The Psychology of Aging

Nicole Heyman
Age Five: Existential Depression
Everything is difficult for you. There is no simple. Anger swells from a place deep inside of
you, a place so deep you can only sense its presence enough to know its there. She thinks of
you as strange, quiet and awkward. She is wrong. You are a calculator. Every step, every gaze,
every turn of a page: calculated, premeditated, deliberate. Your teachers watch you closely,
assuming that cheating is the only explanation. You can offer another: the work is too easy.
Academia is the easy part, living is the opposite. You walk home from school, think about
growing up and stumble upon a pebble. You kick it with your feet as you contemplate the
relationship between humanity and the greater good. We are all gears, you think, ever
turning in the Universes machine. You are taught to think that you are a single gear, tailored
to fit the part of any machine you can imagine; but that is just it: you cannot imagine a single
one. You are a mass produced gear with a dull, copper finish and you are meant to turn until
you rust and once you have rusted God will reach into his bag and replace you with a new,
shiny, greased gear that can function much better than you ever did. So what is the point of
trying to fit into the chains just to be exchanged?
Age Nine: The Realization of Mortality
Death knocks and your grandmother answers, just in time to miss sending you off to fourth
grade. You are carted off to the neighbors house: they will make things better. You are given
tea, chamomile with honey to soothe your throat. You have been crying for hours. You didnt
even know her that well. Memories begin to blur together and as your eyelids flutter you lie
completely still; you pray that a knock will make home of your door, too. It is the first time
death has revealed himself to you; what a rude introduction, how indirect of him. You dream
of drowning in his cloak and then remember you havent got that much time to wait. You
have known of the brevity of life since you were young. But never did you realize that death
only reveals himself when the clock runs out. It all becomes clear now. Your grandmother
lies in an open casket and you are told not to attend; it would be too hard for you. Little did
anyone know that the hardest part has long come and gone. The ideas of heaven and hell
have faded away, and a man in a dark cloak has taken their place in your dreams.
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Age Fourteen: The Bystander Effect

You walk into the house after welcoming your guests. Your fathers aunt is standing in the
kitchen talking to your cousin. She hands her a necklace with a sandal on it, one from the trip
she has just returned from. Your cousin doesnt hide her disgust. She walks out of the room
as you enter, making sure to ignore your presence. Your fathers aunt acts excited to see you,
tells you shes brought you a present from her trip. She hands you the sandal necklace. Your
family takes their seats around the large table, ready for prayer. You sit quietly in the center,
waiting for someone to look up and notice that you are crying. One by one, pairs of eyes begin
to gravitate toward you, focus on you, yet lack concern for you. Not a single person utters a
word of fretfulness as the saltwater drops pool on your plate. Convoluted looks are
exchanged across the table and you excuse yourself out of fear of being rude. No one chases
after you but they are all wondering why someone else hasnt gotten up. Ashamed to be the
first to attend to the outlier, they stay in their seats. Prayers are finished and the dinner is
served. Your door is locked and you await a knock, whether it be from death or a friend. The
knocks never come so you stir in your glum and this is the first time you have ever felt this
alone. It is dark in your room, not even your shadow is there for you and you wonder what is
it like to die with the walls closing in. You emerge from your room and take your place at the
table; neither your aunt nor your mother has missed you. All eyes glance toward the chair
you have so noisily shifted, no word about your emotions, not even a comforting finger is
lifted. They all eat in silence, then sip coffee to music and say goodnight while the moon is
still high. You give kisses and hugs to everyone but your favorite part of the night was
goodbye.
Age Sixteen: The Focusing Effect
Your last year was one youd dread forever. The memories still pain your thoughts and your
tears have yet to fade. The family is together for dinner again, and this time they all notice
you havent spoken out of turn, yet they all wish youd open up. They glare at you instead of
their prayer books and you remember the previous year: the hand-me-down gifts and the
absent stares. You keep to yourself out of fear that your emotional instability will become the
familys talk. You take a glance at a self-help book, one that was purchased for a cousin; a gift

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from an aunt. She gets embarrassed and yells for you to return it. You do so only after the
back passage is read and this angers her. Tired of the attention always on her, you take a
walk outside; a mature way to blow off steam. Upon your return, you witness an intricate
fight, one that cannot be unseen. Your aunts arms are flung at your mother and her hands
strike across her face, making it impossible to tell your aunt you love her, and mean it, ever
again. You walk back into the house that you left, wondering if anyone is aware. Your
grandfather tells you to apologize to your cousin and you respectfully decline; you tell him
you dont care. You tell him you left the house because the family prefers her, and he has
confirmed this. The fight is not your fault; they have all proven your point. You leave for the
night wishing you had never shown up at all; itll be three months before anyone so much as
calls.
Age Eighteen: The Paradox of Choice
You have always had one path carved out for you. This top-notch school will lead to that topnotch job and you will marry a top-notch man with a top-notch income. He should make you
happy and he should provide for you. You will meet him at the top-notch school you have
always dreamed of attending. This path is calculated, much like you have always been. There
have never been many choices for you. Any choice was made based on a series of emotional
and social calculations that you believed would benefit you the most, until you receive the
rejection letter. The letter breaks the chains of which you were held captive. Your calculated
life disappears before your eyes and you are finally able to see your life for what you truly
want it to be. You remember your father and his stern words of wisdom. You remember your
mother and her undying loyalty. You remember that an education does not define you and
you are suddenly relinquished of the burden that accompanies top-notch. Now all that you
are left with is the twelve other options and your twelve possible futures. You revel in the
ability to choose for yourself, but you overlook the paralysis that comes with too many
choices.
Age Twenty: Cognitive Dissonance
You are surrounded by people that love you. You are questioning if you are loved. You are
learning the meaning of life. You are trying to assign life meaning. You meditate every day.

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You cant seem to find inner peace. You have fallen in love. You constantly feel alone. You
adore yourself. You do not adore what you look like. Your life is filled with contradictions and
you are drowning in a sea of dissonance. The internal and the external never seem to
converge, always leaving you in purgatory. You make home of it; you find happiness in the inbetweens of life, making sure to never be to on an extreme side of anything. You are happy in
the middle. In a world attempting to force you to one side, you have renovated a spot in the
grey area and this pleases you. However, you constantly wonder how long itll be before you
start to miss the colors.

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