Ego Integrity

Remember the Identity Crisis?  The idea came from Erick Erickson, who was a Danish-German-American psychoanalyst, who studied with Anna Freud and was a real sobersides. His books were dry as a desert-dweller’s belly button lint, but the Identity Crisis was a smash hit.

And why not – everybody wanted one.  There we were on a track from high school to college and headed for a career, marriage, and children.  Going out and finding ourselves sounded like fun, and it fit perfectly with our desire to be self-involved.  We loved to pour out angst, especially to the opposite sex. Some of us liked the identity crisis so much that later on we had to have a Midlife Crisis and cut loose again. 

What you may not remember is that Erickson described eight stages of psychological development, each with its own crisis, and no, Midlife wasn’t one of them. When you get to be a fogy, your crisis is Ego Integrity Verses Despair.  

Despair is a pretty dramatic term and sounds a lot worse than Role Confusion, which is what you get if you don’t find your Identity.  It’s pretty easy to figure out why fogies get gloomy.  Let’s face it, the Parcheesi table at the senior center isn’t crowded with the movers and shakers of the earth.  A lot of the important things you used to do you don’t anymore.

Pretty soon they put you in the nursing home, where they feed you powdered eggs and leave you to deal with the ancient nemesis of mankind, Death.  They try not to mention his name, but extreme fogiedom is like Picket’s Charge, and it’s hard not to notice your comrades are falling to the left and right.  You have to do philosophy when you can’t remember that the next meal is lunch.

When you get to that point this Ego Integrity business seems worth looking into.  What you’re after is wisdom.  There have been various theories as to what this is.  If you were a Stoic it might consist of falling on your sword, but you notice an absence of pointed objects within reach. 

Erickson defined wisdom as “informed and detached concern with life, itself in the face of death, itself.”  Annette and I were discussing this quote with our coffee this morning, which is good because the aid of a significant other is supposed to be helpful in resolving the crisis.  “Why is it concern with life, itself in the face of death, itself?” she asked, “and not simply concern with life in the face of death.”  We didn’t figure that out, but maybe it’s just that we’re both writers and hate unnecessary words. 

I guess, if you’re satisfied with your life as you’ve lived it, death doesn’t seem so bad.  I’m not sure how you attain detachment; I get riled over the cost of my favorite bourbon.  I guess acceptance will have to do.  Listen, if I had this all straight in my mind, I’d explain it to you.  Meantime I’m trying to stay concerned with life.  That seems to be the thing.