MIND MATTERS

I have overthinking down to an art form. Years of practice have cemented this habit in my mind, and now that I have officially reached 60—those golden years, whether tarnished, plated, or real—they have arrived, and they aren’t going anywhere. But what does it all mean? Well, as a newly retired ‘pensioner’, I find myself in a bit of a tailspin. I am no longer young, but not entirely old either, and depending on the weather, I can feel both marginally youthful and entirely ancient within the span of the same week.

Don’t get me wrong; I know not everyone gets this privilege. Yet somehow, I have not quite figured out who ‘Nariman Pensioner-Parker’ is. I swear I can still see that naughty glint in my eye, hear my rambunctious laugh, and feel the back-slapping glee I find in the smallest pleasures. However, just beneath the surface lie the fears associated with ageing: health concerns, the accelerating passage of time towards the finish line, and the fear of being completely invisible and never feeling desirable or inspired again.

These thoughts play on a loop—not because I am hankering after my youth or carefree days, but because I am confused about what growing older looks like for me and whether I will ever stop feeling at odds with time.

So, how do I redefine what ageing could mean in a way that feels both empowering and motivational? Perhaps being less rational and more emotional and spiritual about this chapter is the answer.

Like most people, there is a reel playing inside my head every day: scenes from yesterday, conversations I wish had gone differently, memories I revisit, imagined futures, old fears, new dreams, moments of joy I wish I could replay, and moments of pain I wish I could edit out. My mind is constantly creating, remembering, interpreting, and narrating. Somewhere within those endless reels is a voice speaking directly to me.

The question is: What is that voice saying? Is she an understanding friend or a harsh critic? For so many of us, our inner dialogue is far less kind than the way we speak to the people we love. Yet when it comes to ourselves, we so easily become our own worst enemies.

Imagine what could change if I spoke to myself with the same compassion I offer others. So, let’s try listening to my fears with gentleness, reminding myself of the strength and courage it took to get here. It is this same mindset that will help me thrive through the challenges and blessings of growing older.

Learning to distinguish between reality and the stories I tell myself about my current situation is a powerful form of freedom.

Don’t let one point of view become the whole story. Every great story contains difficult scenes. The path becomes unclear and unstable, and there are moments when I have no idea what will come next.

A meaningful life isn’t one without difficulties. It is one in which I learn how to move through them. So, instead of always asking, “Why NOW when there is still so much I want to do?” perhaps I should ask, “How do I want to show up in this stage of my life?”

Maybe it is time to become the hero of my own story! I can do it scared and still take the next step. Maybe I can finally start to ask for advice and help about unexplainable body aches, medications, and health/life hacks for the fast ageing, haha… So many maybes…

I’m praying on these ‘maybes’ because I have no clue. But I’ve decided that I am definitely silencing my bitchy inner voice that keeps spouting things like wrinkles and grey hairs and wobbly bits, yuck, and firming up my sense of humour because there is no way we are getting out of this alive. I’m going to enjoy my extra padding, let the stubborn greys fly, and always carry tweezers with me for those dodgy chin hairs, lol.

I pledge to finally say no to things I am no longer interested in doing, to forgive myself for my shortcomings and my demons, and to not give up on myself or others.

Perhaps real self-belief isn’t the certainty that everything will work out exactly as we want it to; perhaps it is accepting things as they are and finding gratitude within them. If we spend our days focusing on everything that is wrong, everything we lack, everything we fear, and every way we believe we fall short, it becomes easy to forget how beautiful life is at any age. 

I can look at my older self and see someone touched by time, or I can choose to see someone grounded in the truth of who I have worked so hard to become. 

And that, my friends, should take my breath away.