I’m 58 And I Still Don’t Know Who I Want To Be When I Grow 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)

Dear Friend,

I’m 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. Not “just a few things” empty. Actually empty.

At 58, you’d think I’d have this figured out by now. You’d think I’d know who I am, what I want, where I’m going. You’d think the question “What do you want to be when you grow up?” would have been settled somewhere around 1985.

Nope.

I’m still asking it. And honestly? Most days I have no idea how to answer.

The Day Everything Changed (And Then Got Worse)

Let me back up to the summer of 2021. The school year from hell had just ended. We’d lost my daddy during the first month of that year. My mother’s health was failing and I was spending more time in doctors’ offices and hospitals than in my classroom. We were living through a worldwide pandemic with rules I didn’t agree with and effects on kids that stressed me out daily.

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 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 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 Everyone I Was Disappears?

Here’s what I realized during that year: Every version of myself I’d built my identity on was gone.

I wasn’t a teacher anymore. I’d walked out of my marriage almost 15 years ago after it suddenly became abusive. My kids were adults starting their own families. My parents were gone.

I was overweight and miserable and sitting in a quiet house with nothing on my calendar and no idea who I was supposed to be.

When people asked what I did, I had no answer. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t recognize myself. When I tried to plan my week, I realized I had nothing to plan around.

I’d spent decades being a teacher, a mother, a daughter. I was good at those things. I knew how to show up for them. But who was I when nobody needed me to BE those things anymore?

Wanna hear a secret?

It’s been a few years now, and I’m still trying to figure that out.

What My Life Actually Looks Like Now

Here’s my reality today: Both of my adult kids have their houses here on the homestead, so I get to see my five grandbabies when I want. My grandma name is Grandma Honey and they’re my honeybees. The family has chickens, goats, and cattle. There are also several cats, two Cane Corsos, a black lab, and a mini weenie dog running around the place.

I love to write. I journal and scrapbook and do embroidery. I like to drive and go on quiet little adventures. Forget Disney… HomeGoods is the happiest place on earth. LOL

I’m in the midst of trying to lose over 100 pounds. I’ve lost 36 so far. I fear the saggy skin I know is coming and might consider plastic surgery for it, which scares me because I’ve never had surgery.

I love coffee and chocolate. I’m an introvert who needs to get out more, but it’s just too peopley out there.

I’m also a hopeless romantic with massive trust issues after my ex-husband’s sudden abuse and the infidelity I found out about after I left.

Some days my house is lovely. Some days it veers into “where the heck did this rat pile come from” territory and I’m praying for Mr. Clean to come whisk me away.

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

And I still have no idea who I want to be when I grow up.

The Absurdity Of Rebuilding At 58

You know what’s wild? At 58, I thought I’d have this figured out. I thought by now I’d know myself, know what I want, know what my purpose is.

Instead, I’m rebuilding everything from scratch. Identity, routines, purpose, what I want my days to look like, what matters to me, who I am when nobody’s defining me by my roles.

And here’s the kicker: I have no idea if I’m doing it right.

Some days I wake up energized and clear about what I want to work on. Some days I wake up and think, “What’s the point?” Some days I hear God clearly about specific things in my life. Some days I’m still waiting to hear what He has planned next and wondering if He’s going to give me a hint anytime soon.

But here’s what I know for sure: This season is supposed to be here. It’s not punishment. It’s not God forgetting about me after that retirement conversation. He was with me through every bit of the hard stuff, even when He wasn’t answering my questions about what comes next. He knew I needed to heal before I could handle what He had planned.

This season is sacred, even when it’s hard, even when it’s confusing, even when I feel like I should have it together by now.

Why I’m Writing This Sacred Season

I’m writing because I couldn’t find what I needed when I was in the worst of it. I found plenty of inspiration for women “finding themselves” after 50. I found advice about self-care and boundaries that assumed I had unlimited emotional bandwidth. I found content about thriving in your empty nest that didn’t account for the fact that sometimes your whole life implodes at once and you’re just trying to survive.

What You Can Expect From Me

I’m not going to pretend I have this figured out. I’m not going to give you a five-step plan to finding yourself or discovering your purpose or hearing God’s voice clearly every time you ask a question.

Why I Need You Here

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 58. I need to know that when I write about the absurdity and the struggle and the rebuilding, it resonates with someone else who’s living it too. I need the accountability of showing up and being honest about when it’s messy.

This isn’t me teaching from some mountaintop of having arrived. This is me inviting you into the process of figuring it out together. You’ll help me as much as I hope I’ll help you.

So thank you for being here. Thank you for opening this. Thank you for trusting me with your time.

Hit reply and tell me: What brought you here today? What version of yourself disappeared that you're trying to rebuild?

~ Mary Kaye