I’m Younger in My Sixties Than I’ve Ever Been Before

It didn’t happen overnight, this late-in-life sense of youthful possibility; it crept up on me slowly, like time-released vitamins. Once I hit 50 I felt liberated. I no longer had to maintain my status as a sex object. At 60 I experienced even more freedom. Then, over the past few years I started noticing that I felt good, really good — calmer, saner, more at peace with myself and the world. It wasn’t the result of any outer event or accomplishment but more a inner feeling of well-being. And it’s not that I don’t have problems; I have less money and security now than I did when I was younger. Life isn’t perfect and the problems still exist but somehow the angst associated with them has dissolved or perhaps, like a fever, it has run its course.

No one is more surprised at this than me. I’m not by nature a happy person; I lean towards melancholy, depth psychology and Russian novels. Nor have I lived a charmed life. Quite the opposite; my life has always been a struggle. I grew up in a wealthy, Jewish suburb on Long Island; the only problem was that my parents were poor and Christian. My mother was schizophrenic, my father was alcoholic and abusive; as a result I had problems with men, issues with food and instead of low self esteem, I had no self esteem.

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