It Took Me A While To Get Here
When I retired at the age of 53, most people thought I’d lost my mind. What the hell do you think you are doing? That was the reaction most people had until they realized I was serious, that I was done with public education and being a K-7 librarian just wasn’t what it used to be. Then they changed their tune. At least to my face they did, and there were well-wishers all around, encouraging me to go do my thing.
The first thing I did was dive head first into everything that I enjoyed, wearing all the hats. Truly, I tried to learn everything I could shove into my brain in the alotted amount of time my ass would allow me to sit in a chair each day. Writing my next novel was first priority, or so I told myself it would be. But the guilt of not bringing in as much money as I once did sort of made me feel like I had to build an at home business that might be more promising than banking on the concept of selling my next novel, since I’d only ever self-published. I had lofty ideas.
I started a podcast,…as one does in midlife when they are trying to figure themselves out. It was incredibly hard, super time consuming, and I loved ever single minute of it. I interviewed people from all over the world, we chatted about the incredible changes life throws at us and how valuable, wise, and vital we all still are even though we are past the age of fifty and gravity has long since become a real bitch. Despite the fact that we’ve hit menopause, need therapy, and are struggling to decide whether to color the gray or not, we’ve also discovered the powerful feeling of freedom that aging brings. I for one, have never been happier than I am now in my mid-fifties, (I’m fifty-five).
Along the way, I wrote a book that I queried agents about and proposed as the first in a trilogy. I started the second one, then tabled it for a wildly better idea. In between times though, I’d started a paid monthly membership to go along with the podcast, and Facebook group. I also started a book club, because obviously I didn’t have enough going on already. Did I mention I’m married too? And for some weird reason, my husband actually wanted to see my face once in a while and liked a home cooked meal periodically. This required that I get out of my cave and away from my computer now and then.
I was cruising along, nearing the two-year mark for this community I’d built, when I decided to host a live, in-person event. This went well, if not fairly small, but it was well received. I, along with my co-host who works for The Blue Zones, gave away swag, we each held a talk, and refreshments were served. It was fun. It was exhausting. I never did it again. Not because I didn’t like it, but because I realized I hate organizing shit and would much rather just show up, speak, and drink wine.
Then the most unthinkable thing happened. The person I’d leaned on my entire life and who always seemed to have the best guidance and advice for me, died. My father, my rock, the center pole to our circus in life, left this earth and I was not only shattered, I was in shock. I shouldn’t have been, as he’d been ill for a while, but you never really believe you will have to go on without your father.
But go on I did, because five days after he passed, I was scheduled to go to England, on my first ever trip abroad. I’d never even had a passport until just before this trip and although I told the family I thought there was no way I could go, they all insisted I do just that. “Dad would have wanted you to go!” they all said. Of course I knew they were right.
The trip was magical and surreal all at the same time. The majestic structures that held secrets of ancient times cast a spell on me that made it impossible to feel badly that I was actually enjoying myself, when only days before my father took his last breath. An adventurer himself, I knew Dad was smiling down at me and proud I’d been brave enough to go.
But something shifted over the next few months. Something that slowly, layer by layer started to shift inside of me again, causing me to take notice that my spirit was trying to tell me something. I had to listen.
Part of it was my deeper inner-knowing, and the other part was Dad telling me to stop wasting time doing what I thought I ought to be doing and get going doing that thing I’ve always known I was born to do. Write!
The membership long gone, the book club a thing of the past, I realized that as much as I loved the podcast, it was eating away precious time that I needed in order to be a successful traditionally published author. That has always been my dream. Self-publishing gave me the first taste of success as a writer, as my novel After the Fire, sold really well (before Covid), and the first few months I was an Amazon Best Seller. But I had to pick a lane. All the multi-tasking was not allowing me to be fully successful in either the podcast or with my books.
So I’ve announced to the Beautiful Second Act Community, that it was fun while it lasted, but those doors are closing and I’m stepping into a different place where writing will be the main event. It’s all I’ve ever truly wanted since I was ten years old and started writing stories.
The interesting thing is, after all my mentoring people to live their best life in the second half of life, I’m just now going all in for myself. Maybe the gods or spirits wanted me to create Beautiful Second Act, for the people I needed to reach. To send the message out there to whoever needed to hear it, that it’s never too late to do that thing your heart desires. To take a chance and be brave enough to challenge yourself by getting out of your comfort zone. To not only eat the cake and drink the wine, but grow as a spiritual being and allow yourself to reach higher, dig deeper, and live fully.
But most importantly, to stop disappointing yourself for fear that doing what you really want will disappoint others. We must stop betraying our own needs and desires because we are too afraid it will upset someone else. That’s the worst kind of betrayal. Depriving yourself your own longing and not being true to who you are because it suits others. No one wins if we do that.
So jump in the deep end with me my friend. Do what lights you up inside and gives you enthusiasm. When 2024 hit, I promised myself that my word for the year was INTENTION, and I’m focusing all my energy on the intention to be traditionally published. So I’ll be blogging more on this, staying focused on the writing community, author life, and honing my craft to be the best I can be. I appreciate your support.
Xoxo ~ Patti
