This past summer I watched a group of people floating down the river in inner tubes.
3 years ago, I would have looked at them and thought, “Oh, that looks like fun!”
This time?
Not a flicker of interest.
And that caught me by surprise.
I used to love things like that. I used to love spontaneous outings, wandering around historic battlefields, organizing people, going places, doing things.
Now? I’d just as soon stay home and soak in my bathtub.
Good Lord. What happened to me?
For a moment, I actually felt sad.
Not because I couldn’t float down the river.
Because I no longer wanted to.
I realized I was missing a woman I used to be.
And I hadn’t even noticed she’d left.
That’s a peculiar kind of grief, isn’t it?
We spend decades becoming who we are, and then one morning we discover we’re somebody else.
I don’t particularly care about lunch with the girls anymore.
I don’t care what anybody else has, where they’re going, or what they’re doing.
And after a lifetime of leaving the door open for another romantic relationship, I’ve discovered I don’t even want that anymore.
Well, hell.
Was I becoming a boring old woman?
Or was something else happening?
Because here’s what I noticed.
While I was busy losing interest in all those things, I was developing an extraordinary interest in something I’d spent decades overlooking.
Myself.
What do I actually enjoy?
What do I want to do with my time?
What makes me curious?
And here’s the big one.
How many of those things I used to enjoy were things I genuinely wanted, and how many were simply part of the life I’d grown accustomed to living?
That’s a question worth asking.
Take something as ridiculous as folding towels.
For 60-something years, I folded towels a particular way and stacked them neatly in the linen closet.
Why?
Because that’s how they were supposed to be folded.
Who made that rule?
Beats the hell out of me.
But somewhere along the way, I stopped caring.
And you know what?
The world continued turning.
Now I’m beginning to suspect that some of the things I’ve stopped wanting weren’t losses at all.
They were simply things I no longer needed to carry.
And in the space they’ve left behind, something rather wonderful is happening.
I’m remembering dreams I had before life got so busy.
Before marriages and children and careers and everybody else’s expectations occupied so much of my attention.
Dreams I didn’t necessarily abandon.
I just stopped listening to them.
And now, at 71, I’m curious about them again.
Not because I want to become the woman I was at 30.
Good heavens, I’ve already been her.
I want to find out what the woman I am today might enjoy that I haven’t even imagined yet.
So I’ve decided I’m not going to worry about losing interest in things I used to love.
I’m going to pay attention to what interests me now.
And I’m certainly not going to drag my former self around like a suitcase simply because she and I have a long history together.
She had her turn.
And she brought me this far.
But I believe there’s another woman waiting to introduce herself.
And I’ll be damned if I’m going to miss meeting her because I’m too busy mourning the one who left.
What about you? Have you stopped wanting something you once thought you’d always love?
I’d genuinely love to hear about it.
Because I suspect there are a whole lot of us discovering that growing older isn’t necessarily about losing ourselves.
Sometimes it’s about finally meeting ourselves.
And once we begin discovering who we are now, a whole new question opens up.
What do we want to do with the rest of our lives?
That’s the conversation we’re having in Breakthrough, and I’d love for you to join us..
Every Tuesday evening at 7 ET, we gather live to challenge the conditioning we’ve carried for decades, rediscover what we genuinely want, and explore what’s still possible.
And when you become a paid subscriber, I’ll also give you a complimentary copy of my Breakthrough guide, created to help you take those discoveries beyond our Tuesday conversations and into your own life.
Come join us. The woman you’re becoming deserves your attention.