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I love my friends more than I can say. Maybe it’s because I didn’t have many growing up. Or maybe it’s because, at this stage of my life, I finally understand just how important friendship really is. Whatever the reason, my friends are a big part of why I can honestly say I am happier today than I have ever been.
It’s interesting to look back at my younger self and realize how little importance I placed on friendship. For much of my adult life, I poured most of my energy into working and my career. I was busy, independent, and driven, and the fact that I didn’t have many close friends didn’t seem like a big deal. I had grown accustomed to being alone and doing things by myself. For a long time, I convinced myself that being independent meant I didn’t need anyone else. It wasn’t until after my divorce from my husband of sixteen years that I began to understand the difference between being alone and being lonely. Suddenly, the life I had built around work and marriage no longer felt complete. Somewhere along the way, I realized I had neglected something I didn’t even know I was missing: close friends who I could bare my soul to and be myself around without worrying about judgement. Sure, I had people I could meet for dinner, go to a movie, or play tennis with on occasion. But looking back, I wouldn’t describe many of those relationships as close friendships. Some of that was probably my fault. Because I never really let people see who I was. I certainly didn’t let them see the pain I was carrying. It wasn’t until I started seeing a therapist that I began to understand that if I wanted to create a happier life outside of work, I needed to make friendships a priority. I also had to learn that close friends require honesty, trust, vulnerability, and sometimes forgiveness. None of those things came easy for me. They weren’t skills I had learned growing up. No one in my family talked about their emotions. Instead, feelings were often ignored, pushed aside, or simply left unspoken. For years, I poured myself into my work and took care of myself—physically, emotionally, and financially. Independence felt safe. The less I depended on other people, the less chance there was of being disappointed or hurt. Eventually, though, I realized that independence came with a price. By protecting myself from getting hurt, I was also closing myself off from the possibility of meaningful friendships. I began to understand that being independent didn’t have to mean being isolated. I could still take care of myself and let people in. I could drop the mask and allow others to see not just the strong and confident person, but the vulnerable and insecure me—and trust they wouldn’t walk away. That vulnerability taught me something I wish I’d known sooner: it’s never too late to make a new friend. The person who becomes important to you at 60, 70, or 80 may be someone you haven’t even met yet. Just let that sink in for a moment. Somewhere out there could be a person who will make you laugh, offer encouragement when you need it, introduce you to new things, or simply sit beside you when life gets hard. Like any relationship, friendships need to be nurtured. And whether we like it or not, we have to be open to meeting new people, even when that means occasionally stepping outside our comfort zones. The reality is that as we get older, our friendship circles change. People move, they grow, their priorities shift. Some friendships quietly fade, while others end because of unexpected circumstances. That makes staying connected and making new friends even more important. Make the First Move Today, we have more ways than ever to connect with the people we care about. We can call, text, email, FaceTime, or send a quick message on social media. Technology has made staying in touch easier, but it hasn’t made friendship effortless. If you’re feeling lonely, sad, or frustrated, or if you simply have great news you’re dying to share, reach out to friends. Stop waiting for the other person to call first. Remember, you’re both adults. Life gets busy. Chances are, they may have been thinking about you too and feeling guilty or embarrassed that so much time has passed. One of the wonderful things about a great friendship is that sometimes you can pick up right where you left off, as if no time has passed at all. While technology can help us stay connected and reconnect with old friends, it can never replace genuine connection or shared experiences. Friendship isn’t defined solely by how often we see someone or how many years we’ve known them. It’s defined by the ways we continue to show up for one another. These days, I’m much more selective about how I spend my time and, more importantly, who I spend it with. I’ve learned that true friendships are a gift. They create a safe place where we can take off our masks, admit when we’re struggling, laugh at ourselves, and occasionally say the things we wouldn’t dare say to anyone else. And yes, good friends can sometimes provide something that feels a little like free therapy. I am incredibly grateful for the wonderful friendships I’ve made along the way and those friends I now call family. We may not be connected by DNA, but when it comes right down to it, I know when I need encouragement, a helping hand, or a good long cry, I can count on them. Never underestimate the role friendship can play in creating a happier life. The family you choose can sometimes become every bit as important as the family you were given. Remember, don’t always wait for someone else to call, text, or extend an invitation. Friendship requires effort from both sides, but somebody has to go first. Be willing to be vulnerable. You can’t build a deep friendship if you never let someone see the real you. Trust takes time, but it also requires taking a chance. Lastly, make room for new people. Your friendship circle is never officially closed. Some of the most important people in your life may still be strangers today.
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For much of my life, I believed I stayed busy because I was ambitious. I worked hard, filled my calendar with social activities, and rarely allowed myself to slow down. Being productive made me feel capable and successful. Being around other people kept me entertained and connected.
After years of talk therapy, I discovered that my A type personality was a coping mechanism to avoid feeling hurt, angry, and resentment towards my parents. I grew up in a disfunctional home with my three siblings, an alcoholic father, and an emotionally distant mother. Like many children, I learned to adapt to my surroundings long before I had the words to explain my thoughts and feelings. As children, we depend on our parents and caregivers for physical and emotional safety. When the adults in our lives do not provide that safety consistently, we often find our own ways of coping. Some of us become quiet and invisible. Others become caretakers, people pleasers, fiercely independent, or exceptionally successful. Work gave me a purpose and a place to direct my energy. It also made me feel seen and heard. Accomplishments gave me validation. And a crowded calendar left little room for uncomfortable memories, anger, or sadness to surface. If I kept moving, I didn’t have to feel. At the time, I wasn’t consciously trying to ignore my childhood memories. I wasn’t waking up and thinking, “I’ll bury my feelings beneath work today.” For years, I lived life on autopilot and the only time I seemed able to cry was while watching a sad movie. My parents had taught me that crying was a sign of weakness and they would not tolerate it in their home. Thank goodness for the Hallmark Channel and movies like Terms of Endearment, Sophie’s Choice, and Love Story. I could immerse myself completely in someone else’s loss, heartbreak, or loneliness. Suddenly, the tears would come, and the release felt both overwhelming and comforting. Those movies gave me permission to express emotions I had learned to suppress. I could cry for the characters on the screen without having to acknowledge that some of those tears belonged to me. Looking back, I wonder if those tears were carrying more than one story. When the credits rolled, I could dry my eyes in the dark and return to being capable, productive, and in control. Emotional avoidance is a common response to painful or traumatic experiences. We may avoid certain memories, conversations, places, people, or feelings because they make us feel vulnerable or overwhelmed. Neuroscience helps explain why emotional avoidance can be so difficult to change. Each time we escape an uncomfortable memory or feeling, the immediate sense of relief teaches the brain that avoidance keeps us safe. Although this may help us cope in the moment, it can also keep old memories and emotions connected to a sense of danger. Trauma-informed therapies can help us gradually process those experiences in a safe, supported way—teaching the brain that remembering the past is not the same as reliving it. These behaviors are not necessarily bad or signs of weakness. They may be survival strategies we developed when we didn’t have the support, language, or emotional safety to process what happened. The problem is that a coping mechanism that once protected us can eventually prevent us from healing. Avoidance provides relief in the moment, but the feelings underneath it usually don’t disappear. They wait dormant and sometimes show up as anxiety, anger, exhaustion, perfectionism, physical tension, or tears during a movie. Letting go of avoidance does not mean forcing ourselves to relive every painful experience in our life. Healing is not about ripping open old wounds just to prove that we are strong. Healing means learning at our own pace to experience difficult emotions without being consumed by them. It can happen through therapy, or through writing, mindfulness, trusted friendships, creative expression, or simply allowing ourselves to sit quietly and notice what we feel. Ask yourself: What are you afraid will happen if you slow down? What feelings surface when you are no longer distracted? What did staying busy protect you from? What do you need now that you didn’t receive then? I’m beginning to understand that my productivity wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. For many years, it was a valuable coping mechanism that helped me build a successful life while keeping my pain safely tucked away. But emotions cannot be ignored forever. Today, I can appreciate the determined, hardworking woman I became while also having compassion for the child who learned that staying busy felt safer than feeling sad. Healing begins when we stop judging the ways we survived and start listening to the feelings we once had to avoid. Sometimes letting go means releasing the belief that we must remain constantly busy to be safe, valuable, or worthy. And sometimes living means finally giving ourselves permission to cry—not only for the characters on the screen, but for the younger versions of ourselves who had to become strong far too soon. I recently turned 67, and like many people, I began taking inventory of my life and reflecting on the choices I have made.
According to research, many people start to examine their lives more deeply in their late 40s and early 50s. Some may even experience what is commonly called a midlife crisis. For instance, a person suddenly buys an expensive sports car, dramatically changes their appearance, or leaves a stable career or relationship in search of something more exciting. Some midlife “crises” are not always obvious. For example, someone may begin feeling restless in a job that once felt fulfilling. They might question choices they made when they were younger or suddenly feel drawn to start a business, move overseas, or finally write the book they have carried inside them for years. It is only natural to reflect on our lives as we age, recognize what matters most, and think more intentionally about how we want to spend the years ahead. The key is to avoid making impulsive decisions simply to escape dissatisfaction. Instead, ask yourself the following question: “What is this feeling trying to teach me, and what positive change can I make?” This reflection often becomes even more meaningful the closer we get to retirement, experience the loss of a loved one, or simply recognize how quickly time passes. The moments can cause us to pause and help us take inventory of our lives. Psychologists sometimes call this a “life review.” It can help us understand where we have been, appreciate how much we have overcome, and find meaning in our experiences. Looking back can also be painful, especially, if we focus on missed opportunities, relationships that didn’t last, careers we didn’t pursue, places we never visited, or dreams that never came true. Before long, reflection can turn into regret. There is nothing wrong with wondering how life might have been different. Most of us have a few “what ifs” tucked away somewhere. What if I had taken that job? What if I had ended—or saved—that relationship? What if I had traveled more, worried less, or believed in myself sooner? We cannot prevent those questions from occasionally entering our minds. But we can decide how long we allow them to stay. Dwelling on what didn’t happen keeps us emotionally attached to a life that never existed. We can learn from the past, but we cannot return to it and rewrite the story. We can, however, begin writing a new chapter. Give yourself credit for how far you’ve come rather than what you missed. Remember everything you survived, learned, created, and contributed. Think about the courage it took to navigate unexpected changes. Remember the people you helped, the love you gave, and the times you kept moving forward when giving up might have been easier. Your life does not have to look the way you once imagined to be meaningful. Sometimes the detours teach us more than the destination ever could. Try making a list of the things you are proud of—not only major accomplishments, but also acts of kindness, difficult decisions, personal growth, and moments when you stood up for yourself or someone else. You may discover that you accomplished far more than you realized. Accept What You Cannot Change Acceptance does not mean pretending that something didn’t hurt or that you have no regrets. It means acknowledging what happened without allowing it to control what happens next. You might tell yourself: “I wish that had turned out differently, but I cannot change it.” “I made the best decision I could with what I understood at the time.” “I can carry the lesson forward without carrying the regret.” Self-compassion is important. We often judge our younger selves using the wisdom we have today. But the person you were then did not know everything you know now. Forgive that version of yourself for being human. Focus on what Is still possible. Instead of asking, “Why didn’t I do that?” try asking, “What can I do now?” Perhaps you never wrote the book, took the art class, started a podcast, learned to dance, traveled somewhere new, or told someone how much they meant to you. Maybe you cannot pursue a dream in exactly the way you once imagined. That does not mean you have to abandon it. You may simply need to reshape it to fit the person you are and the life you have today. A dream does not have to be enormous to be meaningful. It could be: ● Learning a new skill ● Making a new friend ● Starting a creative project ● Volunteering for a cause you care about ● Improving a relationship ● Taking a day trip somewhere you have never been ● Sharing your experience to help someone else ● Creating more peace, connection, or joy in your daily life Possibility begins when we stop treating age as an expiration date. Create something to look forward to, such as: a class, lunch with a friend, weekend getaway, creative project, or personal goal. It can shift our attention from what is behind us to what lies ahead. Choose one realistic thing that excites you and take the smallest possible step toward it. If you want to write, begin with one page. If you want to travel, research one destination. If you want more friends, join one group or invite one person for coffee. If you want to pursue a long-forgotten dream, spend fifteen minutes imagining what a new version of that dream might look like. You do not need to see the entire path. You only need enough courage to take the next step. We Are Never Too Old to Make New Dreams Dreaming is not reserved for the young. Our dreams can change as we grow, age, and need to make choices. . When we are younger, our dreams may revolve around achievement, recognition, careers, or building a family. Later in life, we may dream about peace, purpose, creativity, friendship, service, adventure, or living more authentically. These dreams are not smaller. They are often more honest because they come from a deeper understanding of who we are and what truly matters. I became a first-time published author at 66. That experience reminded me that dreams do not expire simply because we reach a certain age. Sometimes they have been waiting patiently for us to become the person ready to pursue them. Your past deserves to be acknowledged, but it does not deserve control of your future. I encourage you to look back with compassion. Appreciate the lessons. Celebrate how far you have come. Then turn your attention toward the life that is still waiting to be lived. You are never too old to imagine something new, take a different path, or dream another dream. The next chapter may not look like the one you once planned. It might be even better. |
Photos from cambodia4kidsorg, wuestenigel, Ben Taylor55
