I Refuse to Write a Plan for Decline

I will plan for living.

Sep 03, 2025

A friend of mine works as an advocate for older adults. She teaches workshops on dementia and end-of-life planning, and she recently wrote a post about how many people my age are living alone with no plan for what happens when life takes a turn.

That post stirred a whole conversation: What are your plans? Who’s going to take care of you? Do you have your paperwork lined up?

And let me tell you something: I don’t want a plan for decline. I don’t even want to give that thought a minute of oxygen. The minute someone starts telling me I should—get your power of attorney, get your will, get your ducks in a row—I feel like they’re already lowering me into the coffin.

Here’s What I Am Doing

I’m working my ass off to put money aside so my daughter Shannon won’t have to bear the cost of my final expenses. That matters to me. I’m taking responsibility for what I can take responsibility for.

Do I think I’m going to end up in a nursing home? No. I don’t believe that’s in my future. I don’t even carry that vision.

Do I ignore risk? No. I’ve made choices to lower it. I don’t drive a car anymore, which means my chances of an accident drop way down. In my apartment, I’ve got handles in the bathroom to steady myself. I do daily exercises to keep my balance strong. I’m thoughtful about how I move through my space.

That’s not denial. That’s sovereignty.

Why Should Turning Seventy Change Anything?

Here’s the thing that gets me: the number 70. Why should that number suddenly mean decline? Why should it mean I have to start drafting worst-case scenarios?

Why can’t it mean strength? Or freedom? Or a wide-open bench facing the Blue Ridge Mountains, where I sit and breathe and know I’m not done yet?

I don’t feel like turning 70 means I have to crumble. And that alone should be enough.

The Script I Refuse

The culture around aging wants us to bow our heads and prepare for collapse. To shrink our lives down into “plans” and “arrangements” and “precautions.”

But here’s what I know: when you live with that story in your head, you’re already rehearsing your own disappearance.

I refuse. I will not plan for decline. I will plan for living.

I will plan for walks. For dumbbells in my hands. For balance exercises that make me steady. For meditation that brings me into alignment. For art and words that light me up.

I will plan for joy.

The Invitation

You don’t have to swallow the script that tells you your age is a countdown. You get to write your own.

So here’s the question I’ll leave you with:

👉 Instead of planning for decline, how will you plan for more life in your next chapter?

✨ PS: If you’re ready to start planning for living instead of decline, join me and my paid subscribers this Sunday as we begin walking through my REFOUNDATION workbook together. One module at a time, one week at a time, we’re going to rebuild the life that can hold us now. If you don’t have your copy yet, grab it here for $5.99 - REFOUNDATION

Let’s begin.