When Did I Become an Old Lady?

and other anxiety-inducing thoughts

Is this what they see when they see me coming? (AI imagined me at the age of my father.)

Apparently, I’m old now.

I had a self-induced panic attack the other day because the nurse didn’t care that the blood pressure cuff was too tight.

That’s it. That’s the story.

She cinched it like I was a medieval roast, and when I flinched and said, “That hurts,” she just… didn’t say anything. No apology. No “Oh, sorry.” Not even a grunt of acknowledgment. Just stared at her screen like she hadn’t just tried to pop my arm off.

And I spiraled.

I didn’t yell or cry—I’m not that brave.

I just shut down. Emotionally short-circuited. Gave her one-word answers. Turned into a walking icicle with not so much as a polite smile. No, I scowled. I asked her,—giving her a second chance—if others said the same thing, and she said the least she could, “Sometimes.” That was it, “sometimes.”

Then she proceeded to talk to me like a fussy child.

When I saw the doctor, she could see I was a mess. So, I told her I didn’t want to see that nurse ever again because she was unkind to me. Because apparently I’m seven years old and need a sticker and a juice box to survive healthcare.

But what really got me wasn’t the cuff or its blood vessel bursting tightness. No, it was the coldness. The fact that someone could see me in pain and not care. That she could treat me like I was being dramatic or silly or—and this is where it really stung—like I was old.

And that was enough fuel to the fire of my panic: I realized she was treating me the way we tend to treat those who are older than us. You know what I mean. The tone of voice. The dismissiveness. The assumption that their concerns are annoying little inconveniences.

And that’s when I that’s when I had the sinking, slightly hysterical self-realization: She thinks I’m old!

When did that happen? No one warned me. No one handed me a pamphlet. I just woke up one day, and apparently, now I’m a delicate geriatric flower who complains about her blood pressure cuff.

That makes me angry. Not just offended—angry.

Righteous, confused, slightly over-the-top, angry.

Not because I need everyone to coddle me (okay, maybe a little), but because I was raised in kindness.

My parents were soft-voiced, gentle souls. If you did something that other parents would punish, they never raised a finger or an eyebrow. So when people are mean to me—even mildly so—it hits hard. My system wasn’t trained for this kind of emotional brutality.

And I know, I know—most people probably grew up in stricter homes, with yelling or even what felt like harsh expectations, and so they developed the emotional calluses you need to survive the DMV.

Not me.

I’m a bare-skinned soul in a cactus world. A lamb in line at urgent care.

So when a nurse is cold, I feel not just pain, but forsaken.

And then I get mad for feeling that way.

And then I get mad that I got mad.

And then I try to be like Jesus, but remember He flipped tables and briefly consider flipping the blood pressure monitor just to be biblically consistent.

But here’s the thing:

I don’t actually want to toughen up.

I just want to anchor better.

I want to stop giving emotionally unavailable people the power to unhinge me. Please!!

I want to carry the warmth of human kindness so deeply rooted in me that someone else’s frost can’t freeze it. And that maybe, just maybe, I can show them a kindness they have rarely experienced.

I want to remember that I am not made or unmade by other people’s responses.

Their coldness isn’t my identity.

Their indifference doesn’t get the final word. Does it? Asking for a friend.

Ok, maybe I’ll never be the kind of person who shrugs it off when someone treats me like a nuisance—but I can be the kind of person who remembers that Jesus never does.

So no, I won’t be seeing that nurse again.

But I will be trying to walk out of the clinic a little lighter. A little more secure.

Not because people are kinder, but because God is.

And He always will be.

Notes to self, and whoever else might feel me here:

• Not Every Cold Person Is an Emergency - “Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you,” declares the Lord.” —Jeremiah 1:8

• God Is Still Kind, Even When People Aren’t - “The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love.” —Psalm 145:8 And, I wanna be more like Him.

• I’m not weak because I crave gentleness. I’m just reflecting the God who is gentle. Remember everyone: “A gentle answer turns away wrath.” —Proverbs 15:1

So, I’m trying to tell myself, even though the nurse’s coldness took away my peace faster than a makeup wipe in a heat wave, I don’t have to live in despair.

God doesn’t treat me like an old lady who doesn’t know anything.

He treats me like His own.

Loved. Seen. Heard.

Even when my arm is sore and my soul is spiraling.

Leave a comment. Please!
It’s lonely being old and young at the same time.