Redefining Meaning

I left my career before the traditional 65-year-old expiration date — not because I had to, but because something in me knew I was done. The work was never the problem — it was the proving. And I came to realize that I didn’t want the rest of my life to be measured by how well someone else thought I could keep up.

I wanted to find out if there was something more than the achievement I knew, more than being a “somebody” at work. At least that part I was sure of. So, I stepped into the unknown, trusting that I could build a life that wasn’t about proving anything anymore, but about being more of who I am, whoever that is.

At first, that “something” I wanted looked a lot like what it used to. It took a while, but eventually I realized that I didn’t need to keep forcing myself into things that looked good on paper or seemed “good enough” to prove myself to the world in my next chapter. I didn’t need to keep chasing what made me seem important — well, at least important to myself. I just needed to live from the inside out this time, not only because I finally could do it financially, but also because I wanted to know that there can be more satisfaction in life after a good career. And I believed I wasn’t just shooting at the moon or imagining a kind of life that didn’t really exist. I just needed to figure out how to do it.

When Hoda Kotb announced her departure from The Today Show last year after turning 60 and wanting to do something different, I felt a flash of recognition. And kinship. I was already in that space myself: questioning what this next chapter could be, realizing there was something beyond the striving and achievement that had shaped so much of my life, and I was working through it. Suddenly, I felt less alone. Maybe there’s a movement afoot? Someone else was feeling it too. I wasn’t crazy after all. Someone affirming that recognizing an ending is good, that not forcing myself into what no longer feels true was a kind of wisdom.

So, when her new project — a subscription platform called Joy 101 — launched recently, I didn’t expect to be disappointed. But I was. I’m not really sure how to describe it, but the disconnect I felt between who she seemed to be becoming and what she chose reminded me that what I was working on won’t be found in an app.

The truth is, I love Hoda. And she’s entitled to her version of her next chapter. I’m sure her passion is sincere, but the rollout felt like a move, a carefully packaged push of polished visibility that left me feeling distant and craving something, well, … more real. Something that invited more reflection and less pre-packaged positivity.

Maybe it’s because, for me, finally anchoring my choices in what feels real has been my most significant discovery. I realized that some of my own ideas about what an ‘acceptable’ next chapter strategy should look like turned out to be just another push. I thought I had to ‘brand’ this new time after my career — frame it as a conquest, a revolution, something worthy that would make sense to others in the big fat exciting world. But it just didn’t sit right, and I discovered that only when I stopped pushing did I begin to truly hear my heart.

But maybe my discomfort isn’t about Hoda’s choice at all. Maybe it’s how disoriented I feel by how loud the world is about reinvention being all about the proving — about sustaining a kind of acceptable churn as the only currency of relevance that counts. It’s what the world expects: that your next chapter will be engineered to fit a polished version to be a ‘success.’ Maybe even an app. Otherwise, you risk becoming a bad stereotype.

I’m reinventing — but not in a way that others might even see. Just smaller, quieter shifts, in ways that feel good and that don’t require discomfort just to prove I can still grow. It’s not about pushing anymore — it’s about recognizing a pull. Big or not so big.

I’ve come to realize that I don’t need to rebrand my life. I’m simply choosing what matters to me, quietly. Still, old habits die hard, and it’s easy to get pulled back into the proving game. But I’ve learned I’m happier outside it — doing things that may not fit my experience or boost my profile but feel strangely fitting.

Volunteering at a food warehouse, my writing, and being part of this time of life — contributing to it, learning from it, and sharing what I find. My choices don’t have to look bold, be ‘uncomfortable’, or come wrapped in nice graphics to feel like vitality.

And maybe that’s the clearest definition of meaning I’ve ever had.

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash