There’s a kind of overwhelm that has nothing to do with deadlines, and everything to do with possibility.
You might know it.
The quiet pressure of unfinished ideas. Of folders and saved articles. Of software tools you meant to explore. The sense that there’s still more you could be doing, not because anyone’s asking, but because your own mind keeps generating options.
I’ve carried this for decades. In earlier life, I called it ambition. Creativity. Drive.
But now, in my 60s, I’m recognising something else beneath it: a deep desire to contribute, to create, to keep shaping meaning in this next chapter.
And sometimes … it’s too much.
This time last week, I’d already scheduled my newsletter to post because I was heading to a music festival. I spent four days in the heat, listening to bands. That’s part of how I stay balanced. There’s the work I do with clients and writing, the quiet time I spend in the woods, and then there’s music: loud, physical, body-shaking music that vibrates right through you.
But on the final day, while packing up my camping gear, I slammed the heavy tailgate of my car, and it hit me on the head. The same spot where I had a bad concussion last autumn. Not ideal. I drove home early, a bit shaken, watching for symptoms, debating whether to call 111. Thankfully, I was okay. But it was a reminder. Of the pressure I put on myself, even when there’s no need.
I’d wanted to leave early to avoid the traffic jam of everyone trying to exit on Sunday morning. I didn’t want to waste hours in a field. But in trying to be efficient, I rushed, and paid the price.
And when I got home, I didn’t rest. I tidied. I sorted. I thought about everything that needed doing, until I caught myself.
So, on Sunday, I chose a different rhythm.
A swim and sauna to come back into my body
A visit to my woods, not to work, just to sit
Letting tasks stay in their folders, without guilt
Tidying, not for control, but for ease
Because truthfully, I still carry this low-level pressure. Not from external demands, but from within. I buy software tools, believing the hype, hoping they’ll help, but rarely find the time to use them fully. And my mind is constantly generating new ideas. So many possible directions to take my work and writing.
That’s why I have three books in progress. One with my editor – Career Coaching for Midlife and Beyond, one nearly finished – ThriveSpan, and the third, Olderhood, deliberately paused, because I know I can’t juggle everything at once.
Even today, as I sat down to write, I had multiple topics I could have explored. But this felt the most honest. Because I know I’m not alone in this.
People often say that life slows down as you get older. And for some, that’s true. But not for everyone. Not for me.
I still see all the things I want to do. All the information I want to share. All the ways I want to make a difference.
And I’m six weeks away from turning 68. Some of my older friends tell me that’s still young, and maybe it is. But you start thinking differently. You notice your energy more. You become more aware that another head injury might be one too many.
So, this post is also a pause. A rebalancing. A reminder that I don’t have to chase every idea, even the good ones.
There is still so much possibility in later life. But we don’t have to follow every thread.
We can choose which ones to honour, and which to gently lay down.
That’s part of what I explore in ThriveSpan, the philosophy and book I’ve been writing about ageing, purpose, and the art of tending to what matters now.
We are still expanding.
But we’re also allowed to pause.
Reflection Prompt: What Wants Space Now?
Where in your life are you feeling full: mentally, emotionally, or physically?
What might it mean to honour your creativity without chasing every idea?
What would more space look like for you right now?
I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Have you felt this kind of quiet overwhelm, especially in later life?
How do you relate to possibility, pressure, or the urge to do more?
Drop a comment, or just take a quiet moment with the questions.
Sometimes, that’s enough.
