The third chapter—the part of life where the glitter and ribbons of youthful approval have worn off, and the next pages are still unwritten. You start piecing things together differently. You don’t just decorate your life anymore; you construct it—deliberately and defiantly—from fragments of what’s true, what’s joyful, and what refuses to be quieted.

Shenanigans matter! They’re a testament to redefining aging for women, proving that laughter and connection can transform the way we see ourselves and each other. When you’re joyful, your body lights up with all kinds of good hormones, including dopamine and oxytocin, serotonin, and endorphins—the quartet responsible for happiness, connection, and that unbeatable feel-good glow.

I’ve been thinking about walking the walk—especially since we have so much talk swirling around these days. Parsing that out led me to thinking about values and virtues—what they mean and how they’re connected. Think of values as the "why" and virtues as the "how." If you value justice, you might practice the virtue of fairness. If you value wisdom, you might cultivate the virtue of discernment. If you value love, you might express it through the virtue of generosity.

Aging quietly? Nope. Not here. Not now. Not ever. We’ve spent too many years navigating expectations, smoothing our edges, and whispering when we should have been roaring. This third chapter? It’s ours to live out loud—with presence, power, and a refusal to shrink.

Doors open all the time. Some swing wide while others creak just enough for us to slip through. But an open door isn’t the same as a seat at the table, and a seat at the table isn’t the same as feeling like you are truly valued.

Inclusion is the invitation, the open door. But belonging? That requires stepping through as yourself—not as the person you think the room wants. And if we’re still wearing masks to fit in, are we really belonging at all?

What is it about time that sharpens our sense of justice? Why do older women, instead of fading into invisibility, step into their power and demand justice?

History tells us this: When the world needs progressive revolution, look for the women who have seen too much, who have outlived patience, and who no longer care whether they ruffle feathers, or “worse”.

Arriving into our third chapter is like stepping off a train into a bustling station—equal parts chaos and charm, where every platform holds the promise of a new adventure. But before we rush forward, there’s a small office tucked away in the corner, waiting for us: the Lost and Found.

Fifty blogs. That’s fifty deep dives into the messy, magical, rebellious world of aging on our own terms. Fifty invitations to rethink, reimagine, and reclaim the narrative. Fifty conversations that have sparked insights, laughter, and maybe even a few well-placed side-eyes at outdated ideas about what it means to be a woman growing older.

This myth hinges on the idea that opportunities are a zero-sum game, where someone gaining means someone else must lose. But life, work, and society are not pie. There’s enough room for all of us, and what older people bring to the table—experience, wisdom, and mentorship—creates more opportunities, not fewer.

This myth is a master of disguise. It pretends to be a compliment to your supposed wisdom and life experience, but really, it’s a trap. It piles on the pressure to have everything neatly tied up with a bow: career, relationships, health, finances, purpose. And when something inevitably feels out of place, the myth whispers, “You’re failing.”

This myth leans heavily on fear—the fear of being forgotten, sidelined, or disconnected as we age. It paints a picture of older women sitting alone in a dimly lit room, their social lives a distant memory. But let’s be real: loneliness isn’t an age problem; it’s a connection problem. And older women? They’ve got the skills, wisdom, and courage to foster some of the deepest, most fulfilling connections imaginable.

“Act your age” is code for: “Stay in your lane.” “Tone it down.” or “Don’t make us uncomfortable.” But who decides what’s “age-appropriate,” anyway? Spoiler alert: it’s usually someone who hasn’t lived as much life as you have. This myth isn’t just annoying; it’s creativity-crushing and individuality-stifling. The truth is, age isn’t a behavior. It’s just a number.

The myth that life peaks in youth and everything afterward is a slow, sad decline is so ingrained, it practically goes unchallenged. It’s the plotline of countless commercials and sitcoms: the older person as a relic, overshadowed by the vibrance of youth. But here’s the truth: while youth might come with energy and smooth skin, age brings something even more valuable—depth, clarity, and an unparalleled richness of perspective.

I’ve been thinking about the half-truths and falsehoods about aging we’ve ingested over our lifetimes. I had some extra brain space since I’ve been on a news diet. My restless mind chewed on these myths. The more I thought, the clearer the actions became that we can use as an antidote to these toxic tales. Over the next month or so, I’ll introduce some of these myths and some shifts. Let’s get started!

by Amanda Gorman

May this be the day
We come together.
Mourning, we come to mend,
Withered, we come to weather,
Torn, we come to tend,
Battered, we come to better.

What brought the kind of joy that makes your wrinkles show up in all the right ways? Let's pack more of that into the coming year(s). Is it more time with people who light you up? Moments of stillness that feed your soul? Adventures that make your heart race? Think of it as curating a playlist for your coming year. Let’s embrace what truly matters.

Amid the flicker of festive lights, the singing of the faithful recreating Mary and Joseph’s search for an inn (called the Posada), and the joyful booms of endless fireworks, my favorite day isn’t marked by a party or presents. It’s Solstice—the longest night of the year, offering the quiet promise that each day will grow a little brighter for the next six months.

2024! A year of surprises—big and small, welcomed and not. Like when I sent out an audience survey, only to discover that most women dislike the term “Crone”! (True story.) Oh, the journey is never smooth—but always worth it.

Ah, Thanksgiving—the holiday that gives us turkey, pie, and a side dish of tension. Is there any other celebration so fraught with potential for family drama, political landmines, and the kind of over-sharing that makes you regret inviting Uncle Frank? This year, tensions could be even higher, thanks to our current climate of polarization. But here’s the thing: we don’t have to let the stuffing hit the fan.

What are you doing to adjust to the new reality? I don’t know about you, but I’ve turned off my beloved NPR and all news sources and have crawled into music for solace.