Nadine J Walters – My Life

Question for today: How does old feel?

Answer: Not great—but not all bad either. That’s how I’d sum it up. I’ve moved from being “older” to being simply “old.” And old, I’ve discovered, is when you stop fighting the slowing down and finally accept that you have slowed down. Believe it or not, it’s not the worst place to be in the aging process.

Now that I’ve arrived at old age, I find myself wondering: What comes next? Oldest? Beyond old? Really, really old?

But the truth is, it doesn’t really matter. It’s going to happen anyway, and it’s not something to be sad about. Sure, we lose mobility, a bit of mental sharpness, and move at a slower pace—but life is still good. Some days, I feel like I’m back in my twenties or thirties. Then I walk past a mirror and catch sight of that familiar face: “Old” Nadine. I’m learning to pause in those moments, smile at her, maybe even give a wink. She’s still here. Life is still good. Joy is still possible.

I felt compelled to write today because, well, getting old also means experiencing loss. I’ve lost both my parents, my older brother, my uncle—and I just found out my aunt is going into assisted living. My husband and brother-in-law are both dealing with chronic illnesses. Sometimes it feels like we’re all just waiting for the next shoe to drop. I know that sounds morbid, but it’s the quiet truth of this stage of life.

Back in my twenties and thirties, I worked with a woman twenty years my senior. Every morning, she read the obituaries in the newspaper. I thought it was a strange little habit—quirky, even. But now? I get it. That same woman passed away a few months ago. When I think of her now, it’s not the obituaries that come to mind—it’s the kindness she shared, the good she did for others. That’s the legacy I want to focus on. And honestly, I want to do better in that area.

I used to be very committed to my volunteer work. But somewhere along the way, that drive began to fade. At first, I worried maybe aging had made me selfish. But as I reflect, I see it differently. These past few years have been heavy—caring for my parents through their illnesses and deaths, handling my brother’s passing and estate, managing my husband’s health, and supporting my sister through her husband’s decline. That’s a lot of emotional weight. It’s not just the trauma of what happens to us—it’s the pain we absorb from those around us.

And maybe that’s why teaching yoga and meditation has become harder for me. I tend to take in the energy and emotions of the people in my classes, and sometimes it feels like they’re seeking something I just don’t have the reserves to give. So I’ve been easing back. I’m replacing some of that space with more time spent with family, and I’m thinking of dipping my toes back into volunteer work. I need something that gives me energy instead of draining it—something that fills me up rather than leaves me empty.

When I sat down to write this, I didn’t mean to sound negative—and I hope I haven’t. In truth, putting these thoughts into words has lightened my spirit. It’s helped me realize that being “old” isn’t the end of the story. It’s just a deeper chapter, filled with reflection, resilience, and the quiet wisdom of a life well-lived. And if I can still find purpose, still share love, still give a smile and a wink to my own reflection—then maybe, just maybe, this part of life has its own kind of magic.