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The Slow Theft of Autonomy
The hardest part of growing old isn’t losing what your body can do. It’s watching other people decide what you’re still allowed to do.
There comes a point in life when people stop asking what you want and start telling you what is best for you.
It doesn’t happen overnight. There is no official declaration, no birthday when the government mails you a certificate announcing that your judgment is now questionable. Instead, it happens gradually, disguised as concern, wrapped in affection, and delivered by people who insist they only have your best interests at heart.
Maybe it starts with driving. You miss an exit on the interstate or take a little longer to back out of a parking space, and suddenly your family wants to discuss whether you should still be behind the wheel. Never mind that you’ve been driving for fifty years without a serious accident or that your forty-year-old nephew spends half his commute staring at his phone. Your driving has become a family concern because you’ve crossed some invisible boundary between being an adult and being an elderly adult.
Then comes the house. The stairs are too steep, the yard is too much work, and the bathtub is dangerous. Wouldn’t you be happier somewhere smaller? Somewhere safer? Somewhere with people your own age? Before long, the life you’ve spent decades building has become…
