We don’t outgrow new beginnings; we outgrow the excuses that keep us small. People often tell me how ‘brave’ I am for still saying yes to new adventures at 85. The truth is, I’ve simply had more years than most to see what fear does to a life, and I refuse to let it run mine.
We like to dress fear up in respectable clothing.
- I’m too old.
- I’ve invested too much time already.
- What will people think?
- I should be grateful for what I have.
- It’s too risky.
They sound sensible, don’t they? Polite. Reasonable. But underneath those tidy sentences are the same tight knot: fear of stepping out of the familiar and into the unknown.
The quiet danger of a life that no longer fits
Staying in a life that no longer fits you is perhaps the greatest risk of all. People worry about the risk of change, but rarely consider the risk of staying exactly where they are: in a job that saddens them, a role that shrinks them, or a routine that slowly turns the lights off inside.
We weren’t designed to stagnate; we were designed to grow, adapt and evolve, right up until the final curtain. That isn’t poetic language; it’s how human beings are wired. Curiosity, creativity and connection don’t retire. They may get quieter if you ignore them, but they never disappear.
People who began again
When people say, ‘It’s too late for me,’ I think of those who rewrote the script on what’s possible.
- Vera Wang didn’t start her now‑iconic bridal brand until she was in her 40s, proving ‘too late’ is often just someone else’s limit, not yours.
- Western‑wear legend Jack Weil, often described as the world’s oldest working CEO, ran his company until he was 107 years of age, showing that purpose and passion can outlive any retirement date.
- Carolyn Doelling began a successful modelling career in her 70s, bringing swagger and style to campaigns that once ignored women of my age.
None of them waited for permission. They didn’t ask the calendar if it was convenient. They chose to begin again, at a stage of life when many are told to quieten down and fade politely into the background.
What fear really steals from us
Fear tells us it is protecting us.
- Don’t rock the boat.
- Don’t risk embarrassment.
- Don’t make a fool of yourself at your age.
But fear is greedy. It doesn’t only protect you from pain; it quietly shields you from joy, growth and connection too. It keeps you in work that drains you, relationships that diminish you, and routines that numb you.
At 85, I’m no stranger to fear. I still feel it when I walk into a new room, say yes to a new opportunity, or see a photo of myself where every wrinkle is on full display.
The difference now is this: I’ve lived long enough to know that fear’s worst‑case scenarios rarely come true – but its quiet, daily theft of your life absolutely does.
Choosing the risk that expands you
As we step into a new year, the invitation isn’t to become reckless. It’s to become honest.
So, ask yourself:
- Which risk shrinks you – staying exactly as you are?
- Which risk expands you – taking one small step towards the life that fits you?
You don’t have to change your whole world overnight. You can:
- Enrol in the class you keep looking at.
- Send the email that might open a new door.
- Wear the outfit that feels more ‘you’ than ‘appropriate.
- Have the conversation you’ve been avoiding with yourself about what you really want to do next.
Change your story from ‘I’m too old’ to ‘I’m just getting interesting.’
You are not running out of worth just because the candles on your cake are increasing. In many ways, this is when things get rich: you know yourself better, you care less about meaningless opinions, and you’re finally ready to live on your own terms.
A life that is not a museum
I often say I’m stubborn enough to keep saying yes to life, even when my knees complain and the mirror shows my wrinkles in abundance. My body tells the truth of my years, but my spirit is gloriously unwilling to sit in a glass case and be admired from a distance.
Your life is not a museum. It is not a frozen exhibit labelled ‘This is who you are, and this is all you’ll ever be.’
Your life is a living, breathing work in progress. The paint is still wet. The story is still unfolding. And no matter what age you are, you are allowed >> more than allowed, invited >> to begin again.
So if you’re standing at the edge of a decision thinking, ‘Is it too late?’ – it isn’t. The only ‘too late’ is the day you decide you’re done growing.
But until then, the curtain is up, the stage is yours, and the next act is waiting.
