Some years ago, while working in Jewish communal service, I decided to go back to school and get a social work degree. I had worked for many years as a journalist and public relations executive, and later, as the executive director of a national agency. Although I had reached the upper echelon of Jewish communal service professionals, I found administrative work less satisfying than interacting directly with individuals and colleagues.
As I was always concerned with helping others, I decided a social work degree would be a good option. So, at the age of 53, I enrolled at Hunter College School of Social Work in New York City in hopes of finding fulfillment in an entirely new field.
My two years at Hunter had highs and lows. Highs included an internship working with teenage girls at an alternative high school in the Bronx and another at Jacobi Medical Center (now part of NYC Health and Hospitals), helping patients deal with health issues and family crises. But my classes were sometimes disappointing as my interest was in adolescence and the required courses were not always available.
As a result, by default, my focus became older adults. Little did I know that those courses would prepare me for some of the most satisfying experiences in my career, broaden my worldview, and provide me with inspiration in my own life.
And, of course, now I often write about older adults, which has helped me clarify my own thinking and those of other old folk as I navigate my later years.
In one of my social work classes on gerontology, we discussed a process commonly referred to as “Life Review.”
What is it exactly?
Life Review is when older adults reflect on their lives, the positives and negatives in their life stories. The goal, according to gerontologists, is to hopefully conclude that one’s life has been well lived and successful, perhaps not in the financial sense, but in beloved relationships, satisfying careers, special achievements, and good works.
There are those today who believe a Life Review is useful at other ages as well, but in my opinion, its purpose is not the same as that for older adults who are moving toward their final years, looking for some resolution and peace as they confront their mortality.
What is the Process?
As we age, we question our life decisions. What has been the quality of our marriage(s) and friendships? Were our career choices meaningful? What could we have done differently? Where did we fall short? What brought us satisfaction and pride? And how did we meet the challenges we faced? What, if anything, are we ashamed of?… Who have we hurt? Who has hurt us? Is it too late to repair a damaged relationship? You get the idea.
In speaking with friends, I find that the subject has many iterations but the process is almost universally the same. Most importantly, the results of our actions or inaction can linger in our psyches during our whole lives.
One friend shared with me the uncomfortable feelings she still experiences when she thinks of the high school teacher who made inappropriate remarks and engaged in physical touching that she was too embarrassed or scared to rebuff or to report.
Another friend married in her early seventies, not necessarily out of love, she admitted, but to put a ring on her finger, a long-term goal she had never realized earlier. As a result, she had always felt undesirable and unsuccessful.
Several women stayed in long-term marriages that were unhappy or even emotionally abusive, fearing the consequences of leaving the security of a two-income family or putting their children’s future in jeopardy.
Life Review is not just experienced by women.
A cherished childhood friend who lost both his parents before high school was sent to college by a local man in our tightly knit, heavily immigrant Jewish community. He was obviously trying to do a good deed. The school my friend went to was Catholic, and the Jewish boy, without parents and dealing with overwhelming feelings of loss, graduated as a practicing Catholic. Years later, he admitted to me that his conversion was an attempt to find the stability and belonging he had lost as a child.
When I asked him if he would consider returning to Judaism, he said he had stopped going to church many years before, but that he was Catholic more years than he was Jewish and would not feel comfortable returning. Ultimately, he lived his whole life never fitting into either world.
A second male friend recently shared with me that he had traveled so much for work that his wife had shouldered most of the family responsibilities during their children’s formative years. As he engages in his life review, he understands that the choices he made impacted his father/child relationships and accepts that he will be trying to make up for his early absences the rest of his life.
In my own case, I remember several instances of stealing as a young child, perhaps in need of attention from a cold and inattentive mother. Regret and shame followed me throughout my adulthood. Several years ago, I met “the girl next door” (who incidentally will be reading this). I confessed to taking some of her paper doll clothes during a playdate. When I apologized, she said she had never noticed. But the confession allowed me to assuage some of my feelings of guilt.
These stories may represent negative memories or regrets, but people also look back on cherished memories … close sibling or mother /child relationships, wonderful, fulfilling marriages, or personal satisfaction after exhibiting courage under fire, like dealing successfully with a life-threatening illness or job insecurity. Others demonstrated resilience and the strength needed to overcome poverty, abuse and/or deprivation.
A Life Review, to be meaningful, requires us to examine all aspects of our lives, the good, the bad, and the in between. Most people who can point to negative aspects in their life review also have positive elements they can be proud of.
The woman who regretted not speaking up about child abuse has lived with metastatic breast cancer for 40 years with courage and grace and has a special loving bond with her daughter and grandson. She is a beloved friend and a role model for me.
The childhood friend who converted became an orthopedic surgeon, and, in spite of his personal demons, led an exemplary life as a fine doctor, a healer, and a positive force in the life of his community and family.
But whatever we find, it is important to forgive ourselves for the decisions that we internalized in a negative light. We need to recognize that we are all imperfect beings and we did our best.
As I approach my 88th birthday, I find myself often in a self-reflective mood and want to feel I have done my best to be a supportive friend and neighbor, a loving parent and grandparent, and a constructive member of my community. We cannot change what went before, only what we do going forward. And as long as we are alive, we still have choices.
