I have not yet faced the coming of The Limit. It comes to most of us, some sooner than others, a one-way, permanent restriction after which life is never quite so free again.
The Limit is that moment when something bad kicks in, a life-changing realisation that things you used to take for granted may never happen again. A diagnosis, a loss, an incident, a change of state, whatever. It can manifest itself in many ways, but before The Limit you have multiple options and after The Limit the walls start closing in.
I'm not trying to be maudlin here, nor am I building up to the revelation that The Limit has come to me. But it probably will one day, maybe even on multiple fronts, and all I'm saying is that I recognise this fact and I'm sorry if it's happened to you already.
The Limit is about quality of life, not end of life. The Limit is about how you adapt and adjust, or how you don't. The Limit is about changed circumstances and behavioural constraints and can be indiscriminate in its timing and extent.
It's usually medically based, but not always. It's usually unexpected, but not always. It's usually gradual, but not always. And it's usually annoying, indeed exasperating, but not always, and sometimes only if you allow it to be.
Often it's your body crossing a threshold beyond which it'll never quite work properly again. Your mobility, your sight, your circulation, your perception, some organ... all of these can be the target as your cells conspire to reduce your lifestyle options. You used to climb hills, party all night, drive cars, even get out of bed, but various activities suddenly pass beyond your capability.
Sometimes a day comes along, the Limiting Day, after which you'll never attempt a particular activity again. You're too tired, you're too unstable, you're too unwell, all sorts of reasons can conspire to slam the door on your ambition. It's not just that you'll never go abroad again, never ride a bike again or never admire another sunset, it's that you recognise this behaviour is now off limits.
It can be unexpected, a bolt from the blue that knocks you sideways. You thought you had your life on track, you thought you had time on your side, you'd made plans. Then someone gives you bad news, or the diagnosis becomes self-evident, and the future suddenly looks very different indeed.
You might have a hunch The Limit is coming but it hasn't arrived yet. This might be from family history, it might be a nagging doubt, it might even be a devil-may-care attitude you recognise will catch up with you in the end. But this is when you really ought to be going all out to do all the things you enjoy before you can't do them any more, because the last thing you want to be left with is regrets.
Sometimes The Limit is so serious you don't recognise it's happened. Incidents can mask your perception, make you insensible, even knock you unconscious. It must be easier to cope with The Limit if you have no understanding of it, but that doesn't mean it's something you'd ever want to have happened. There's your life proceeding as normal, then suddenly The Limit strikes and the meaningful part of your existence is instantly over.
But sometimes The Limit is sequential, a series of setbacks that repeatedly shrink your boundaries. Initially you can go anywhere do anything, then you discover you're doing less and less, and eventually not really very much at all. A care home is often the ultimate in shrunken boundaries, a building you'll spend almost all your time in, ultimately all of it, with The Limit being the day you moved in.
If you're unfortunate you don't get one Limit, you get several. People often find a way to cope with a single tribulation, to make the most of the circumstances in which they find themselves. But a second or third Limit can be a real trial, like fate dealt you all the bad cards, as the walls close in on multiple sides.
Some Limits look permanent but turn out to be reversible. Just because you're restricted now doesn't mean you always will be, and however terrible your difficulties it doesn't always mean they can't be eased. But The Limit is often a one-way gate to a diminished future, one you have to accept you'll never pass back through, and maybe you have more one-way doors to come.
Sometimes the onset of The Limit brings with it a ticking clock. Not only are things going to be worse from this point onwards but they'll also be getting worse as time progresses. It's not just that you have a Limit, your existence potentially does too and that's quite something to get your head around. By contrast other Limits have no direct effect on your mortality, they're just something you're going to have to endure from this day forward.
Some things aren't a Limit, they're a Niggle. They nag away at our everyday lives but don't physically restrict us, only maybe mentally. We think we've got it bad but in fact we're just uncomfortable, and resolve and stoicism will see us through. Never mistake a Niggle for a Limit.
The Limit isn't always medical. It could be financially-based, a sudden collapse in circumstances you'll never reverse. It could be opportunity-based, a lifestyle or a dream snuffed out. It could be an external imposition, as perhaps the residents of Berlin felt when the wall went up, or would have done if they'd known how long it was going to last. But I suspect I have physiological Limits on my mind because they're the most likely to stop me in my tracks.
Lockdown was a good example of a Limit, an unprecedented curtailment of freedoms for the greater good. For a prolonged period we had to find ways to discover meaning in a much-reduced existence, assuming the experience didn't limit us further in the process. Ultimately it wasn't The Limit because it was reversed, but for many it will have come as shocking confirmation of how swiftly one's boundaries can be restricted.
Some people are lucky and The Limit never comes. They make it through to the end of life and nothing slowed them down, at least significantly. For others it comes early in life, too early to have lived up to their potential, but they find a way to work round it all the same. But a potential accident is always round the corner, or a sudden catastrophic failure of some part of your body, and The Limit can be upon you before you've even had time to react.
I wouldn't have written this post twenty years ago, I'd never have given The Limit a second thought. And I suspect I'd write it very differently in twenty years time, most probably from personal experience, assuming I was around to write it at all.
When you have decades of healthy life left, or think you do, The Limit is not on your agenda. As time passes and your allotted span decreases, not only do Limits loom more closely but you see them more often in those around you, and if others can be cruelly limited then so could you.
I have not yet reached my Limit, but each passing day brings me closer to it. There will one day be a last day before it strikes, a final burst of normality which I may not recognise at the time. But it pays to recognise that The Limit will likely come, and to make the most of my unlimited existence while it persists.
