Your mother and your grandmother never knew to ask this question.

We’re the first generation of women over 60 with permission to build a life that’s truly ours. The question isn’t what’s left of me? — it’s what now?

Trying to keep a stiff upper lip at age 60

So you turned 60 and your soul said, “Now what?”

I know that feeling too well. I share the dubious honor of being married three times. Ugh.
By the second year of my third marriage, his narcissism was on full display—neon lights and all.

For my 60th birthday, I went to Kroger, bought five pounds of crab legs, cooked them, and sat by the pool. He pouted because I didn’t cook for him.

(Never mind that two days earlier, for his 60th, I’d thrown an outstanding steak dinner with guests and all the trimmings. But I digress.)

That was my “Now what?” moment.

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What I thought would be a fun, settled life with husband number three turned out to be the experience that distilled my soul.

This man had me believing I was useless without him. Mercy.

In that quiet rebellion that happens before freedom, I learned to keep my thoughts crystal clear—and to myself—until I could bring the whole miserable thing to an end.

And that’s when the deeper truth started rising:

I had no idea who I was without the roles I played—wife, mom, sister, artist, caretaker.

The silence after 60 can be deafening.
Nobody warns you about that version of the midlife crisis—the one that doesn’t come with a sports car or a trip to Bali. It comes with stillness and a whisper:
“Is this it?”

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That whisper isn’t failure—it’s awakening.

It’s your soul stretching out after years of being folded up to fit inside everyone else’s expectations.

So I started dating myself. Literally.

Imagine a blind date where you sit across from someone new and start asking questions. Only this time, that someone was me.

I asked:

• What do you actually love?
  
  

• What do you miss?
  
  

• What makes you feel alive?
  
  

And I listened.
Those conversations became a lifeline back to myself.

My private journal—locked and hidden away from husband number three and his indoor hot-tub dreams—became my sanctuary. I poured everything into it: the anger, the fear, the curiosity, the hope.

And somewhere in those pages, the woman I thought I’d lost started to reappear.

If you’ve been craving a spark to reignite your next chapter, now’s the time to jump in. Join me as a paid subscriber and get the three-guidebook bundle for rejuvenation, reclamation, and self-discovery—plus full access to my daily emails and our weekly Zoom circles. It’s only $4.54 a month when you go annual. Come on in… your “I did it” era starts here.