Prefer to watch instead of read? You can watch this reflection as a video at the bottom of the page.
Lately, I’ve been thinking more about age. Mostly because every once in a while, I say mine out loud and still feel slightly surprised by it.
Sixty-four. Cue the Beatles song.
Even typing that feels strange.
Not because I’m ashamed of it. I’m not. But I do notice there’s still some tension there.
People often tell me I don’t look 64. And if I’m being honest, part of me likes hearing that more than I probably should.
I stay active. I take care of myself physically and mentally. Even after retiring from my corporate career, life has not exactly slowed down. I went back to school, completed my training as a Certified Recovery Support Specialist, stepped into new work, and continue building a life that feels meaningful to me.
Part of that is probably just who I am. I’ve always been driven in certain ways. But lately I’ve also wondered whether some of that drive comes from somewhere deeper.
Am I simply engaged with life, or am I still trying to stay ahead of something I do not fully want to face?
I’m not entirely sure.
And maybe part of getting older is becoming more honest about how many things we are never fully sure about.
Internally, I do not experience myself as “old.” At least not in the way I imagined older people when I was younger.
Which is funny, because I remember my dad at this age seeming much older than I feel now. Then again, my dad lived to just a few months shy of 100.
My mom died at 67.
So even though there’s some tension for me now in being 64, there’s also an awareness that life does not unfold in predictable ways.
Maybe that’s part of why I still feel such a strong desire to stay engaged with life instead of quietly retreating from it. Still learning, still growing, still contributing.
At the same time, I notice how quickly the mind can turn age into identity.
Even writing this reflection creates a little tension in me because part of me worries someone reading it will immediately picture me as just an old guy before they know anything else about me.
And honestly, seeing that reaction arise in me feels important too.
Because maybe the uncomfortable part is not aging itself. Maybe it’s realizing how much of my life has been spent trying to manage how I’m perceived.
I wrote recently about a similar tension in Who Am I Without the Role?, and this feels connected to that same deeper question of identity.
I used to think getting older would make me feel more certain about life.
Strangely, the opposite seems to be happening.
But maybe there’s something freeing about that too. Maybe there’s relief in no longer needing such firm answers about who I’m supposed to be.
