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I wasn’t going to write about turning 65. Everyone expects the ‘hello Medicare, goodbye relevance’ piece, and honestly? We’ve seen enough of those. But as I woke up on my birthday, I realized I didn’t want to let this milestone slip by with a polite nod or an AARP joke. I wanted to capture what it really feels like to turn 65—messy, contradictory, honest, sometimes funny, sometimes painful, but always real. This isn’t inspiration porn or a checklist of what you’re ‘supposed’ to do at 65. It’s how I’m actually navigating this chapter, contradictions and all.—Susan
The real, messy, complicated reality of this age—no bullshit.
Reinvention
We’re building new versions of ourselves, even when we have no idea what we’re doing.
- I’m creating something powerful at 65. In the morning, I’m “Yeah baby, let’s go!” By evening, I’m drowning in existential dread.
- I finally (almost) know what I want … then change my mind completely the next week.
- I’ve entered my IDGAF era. But I still care about how organized my pantry is.
- I’m reinventing myself fearlessly, and terrified I don’t have enough runway left to pull it off.
- I’ve always had a high-risk tolerance. It hasn’t gotten me into trouble yet.
- I’m becoming who I was meant to be, and yet mourning who I’ll never be.
- I lead with confidence … then second-guess every decision for hours.
- I’m living my “third third.” Whatever that means.
- I choose depth and breadth. Then panic I’m stretched too thin, but kind of like it.
- This is my gateway decade! Someone please show me where the gate is.
Relationships
Love, loss, boundaries, and the messy reality of human connection at 65.
- I engage fiercely without reservation. Then worry I’m “too much.”
- I’ve mastered saying no and finally don’t feel guilty, unless it’s to my dog.
- I choose my relationships carefully. And sometimes still choose wrong.
- I’m grateful for my husband of five decades, but the way he swallows coffee bugs the shit out of me.
- I’m a grandmother for the first time, and trying not to screw it up while being a self-aware MIL.
- I work with brilliant women my age, and yet we’re still invisible to half the room.
- I spot fair-weather friends quickly … but sometimes keep them anyway.
- I accept that relationships end, and still take it personally every time.
- I have hard conversations with grace. Then replay them obsessively at 3 a.m.
- I’m building a community with amazing women who sometimes exhaust me completely.
Reflection
The wisdom we’ve earned and the blind spots that still surprises us.
- I finally know myself. And sometimes wish I didn’t.
- I feel more purposeful than ever, but still question my life choices.
- I know aging is a privilege because it makes my opinions easier to swallow.
- Thank God I’m not becoming my mother in the ways I promised myself.
- My gut is smart as hell … when I actually listen instead of overthinking.
- I’m wearing 65 like a badge of honor—some days more convincingly than others.
- I have stories worth sharing. At least that’s what I tell myself.
- I know “difficult” means “has standards” and I’m okay with being difficult.
- I appreciate my body’s faithful service while cursing its betrayals.
- My new grandson fascinates me and reminds me how beautiful life is.
- Senior discounts feel like small reparations for decades of paying full price.
Rewiring
Changing our programming while fighting the old code that still runs.
- I speak my mind without apology and then wonder if I was too harsh.
- “No” is a complete sentence that I don’t feel compelled to explain anymore.
- I try to listen more now, but still interrupt. I’m a constant work in progress.
- I give better hugs, thanks to my daughter schooling me for 30 years.
- I choose authenticity over approval, but miss approval more than I’d like to admit.
- I’ve escaped the boxes women our age are told to stay in. And most days, I’m glad I did.
- I claim my earned luxuries and then judge myself for being indulgent.
- Rest is necessary, not lazy, and I’m a proud member of the napping club.
- Procrastination is optimism … or maybe it’s just procrastination.
- I’ve detached myself from material things. Except when I really want them.
- Curiosity is my luxury when anxiety isn’t drowning it out.
- Moving 33 times taught me to thrive on chaos.
Refusing
What we won’t tolerate anymore, even when old habits creep back.
- Diet culture is dead to me—until I step on the scale.
- I roll my eyes at “aging gracefully” while hoping I’m doing it right.
- I dismiss ageist assumptions while sometimes making them about myself.
- I won’t debate the willfully ignorant but still get sucked in sometimes.
- I leave boring events early—after suffering through too much small talk.
- I refuse to disappear … most of the time.
- I laugh at recycled trends while rocking the same side part I’ve had for 60 years.
- I advocate for myself at the doctor. And still leave feeling unheard.
Reclaiming
Taking back what’s ours, imperfectly and with occasional backsliding.
- I take up space unapologetically … but only when I get enough sleep.
- Comfort trumps fashion—except when I want to look hot.
- I’ve got good hair, so it’s staying long for now.
- I honor family meals and love setting a beautiful table.
- Every day is good enough to use the good china.
- I eat double dessert without guilt, and then feel guilty about not feeling guilty.
- I care more about the planet now, and wish I’d leaned in earlier.
- I dance in my kitchen … when no one’s home to judge my moves.
- I read heady stuff, and still lose my keys daily.
- I consume purposefully … except when I impulse buy stupid shit on Amazon.
- My interiors reflect childhood trauma, so I overcompensate with artfully designed spaces.
- I read late into the night without regrets … and pay for it the next morning.
- I remember what wanting feels like and act on it, despite the fear.
- I finally have photogenic confidence—six decades, veneers, and a brow lift later.
Your turn: What truths about your age would you add? The messy, complicated, real ones—not the Instagram version.
What I never expected was to be deeply in love at this age. I’d been married/divorced, then engaged in my 50s and lost him to cancer. At 62, I’d had enough of grieving and I sold my house, my car, put half my life in storage, took my kitty and moved to a new city where I knew no one and hadn’t seen my apartment until the day I moved in.
Shortly after moving, I went to an event solo and there I met the man I will spend the rest of my life with. It’s been 3 years now and at 65 (he’s 68) my life is exactly what I always dreamed of: city living, no car, walk everywhere, lots of culture, art, great restaurants, and more.
I learned how brave I am and now I’m even starting my 3.0 era in a new business venture – something I’ve always wanted to do.
To quote Anais Nin, “Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage.”
What a powerful story Randye. It’s everything we’re told doesn’t happen at this age: new love, bold moves, fresh beginnings, and yet here you are, living it. What strikes me is how much courage it takes to grieve, to let go, and then to risk starting over again. That’s the part no one talks about: reinvention isn’t just about what we gain, but about the strength it takes to walk through loss first. Your story embodies that Anaïs Nin line perfectly. Thank you for sharing. —susan
At 66….
I wish I had taken better care of my skin.
I’ve finally forgiven him for leaving me for a woman 20 years my junior.
I celebrate every clean mammography, doing something special for myself.
I don’t mind showing my stretch marks and c-section scars. This body created life 3 times.
I’m no longer embarassed to admit to needing 10 hours of sleep each night to be my best in the morning.
I am an introvert and pretended to be an extrovert for many years.
I am amazingly intuitive and very grateful for it. I didn’t used to pay it any attention.
There are only 2 people whose opinion of me matter – my grandchildren, ages 3 and 5.
It is not a waste of time to see and admire the stunning beauty of trees.
The full moon wakes me up. I didn’t use to notice the correlation.
And so many more. Loving this self examination.
Hi Pamela, This is beautiful – thank you for sharing your truths. The one about finally forgiving him hit hard. And celebrating clean mammograms? YES. Those victories deserve champagne, not just relief.
Trees – I love to look at trees. So much so that I took a tree drawing class last summer. It was harder than you might think! Maybe we’re not getting older, we’re just getting back to what we knew as kids.
Thank you for reading and for sharing your own wisdom. —susan
At 70 I find…
I am becoming one of those that I said I never would…”In my day, I remember when, kids these days just don’t know, why do they dress like that…etc”
I have more confidence now to say no or yes. But still feel a bit guilty if I disappoint by those answers.
I’m losing more friends than making new ones. And if I make new ones, they are usually the age of my grandchildren through a work situation.
I can’t physically do what my heart and mind want me to. Driving at night, sleeping in, sleeping all night, volunteering for high risk things that I did in a heartbeat “back in the day”. Eating whenever and whatever, drinking with the same restrictions if it’s water or alcohol or pop.
In my mind, I am still young enough. Reality says, not so much.
I can see the end of the tunnel and it’s coming much too fast.
I have been working for 50 years and I deserve respect. The 21 year old that is my manager is learning that. I’m feel like I’m being left behind in technology. I used to roll my eyes at my mother, now that shoe is on my foot. I am invited to weddings but not to the fun stuff beforehand. I am however, very happy to have made it this far. The road was not what I had hoped for. I was looking for a street paved with gold. I got potholes, gravel, and unexpected hairpin turns. I’m rolling on though!
Hi Shelly, Thanks for sharing…This is so real—and so powerful.The tech frustration? Yep, we’ve all been there. And the social sidelining? That stings more than people realize. But your voice and resilience sound strong. The road may not have been smooth, but you’re still rolling, and that’s something to be proud of. —susan
I felt all 65 of these statements. In little more than a month I’ll turn 70. and I am up for the challenge, as soon as my hip cooperates! There is a certain freedom in owning one’s age, stage and space.
I love this—and happy almost-70! Your line about “owning one’s age, stage, and space” is everything. That’s exactly the kind of unapologetic confidence we’re all about here.
Sending early birthday wishes to you! —susan
Sixty-five? I remember agonizing when I turned 50 and AARP sent me a membership package. It was the young-old phase. The next fifteen years were busy with career, children leaving. Sixty-five? Really free, retired, bought a home I loved, friends, travel, becoming a grandmother, having a wonderful life. This was the middle-old phase. Now at 78, soon to be 79 with 80 hovering ever so close, I am entering the old-elderly phase. My shelf life is shrinking. If I follow the women in my family I have 12 or so years left. Celebrities we grew up with are leaving at a fast rate. Kids are now fully in their middle age years. Grandchild is entering the teens. They really don’t have time for me anymore. I’m more of an obligation, maybe annoyance to one of them. Friends are few as they too are leaving. Sold my home and moved to be closer to the one who still lives in the states. Nice at first. Now I’m just here. Feeling invisible and irrelevant. Enjoy the next 10/15 years. They go so fast and here you are. My salvation is my wonderful dog. He’s a covid dog, first one in 40+ years. Trained him to be a certified therapy dog. He has a wonderful life…and I have a life.
Hi Karen, Thank you for this deeply moving reflection. You captured so many of the truths that often go unspoken…the phases within the phases, the shifting roles, the quiet ache of becoming invisible.
I’m struck by your honesty. It’s a reminder that even as our world seems to shrink, the interior life can still hold so much meaning. I have a loving canine companion, my little Frenchie, Pippin. She brings me so much comfort and joy. She was a COVID dog as well. Dogs can bring that sense of duty and purpose, while also providing companionship and loyalty.
I hear you. And I see you. And I’m so grateful you took the time to share your story here.—susan
Fantastic! Could have been called “65 Paradoxes about Turning 65.” Here’s another: “I finally know my stories are worth telling but some of them make me cringe.”
Stella, Oh, that’s GOOD. “65 Paradoxes” is perfect—because isn’t that what this whole decade is? One big beautiful contradiction. And yes to the cringe-worthy stories! The ones that make us squirm are usually the ones people need to hear most. We’ve got the wisdom to know which stories matter and the scars to tell them right. Thanks for adding to the list. I may reframe my truths to paradoxes for a social video, thanks for inspiration! —susan
Yep, turned 65 this year and got all the pre birthday fanfare from Medicare! It turned out to be a low key birthday, but that’s how I wanted it. I said. I wasn’t sure if the rest of the family got all the hats and horns during the birthday pre-amble! But I must say, this article tickled me and I really laughed out loud quite a few times. It was spot on!! I think in October this will be my 6th move in 11 years. I don’t plan on it being my last either! I’m a new subscriber and am enjoying all I’ve read so far~ Here’s to another year to see what is in store for this 65 year old! All my best, Joan
Hi Joan, How nice to meet you here in our community. My mother’s name was Joan and my sister’s name is Joan – so I have a soft spot for anyone named Joan. I am glad that I could give you a chuckle. It is all so true—one minute I am on fire, and the next, I’m looking for my glasses (always on my head) or questioning my life choices. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I had a low key birthday too last week. Last year, I threw myself a big party, and this year, I cherished a new grandson and another grandson on the way. So my kids and their partners visited, and we loved on the new precious baby. My daughter, who is 7 months pregnant, made me a most decadent chocolate cake. She is amazing in the kitchen and her desserts are always a treat. I appreciate your kind words. We are working hard to build something meaningful here. I appreciate you dropping in. Keep in touch and let me know what you are loving and what you want to hear more of. All the best, and cheers to 65! —susan
61 and can totally relate to these lists, feel I need to print them out and stick them on every mirror in the house!! Definitely the IDGAF!
Hi Dana, Thanks for doubling down on what I had to say. YES. and Yes. 65 was a bit hard to swallow for me… Woof. But here I am. Those truths? They actually keep me grounded. In self-awareness. In curiosity. And in knowing that I can still do everything and anything. I never want to take that for granted.
Thank you for preparing this list. I turned 60 recently and I have managed to overthink everything (even this comment!) for most of my life and I am learning (baby steps) how to turn it off. Thank you for this piece. Its a keeper!
I’m 62 and finally confident enough to leave family functions that create anxiety for me. And I do it unapologetically. I make no excuses to my partner about wanting to spend more time with my grands than I probably do with him. I work with 2 beautiful, brilliant women in their 40’s…and wish I still looked like that; I’m a work in progress. I have learned it’s perfectly fine to have an opinion that’s different from others…that’s their problem not mine if they disagree. I struggle with the idea of someday leaving my loved ones and worry if they will be okay without me. My worries have all become age related and I’m working on my coping skills for that. I’ve learned, best of all, to embrace every single day and not waste it on things I don’t enjoy!
Thank you Sherri.I love everything you said. Your honesty is beautiful—and I see so much of myself in your words.
Leaving family functions that drain you, unapologetically? That’s a milestone in itself. Choosing time with your grands, working alongside brilliant women, holding space for the complicated mix of wishing we looked like we once did while honoring where we are now—it’s all so real.
And yes, the worries that creep in as we age, about leaving loved ones, about whether they’ll be okay—those are the quiet conversations we rarely say out loud, but we carry them, too.
You’re right: embracing every single day, refusing to waste it on what doesn’t bring joy, is the best wisdom we can claim. Thank you for reminding us.