::: i’m 59 and i still don’t know what i want to be when i grow up

for the women whose lives blew up

“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”

Proverbs 3:5-6 (KJV)

I am sitting in my living room on the land my daddy and his daddy cleared decades ago. My calendar for next week is completely empty. Not “light.”

Empty.

At 59, I thought I’d have this figured out by now. I thought the question “What do you want to be when you grow up?” would have been settled somewhere around 1985.

It wasn’t.

And most days, I still don’t know how to answer it.

::: the summer everything changed

The school year from hell ended in 2021. We’d lost my daddy during the first month of that school year. My momma’s health was failing, and we had spent more time in hospitals and doctor’s offices than I had spent in my classroom. We were deep in a pandemic that weighed heavily on me.

Then, because apparently the universe thought I needed one more thing, I had a freak accident and missed the last few days of school.

I woke up on the first day of summer break, and the first thing I heard was God asking me how it felt to be retired.

I went into full panic mode. I was 54. Way too young for this. I told Him so.

He just repeated the question.

So I stepped out on faith, filled out the paperwork, and faxed it in within the hour.

And then I waited for Him to tell me what was next.

I thought He’d immediately say I was supposed to create a website or work at a bank or win the lottery or marry Prince Charming or SOMETHING.

When I asked what came next, He was silent. Not because He’d abandoned me or stopped talking to me altogether. Looking back now, I understand He saw what was coming and knew I had to make it out the other side before I’d be strong enough to tackle what He had planned.

But in that moment? All I heard was crickets about my next steps.

It took me months to feel human again after the accident. I finally had one day without pain. One random weekday where I woke up and thought, “Hey, I actually feel okay.”

By that Friday, I had COVID. And not that “no symptoms” COVID either. I was extremely sick for weeks. I don’t have a lot of memory from that time and when I started recovering, I spent the next few months with my brain seemingly offline.

During all of that, my mom’s health continued to fail. We lost her the next summer in 2022.

My parents were the family’s rock. Losing both of them felt like the final blow. I spent the next year asking God hard questions and going through a complete identity crisis.

“Who am I when life changes and my roles disappear?”

Every version of myself I’d built my life around was gone.

My marriage had ended 15 years earlier after it turned abusive. I wasn’t a teacher anymore. My kids were grown with families of their own, so even motherhood had changed because I had gone from being the daily caretaker to something quieter… something else entirely.

I was overweight, miserable, and sitting in a quiet house with nothing on my schedule. When people asked what I did, I had no answer. When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back.

So who the heck was I when nobody needed me in the ways they once did?

::: what my life looks like now

Today both of my adult kids have houses here on the homestead, so I get to see my five grandbabies whenever I want. They call me Grandma Honey, and they’re my little honeybees. We have chickens, goats, cattle, peacocks, cats, Cane Corsos, a black lab, and a mini weenie dog running around.

I love to write, journal, scrapbook, and embroider. I enjoy quiet drives and little adventures. HomeGoods is my happy place. I’m in the middle of losing over 100 pounds (42 down so far) and I’m already worrying about the saggy skin that’s coming… and whether I’ll be brave enough for surgery.

I love coffee and chocolate. I’m an introvert who knows she needs to get out more, but it’s just so peopley out there. I’m a hopeless romantic with big trust issues after what my marriage became.

Some days the house is worthy of a Southern Living feature. Other days it looks like a rat pile exploded, and I’m praying Mr. Clean will materialize and come rescue me.

This life is good. It’s full. I’m loved.

And yet… I still don’t know who I want to be when I grow up.

::: why i picked up my pen to write again

At this age, I expected to have it all figured out. Instead, I’m rebuilding from scratch: my identity, my routines, my purpose, what I want my days to look like, and who I am when no one else is defining me by my roles.

I’m writing because I couldn’t find what I needed when I was in the worst of it. There was plenty of “reinvent yourself after 50” content, but very little that spoke to the kind of total life implosion I experienced.

I’ll be completely honest… (whispers) I don’t have it all figured out.

I’m here to walk through this messy, beautiful rebuilding season together with you.

And here’s the vulnerable truth: I need you as much as you might need me. I need to know I’m not the only one asking these questions at 59. I need the accountability of showing up honestly, even when it’s messy.

This isn’t me teaching from a mountaintop. This is me inviting you to come sit with me in the middle of all the beauty and mess while figuring it out together, one day at a time.

Thank you for letting me be honest with you. I can’t wait to hear your story.

Hit reply or leave a comment and tell me what brought you here… or just say hello.

Join me each week for thoughtful essays, writing prompts, and quiet encouragement for a beautiful, intentional life.