Peer Pressure

I have a confession. I’m secretly smug when it comes to how I stack up against my peers. You’d think I was competing with them for a date with some big man on campus or for the Miss Teen America pageant. But the peers I’m writing about are my present-day contemporaries, not my long-ago “rivals” in high school or college.

So spill it: Do you frequently congratulate yourself on your youthful appearance or the number of steps you took on a particular day? When you see one of your peers hobbling along Main Street, her back bent into the shape of an upside-down “J,” do you react to her plight with compassion, or are you overly pleased with your straight back and confident stride?

It's altogether possible that competitiveness is baked into our psyches as Americans. Our culture isn’t known for the value it places on fellow-feeling and empathy.

If I’m foolish enough to promote my virtuous life choices out loud, saying something like “I can’t understand how so-and-so can watch TV all day—I’d never do that,” my wise dinner companion might reply, “We shouldn’t compare our lives to others.” Actually, that was my conscience speaking. And sometimes, I heed its promptings.

But sometimes, I don’t.

The Tyranny of the Should

Our culture and history notwithstanding, I’m ready to name another culprit where elder competitiveness is concerned: the constant use of the imperative tense by doctors and wellness experts. Do this, do that. Exercise at least 5 days a week. Climb stairs. Volunteer. Find a hobby. Join a bird-watching group. Eat kale.

My point is that the imperative tense, however well-meant by experts and well-supported by data and conventional wisdom, injects anxiety into the bloodstream of an older adult. And anxiety breeds competitiveness. Soon, we start living in thrall to our Fitbit and judging others for not following suit.

The Need for Healthy Skepticism

            We hear you. No need to keep saying “eat this” and “don’t eat that.” Anyone likely to receive tips for healthy ageing in their inbox already knows, more or less, what to eat and what to avoid.

            However, what’s considered healthy tends to change every few years, so what passes for expert consensus doesn’t tend to stay put. For example, a debate is raging at this very moment regarding the optimal level of protein consumption for older adults. Some assert, quite correctly, that we lose muscle mass as we age, and that the best way to restore it is to get more protein. Others pooh-pooh that argument as overly mechanistic.

            As Barbara Ehrenreich notes in Natural Causes (her last book), when it comes to diet, medical advice is marked by a certain vagueness. Should oldsters opt for the Paleo, DASH, vegan, gluten-free, or Mediterranean diet? And as for the last one on that list, which foods, exactly, does it include, she wonders. Exercise recommendations are notoriously confusing as well. Often, it’s “get moving” and “stay active.” These terms leave a lot of wiggle room. The unathletic among us (mea culpa) may not have a clue as to how to obey these fuzzy commands.

            So why do we put up with all the nagging and all the constant repetition of what we’ve already been told at every medical appointment for decades, and by the wellness industry, the AARP, and various nonprofits targeting seniors? Here’s my take on that question: Given the uncertainties of ageing—for example, will I develop dementia, become disabled, lose my independence?—we crave certainty. We want to live long and prosper, to borrow a phrase, but there’s no guarantee that we’ll be able to do so, no matter how many steps we take or superfoods we consume.

Unintended consequences

            I have another confession, which should be obvious by now: I’ve always hated being told what to do. Being anti-authoritarian comes with the territory if you were a 1960s antiwar activist like me, and that sensibility hasn’t faded over time.

            But let me return to my earlier theory as to why the imperative tense is bad for older folks: It fosters anxiety, and anxiety fosters the sense that we’re alone in our struggle to incorporate all the not-always-helpful advice being hurled at us from all sides.

            Barbara Ehrenreich, that wise, feisty author, has more to say on this very topic. The successful ageing literature would have us believe that “a long and healthy life is within the reach of anyone who will submit to the required discipline…Health and longevity must be earned through constant activity.

“It’s up to you and you alone,” she continues—a recipe for the atomized, uber-individualistic, competitive society we all know and don’t necessarily love.

            How’m I doing? Am I “fit” compared to my peers? Will I outlive them? Come to think of it, I don’t want to outlive them, especially if I know and like them. I could end up pretty lonely without peers to keep me company on this uncertain journey called ageing.