On privacy, connection, quiet confidence, and the surprising freedom of growing older

Greetings, my lovelies!

I woke up to rain this morning, and I must say, it was a wonderful way to begin the day. The sky was draped in soft gray clouds, the desert was getting a much-needed drink, and the cooler air was a welcome change from Tucson’s relentless heat. Best of all, I could actually wear jeans without wondering if I’d made a terrible decision before breakfast. There’s something rather comforting about a rainy morning, especially when you can enjoy it from inside your own home with a cup of coffee and nowhere you particularly need to be.

Today’s October writing prompt asks, “What Has Surprised You About Getting Older?” What didn’t your younger self see coming? The funny things, the freeing things, the irritating things, and those unexpected discoveries that seem to sneak up on us somewhere between our younger years and the realization that we’re now the adults who get excited about comfortable shoes and a good night’s sleep.

I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit lately, especially as I look at the changes I want to make in my life. Surprisingly, the biggest revelations haven’t been about wrinkles, gray hair, or the occasional mysterious ache. They’ve been about people, privacy, happiness, and the realization that I no longer need to explain or display every aspect of my existence.

The Strange Balance Between Connection and Solitude

One of the things that has surprised me most is how much I want meaningful connections while simultaneously appreciating my solitude. I would love to have more friends nearby, spend more time with family, and have people in my life who enjoy getting together for coffee, dinner, an afternoon adventure, or simply a good conversation. There’s something wonderful about laughter that comes naturally, the kind that starts with one ridiculous comment and ends with everyone wiping tears from their eyes.

Yet I also treasure being alone in my home. I enjoy the familiar sounds of the animals moving around, the aroma of coffee drifting through the kitchen, and the quiet moments when I can sit down with a book or simply watch the world outside my window. I don’t always want conversation, company, or activity. Sometimes I want the freedom to exist in my own space without anyone expecting anything from me, and I’ve learned there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.

What I’ve come to understand is that solitude and loneliness are not interchangeable. Solitude is something I choose because it brings me peace. Loneliness is something entirely different, and it can happen even when we’re surrounded by people or occupied with responsibilities. You can spend an entire day interacting with others and still feel disconnected, just as you can spend a quiet afternoon alone and feel perfectly content.

That realization has also changed how I think about success, particularly when it comes to the hours we spend working. Making a good amount of money is certainly important, and I’m not about to suggest that financial security doesn’t matter. The mortgage or rent doesn’t pay itself, groceries aren’t getting any cheaper, and I’m fairly certain the electric company would laugh if I tried paying my bill with positive energy and a handful of crystals.

But what good is a comfortable income if you spend much of your day feeling isolated or lonely? I’ve experienced environments where people laughed together, shared ideas, enjoyed friendly conversations, and genuinely felt like part of something. Those little interactions can make an ordinary day enjoyable, and I’ve come to appreciate just how valuable they are. As I get older, I find myself caring less about what looks impressive on paper and more about how my life actually feels while I’m living it.

I don’t need constant activity or people entertaining me every moment. I simply want a sense of belonging, opportunities for genuine connection, and the freedom to come home afterward and enjoy my peace. Apparently, I’ve reached the age where I want people in my life, but I also want them to occasionally leave me the hell alone. It’s a delicate balance, my lovelies, but I’m learning to appreciate it.

Privacy Isn’t the Same as Hiding

This brings me to something I’ve recently changed. My personal Facebook is now friends only, and I have no intention of making a grand production out of that decision. Of course, the irony of discussing it in a public blog post isn’t lost on me, but there’s a larger point here that I think is worth exploring.

When I was younger, I subscribed to the familiar idea that if you had nothing to hide, you shouldn’t care who saw what you shared. Over time, I’ve realized that privacy has very little to do with hiding something. It’s about recognizing that your personal life belongs to you and that you get to decide which parts of it you share, with whom, and when.

When Ronnie and I go somewhere, the world doesn’t need to know that we’ve left the house, where we’ve stopped, or what we’re doing every fifteen minutes. If I want to share photographs or write about an adventure afterward, I will. If I want to keep a particular experience between us, that’s perfectly fine too. The same applies to my political opinions, spiritual beliefs, and everyday activities. I don’t owe anyone a running commentary on my existence, right down to when I pee, when I poop, or which leg I put into my pants first.

Although now that I’ve mentioned it, I’m curious which leg actually goes first. That’s going to bother me tomorrow morning, isn’t it?

I can already imagine someone wondering how I can say I want more meaningful connections while making my Facebook friends only. To me, the answer is rather simple. Wanting people in my life doesn’t mean wanting an audience watching my life. I want friendships built on conversations, shared experiences, laughter, and trust, not on how much personal information someone can gather by scrolling through my social media.

My blog is a place where I intentionally share stories, reflections, and experiences with readers. My personal Facebook serves a different purpose, and I see no reason why the two should have identical boundaries. Being open in one part of my life doesn’t mean I have to surrender privacy in every other part. In fact, I think knowing the difference is one of the more valuable things I’ve learned with age.

When Everything Becomes a Public Performance

I suspect some of these thoughts have been influenced by the amount of drama I’ve encountered while watching TikTok. Good grief, people! Some of those live videos make the old daytime soap operas look positively restrained, and that’s saying something considering the number of marriages, affairs, long-lost relatives, and miraculous returns from the dead those shows managed to squeeze into a single afternoon.

I’ve watched people publicly discuss arguments with their partners, disputes involving their children’s fathers, intimate details of their sex lives, and family disagreements that probably should have remained between the people involved. Meanwhile, complete strangers are sitting in the comments offering opinions, choosing sides, and adding fuel to a fire they know almost nothing about. It’s fascinating in a rather disturbing way, like watching someone deliberately knock over a display of glassware and then act surprised by the mess.

I understand that people sometimes share personal experiences because they’re seeking support, connection, or understanding. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, and everyone has different comfort levels when it comes to what they disclose. What puzzles me is the apparent expectation that every argument, emotional moment, or personal disagreement needs to become entertainment for an audience.

Somewhere along the way, I think we’ve started confusing authenticity with constant exposure. Being genuine doesn’t require sharing every private conversation, disagreement, or intimate detail of your life. You can be honest about who you are while still keeping certain experiences to yourself, and you can have a wonderfully interesting life without documenting every minute of it for strangers.

Learning That Strength Doesn’t Require Volume

Another thing that has surprised me about getting older is how much I’ve come to appreciate softness. There’s a popular idea that women, especially as we reach midlife and beyond, should become louder, bolder, more confrontational, and completely unapologetic about everything. While I wholeheartedly support women finding their voices and standing up for themselves, I don’t understand why confidence so often seems to be measured by volume.

I’ve reached a point where I don’t give a flying monkey’s ass what people think about every decision I make, but that doesn’t mean I need to announce my opinions at full volume or turn every disagreement into a confrontation. I can have strong convictions, firm boundaries, and a perfectly functional vocabulary of colorful expressions without feeling obligated to demonstrate all three whenever someone says something I dislike.

There’s something rather lovely about people who are comfortable enough with themselves to be gentle. People who can speak calmly, listen thoughtfully, laugh easily, and enjoy a conversation without needing to dominate it. I admire those qualities more now than I did when I was younger, perhaps because I’ve come to understand that peace is something worth protecting rather than something to sacrifice for every passing argument.

Now, don’t mistake softness for weakness. I have no intention of becoming a doormat, agreeing with everyone to keep the peace, or allowing someone to disrespect me simply because I’ve decided I prefer a quieter life. There’s a time to speak up, a time to stand firm, and occasionally a time when a well-placed four-letter word gets the point across beautifully. The difference is that I no longer feel compelled to respond to absolutely everything.

Spirituality Is Personal, Not a Costume

This appreciation for a quieter, more authentic way of living extends to my spirituality as well. I’m a witch, and my beliefs are an important part of how I understand myself and my connection to nature, animals, and the world around me. Yet I don’t feel the need to announce that identity to everyone I encounter, any more than I believe Christians, Buddhists, Pagans, or people of any other faith need to introduce themselves by declaring their religious beliefs.

There’s nothing wrong with being proud of your spiritual path or discussing it openly when you choose. I enjoy conversations about mythology, deities, symbolism, and the many ways people experience spirituality. But I also believe there’s something meaningful about allowing those parts of ourselves to be discovered naturally as relationships develop, rather than feeling obligated to put everything on display.

And can we talk about the aesthetic for a moment? Between movies, television shows, fantasy novels, and social media, there seems to be an increasingly theatrical idea of what a witch is supposed to look like. Flowing black dresses, dramatic makeup, mysterious expressions, elaborate jewelry, and enough accessories to make it look as though someone has purchased the entire inventory of a metaphysical shop. Apparently, if you’re not dressed like you’ve just stepped out of a supernatural television series, someone might question whether you’re doing witchcraft correctly.

Don’t misunderstand me, because I love beautiful clothing, meaningful jewelry, crystals, and a touch of old-world charm. Give me a lovely bodice, a flowing skirt, and a piece of jewelry with a story behind it, and I’ll happily admire every detail. But enjoying an aesthetic and practicing a spiritual path are two different things, and neither should be mistaken for the other.

Some of us look like ordinary women going about our everyday lives. We’re working, grocery shopping, cooking dinner, caring for our homes, loving our families, and trying to remember why we walked into the kitchen in the first place. You could pass me on the street and never know I’m a witch, and that doesn’t bother me in the slightest. If we became friends, you might eventually learn more about my beliefs, my connection to the natural world, and the things I find spiritually meaningful.

To me, that’s how genuine relationships should develop. We learn about people through conversations, shared experiences, and the trust that grows over time. Not everything about us needs to be obvious at first glance, and not everything meaningful requires an audience. Some of the most important things we believe and practice are woven quietly into our everyday lives.

The Freedom I Never Expected

When I think about what younger me might have expected from getting older, I doubt any of this would have made the list. I probably would have thought about wrinkles, gray hair, aches and pains, or becoming one of those women who complains that things aren’t made the way they used to be. And while I may occasionally have a few opinions about modern appliances, that’s hardly the most interesting part of aging.

What I never anticipated was the freedom that comes from becoming more comfortable with myself. The freedom to change my mind, reconsider what success means, appreciate solitude without wanting isolation, and recognize that I can be both gentle and strong. I’ve discovered that I don’t need to prove my happiness through photographs, my success through money, my confidence through confrontation, or my spirituality through the way I dress.

I still want adventures, friendships, laughter, new experiences, and plenty of stories worth telling. I want to explore more of the world, enjoy time with Ronnie, continue growing my blog, and create a life that feels full rather than simply busy. But I also want peaceful mornings, private memories, quiet evenings, and the ability to enjoy something wonderful without immediately thinking about how to share it.

Outside my window, the rain has given Tucson a welcome reprieve from the heat, and I’m enjoying the simple pleasure of being comfortable in jeans again. The morning doesn’t need to become anything more extraordinary than it already is. Sometimes a good cup of coffee, a little quiet, and the freedom to spend the day being yourself are more than enough.

Perhaps that’s what has surprised me most about getting older. I haven’t lost my personality, my curiosity, my opinions, or my desire to experience life. I’m simply becoming more selective about where I put my energy and who I invite into my world.

I want more people in my life, not more people watching my life.

And I no longer feel the need to prove who I am to people who aren’t interested in genuinely knowing me.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, the day is winding down, my bed is calling, and I’m looking forward to slipping beneath the covers and enjoying a little peace and quiet. As for the mystery of which leg goes into my pants first? Well, that investigation can wait until tomorrow morning.

Getting older certainly keeps life interesting, doesn’t it?

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Now it’s your turn, my lovelies. What has surprised you most about getting older? Have your priorities changed, have you become more private, or have you discovered that the things you once thought mattered aren’t nearly as important as they seemed?

I’d love to hear your thoughts, because I suspect many of us are discovering that getting older isn’t simply about the years we’ve lived. It’s about learning how we actually want to live the years ahead.