I love being sixty-something, and wouldn’t turn back the clock for all the world. For one thing, as I told an online friend recently, for the first time ever I just don’t care what others think of me. “Well,” she replied “what are all these outrageous and inappropriate things you do?” I laughed. “Who said anything about outrageous and inappropriate?” I asked. “That’s what young people do to feel brave and confident. What I meant was that I find joy in the quieter things in life, and I don’t care if others call me boring”

Outrageous and inappropriate indeed! Bring on the quiet stuff. I recently read an article in which some minor ageing celebrity gushed on about staying young, listing all the youthful, exciting things she had done as well as counting off the antics of other celebrities who have “kept their youth”. I shuddered. Over my dead body. I have no interest in wild partying, and even less in sex with young stags, and I won’t be pressured into holding on to such activities. And I don’t care if, by living a quieter life, I’m deemed “invisible” by society.

Back when I was young, I did care. I’m the introverted type. Much of my joy in life comes from invisible, internal sources, and I cared desperately that I wasn’t as outgoing as others. My self-esteem suffered as I felt the pressure to earn appreciation. I had to be pretty, sexy, fun-loving, outrageous, the life and soul of the party. I also had to be successful, a high energy achiever, and of course, talkative. But I wasn’t.

The result? Lack of confidence for most of my youth. OK, coming of age in the sixties was a lot of fun; I travelled, I smoked weed, I had adventures, I broke all the rules. But I was never truly happy.

Growing older for me means letting go of those fake youthful values. I’m moving into an exciting era of true independence, one that comes from within. I know my worth, and no longer blindly accept the standards youth dictates for “success”. I’ve found my own principles and am now strong enough to live by those. I have the treasure of experience to guide me; I’ve learnt from life, and especially from my mistakes. I’ve fumbled my way to the wisdom that the source of self-confidence is, quite literally, within.

Growing old means cultivating those internal sources of joy. For me, this lies in reading, writing, nature, my grandchild (and those to come!), meditation, spirituality. For others this might be walking, swimming, gardening, knitting or painting.

I appreciate life in a way I never did before, and have the inner strength to deal with trials calmly and stoically, like standing by my husband in his horrible illness. Yes, life is full of challenges. But I have never felt so fulfilled, with a contentment that grows almost from day to day. Others might find me invisible, and my life boring; but you know what? I don’t care. The adventure just got real!