s Humpty Dumpty with a better ending: all the king’s horses and all the king’s men actually manage to put Humpty together again. I discovered all the past ages, developmental stages, and transitions are alive and well inside this present me.

I’m an excited three-year-old child, standing in the grass on Easter morning, told to go ahead and find the colored eggs and chocolate bunnies that I know are out there. I’m eight years old, terrified by the two bullies who live down the street, who chase me home from school one day, swinging a stick. Today I have moments of panic thinking about a global bully who swings the threatening stick of nuclear power.

I’m that high school freshman, desperate about slow development and what she considers a sub-standard wardrobe; she wants nothing more out of life than to be a cheerleader. Can you believe that even now I get bursts of jealousy over the better dressed older ladies in the retirement home?

I’m the college graduate, soon to be married, afraid but also shining with hope, excited for all that’s coming my way. Even the older me feels that way some mornings.

I’m in my mid-forties, caught up in the stresses of juggling goals, accomplishments, failures, and the need to establish my place in the order of things. Yep, even today I can find myself needing to assert my place and my role.

I’m that woman approaching the age of retirement, juggling faith and doubt, sometimes wondering what the fuss was all about. And once again I’ve become a grandma for the first time, amazed at how such a little mite could inspire feelings of awe and wonder.

It's all me. And in the strange grammar of life, it’s all present tense.

When someone today asks me how old I am, I tell them I’m 76. But I know that’s only a partial truth. Actually, I’m two-years old. I’m eight. I’m 14. I’m 22 and 35. I’ve just celebrated my 40^th birthday. I’m 52 and 67.

That’s how old I am. Glad you asked.

I wonder if maturity means finally being able to bring our whole life back together, to welcome the past into the present, to recognize that all of it, all the ages, are us. That probably requires forgiveness, not only of those who’ve hurt us, but of ourselves, for all the times we behaved in ways that were petty or mean or just plain selfish.

I’m learning to hold all those ages and stages of my life with compassion, taking my cue from how God sees me. While that doesn’t give me the freedom to stomp my two-year-old foot and throw a fit, I can recognize any present foot-stomping tendencies, tell them There, there, settle down, and laugh at myself. It’s all in there. It’s all me.

And now, there’s something I’d like to know about you.

Mainly, how old are you?