Author: HairWeavings Editorial Team

My 23-year-old grandson and I were recently chatting about the stages of life – one of many much-loved conversations where age meets youthful curiosity. When he asked me at what point someone officially becomes “old,” I paused. Then I offered him this:

“You become old the moment you believe the most important parts of your life are behind you. When you begin to feel irrelevant or as if you have nothing more to offer – that is when old age truly begins.”

“Old” Isn’t a Number

We all know this, don’t we? You might meet an 80-year-old who’s full of life and spark – and a 55-year-old who seems to have given up on joy. Aging isn’t about years; it’s about energy, spirit, and belief.

A Pew Research study found that younger adults think 70 is old. But ask people between 65 and 74? Only 21% of them say they feel old. Among those over 75, it’s just 35%. As someone on the doorstep of 77, I don’t feel old. What about you? Taking it a step further, 60% of centenarians say they don’t feel old, but at least 20 years younger than their age. Can you see the power of a positive mindset?

We’re living longer and, with attention, healthier. Don’t we want to relish all our years by living with community, meaning, and an optimistic outlook?

The Trap of Giving Up

I’ve seen some women in their 50s and 60s start to “act old.” They slide into a vicious cycle: feeling hopeless, neglecting their health, then facing more challenges, which only deepens the sense of defeat. But it’s not inevitable. Some of this may relate to the ageist stereotypes that surround us. Some may relate to a life circumstance where positive support is limited.

Yes, health challenges may come, I know personally. But I’ve seen women face them with resilience, hope, and heart – refusing to let their circumstances suppress their love of life. Those are the women I admire deeply. They remind me that how we respond to life is often more powerful than what life hands us. So, to a degree, conditions don’t need to define us; yet, conditions often change us in some way. Still, we have a choice regarding how we respond in terms of mindset.

My recent example is recovering from shoulder replacement. I had a bit of a surprise – I found that walking two miles was about all I could do once I had the energy to give it a try. I am a hiker with an 8-12-mile range, so I felt a bit dismayed. For heaven’s sake, they operated on my shoulder, not my legs! My point is that I am now up to almost 8 miles, and I plan to keep going until I am back on my game – and that is not letting the challenge convince me I am old and not able.

The Stories We Tell Ourselves

In my coaching practice with women over 60, I’ve uncovered a puzzling-to-me mindset: some don’t see the point in striving for vitality or fulfillment as an older woman. Why “strive” for anything, after spending years stiving to be a good daughter, student, employee, parent? If things are “fine,” why stir the pot? Life is good just as it is. Might this be a way of saying that the important part of life is over, or is it something different? I’d love to hear your perspective.

I believe this is a very personal issue; it also merits serious consideration before deciding what approach to the years ahead is right for you. You may have 20-30 years of life ahead. What do you truly want for yourself in those years? Don’t they deserve the same intentionality as the decades that came before?

For some of us, meaning is through serving and growing. For others, it may be grandparenting, traveling, or fitness. For some, it is just to “be.” One woman told me her best days were spent under a cozy afghan, watching the world pass by. And if that genuinely fills her with peace and contentment, then wonderful. But for me, that feels like surrendering to the idea that life no longer has something meaningful to offer – or to ask of me. Then, I know that is my mindset and not hers.

I believe we each hold within us a unique spark that still wants to shine. Even now. Especially now.

Age with Awareness

There can be a difference between the life we’re told we should enjoy – and the life that lights us up. We see images of women playing with grandchildren, traveling, golfing, or living in a retirement community. What if these activities are not for you? Or maybe they are. The real question is: What feels alive for you?

We’ve earned the right to choose not just how we age – but who we become in the process. When we follow what genuinely energizes us, we shift the story – not just for ourselves, but for the generations watching us redefine what’s possible.

What if aging was less about doing what’s expected, and more about doing what stirs your heart?

What if relevance wasn’t defined by productivity, but by authenticity as we age?

I’ve had many cycles of life – and I know more are coming. What wants to be expressed through me today is entirely different from 10 years ago. I suspect what would inspire me in 10 more years will be different yet again. That’s the beauty of aging with awareness. We don’t shrink – we expand. We evolve.

I’d Love to Hear Your Thoughts:

What inspires you now? Do you feel old? Say more about that, you may LOVE it! And what if “old” is just a story we get to rewrite – what is yours?

Are you having trouble keeping hope alive right now?

Especially as we all witness or live through the gut-wrenching effects of wildfires, hurricanes, earthquakes, war and genocide, and political turmoil around the world.

I’ve been thinking about hope a lot lately as I face the unspeakable heartbreak of slowly losing both my parents to the disease of dementia and as I connect with people navigating all kinds of significant transitions.

Not the casual kind of hope we toss around like confetti – “I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow” or “I hope the traffic isn’t bad.”

I’m thinking about the deep, soul-sustaining hope that carries us through life’s darkest valleys and helps us believe in dawns we can’t yet see.

Whether caring for needy loved ones, adjusting to an empty nest, reimagining our purpose, facing health challenges, or simply questioning what’s next, keeping hope alive becomes crucial in these threshold moments of our lives.

The Anatomy of Hope

In its truest form, hope isn’t just optimistic thinking or positive affirmations. It’s more like an anchor, steadying us when life’s waters get choppy.

Hope is the quiet voice that whispers “not yet” when our weary hearts want to give up. It’s the gentle hand at our back, encouraging us to take one more step even when we can’t see where the path leads.

I’m learning that hope isn’t something we have or don’t have. It’s a practice we can cultivate, like tending a garden. And just as a garden needs different care in different seasons, our hope requires nurturing in unique ways during life’s most challenging times.

I believe hope has three essential elements: desire for something better, belief in possibility, and the courage to take action.

It’s not just wishing things were different; wishing is passive. Hope allows us to envision a better future while staying grounded in the present moment and taking action to pursue that future.

When Life Feels Heavy, How Do We Keep Hope Alive?

Here are some practices I’ve found helpful, and I invite you to explore them:

Return to Stillness

I have an early morning ritual of watching birds in my garden sanctuary. Like me, you can create small pockets of quiet in your day. Hope often speaks in whispers, and we need stillness to hear it.

Connect with Something Larger Than Yourself

Whether through prayer, meditation, time in nature, or service to others, connecting with something bigger than our immediate circumstances can reignite our sense of possibility. A long, silent walk in the wilderness does this for me. Tuning into the intricate web of life surrounding me reconnects me to something ancient and eternal, both within and without.

Remember Your Story

You’ve weathered storms before. Take time to reflect on past challenges you’ve overcome. Let those memories remind you of your resilience. One of my favorite quotes by Eleanor Roosevelt illustrates this: “You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, ‘I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’”

Practice Presence and Notice Joy

Hope isn’t just about the future – it’s also about fully inhabiting this moment. Notice the small, joyful gifts each day brings. Some of my favorites are hearing birdsong in the early morning, a mug of hot tea, laughing with my husband, connecting with a friend, a good book, my cozy bed, popcorn, and dark chocolate. (I confess those last four have been known to happen simultaneously.)

Surround Yourself with Hope Carriers

Some people naturally strengthen our hope, while others deplete it. Choose your company wisely, especially during challenging times. I am grateful to have a small circle of women friends who always hold out hope for me, even when circumstances seem impossible to bear.

Chan Hellman, PhD, professor, author, and director of The Hope Research Center at the University of Oklahoma, teaches that hope is a social gift – it doesn’t happen in isolation. Our connectedness with each other is the single best predictor of hope.

As Hellman states, “At the heart of change is our ability to understand the way things are right now in our lives, and that we can begin to imagine the way things could be. This is where hope is born.”

The Wisdom of Hard Times

Now that I’m in the second half of my life, I understand that life isn’t straightforward. I’ve learned that joy and sorrow often travel together and that some of my most profound growth has come through my most significant challenges.

This wisdom allows me to hold hope differently than I did in my younger years. I’ve learned to embrace a more nuanced hope that doesn’t deny difficulty but chooses to believe in possibility anyway. One that knows darkness and light are both part of the journey.

Sometimes, hope looks different than we expect. It might not be the bright, bubbly feeling we associate with optimism. Instead, it might be the quiet determination to put one foot in front of the other. It might be the courage to rest when we need to, trusting that rest itself is part of moving forward.

For some of us, hope intertwines with purpose. It beckons us toward new possibilities as we release old roles and expectations. It invites us to ask: What do I truly love? How can I make a difference? What wants to emerge through me in this chapter of life?

I’ve learned that hope isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about staying open to possibility, even amid uncertainty. It’s about trusting that our story isn’t over yet and that beautiful chapters are still waiting to be written.

Our hope matters – it spreads to everyone around us, like passing a flame from one candle to another. When everything seems dark, choosing hope is a bold move that shows real courage and love.

So today, I invite you to rekindle your hope. Not the superficial kind but the deep, anchoring hope that reminds us of who we are and what we’re capable of. Let it be your companion as you navigate this complex season of life.

Also read, The Joyful Living Toolkit: 10 Transformative Practices

Let’s Start a Conversation:

What’s one small practice that helps you maintain hope during challenging times? Can you recall a difficult period in your life where hope carried you through? Who are the “hope carriers” in your life? How do they help you maintain perspective during tough times?

Will we get to see more of Abby?

Will we get to see more of Abby?

Will we get to see more of Abby?