Finding yourself in the desert of transition—and discovering the oasis within

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You know that feeling when you wake up one morning and realize the life you’ve been living—the roles that have shaped you for decades—suddenly feel… empty? The kids are grown and doing their own thing. The career that ate up your days is over. The caregiving that made you who you are isn’t needed the same way anymore. Or maybe you’re the one who built your whole sense of self around being the provider, the fix-it person, the one everyone could count on.

If these thoughts hit home, you’re not alone. As a psychiatric nurse practitioner who has worked with people over 60 for more than 15 years, I see this huge identity shift almost every day. And here’s what I want you to know: what you’re going through isn’t a crisis—it’s more like being in a cocoon.

The Desert of In-Between

Let me paint you a picture. Imagine finding yourself in the middle of a huge desert, suddenly without the usual water or food that kept you going. The landscape feels strange and scary. You drift from one thing to the next, feeling a slow, heavy emptiness that seems to touch everything. Your ability to focus has scattered like sand in the wind, and you float outside your daily world, cut off from the routines that once gave your life structure and meaning.

This is what retirement—or any big life change—can feel like for people who have spent decades focused on external expectations or other people’s needs. Whether you’ve been the main caregiver, the breadwinner, the go-to person at work, or the one everyone turned to for answers, the anxiety and depression you might be feeling makes total sense. That bone-deep tiredness mixed with restless impatience hits all of us when the things that once shaped us suddenly disappear. Your nervous system, wired for decades of purposeful action and constant responsibility, suddenly finds itself in unknown territory.

Here’s the thing our culture doesn’t tell us: this in-between space—this uncomfortable middle ground—isn’t something to rush through or fix. It’s something to respect.

The Brain Science of New Beginnings

Your brain has been beautifully designed to create pathways around familiar patterns and purposes. For years, maybe decades, those pathways carved deep grooves around your identity as a parent, professional, caregiver, provider, or problem-solver. When those roles shift or end, your brain goes through what scientists call “cognitive dissonance”—basically, your brain gets confused.

But here’s the amazing truth: this same flexibility that created those deep grooves can create brand new ones. Your brain at 60, 70, or beyond can still form fresh pathways, new connections, different ways of being in the world. The temporary confusion you feel is actually your brain getting ready for a makeover.

Think of it like this: you’re waiting for something new to be born. Just as a mother has to go through the nine months of pregnancy, trusting that new life will come when it’s ready, you too are in a sacred waiting period. There’s so much happening beneath the surface—in your heart and mind—but the timing belongs to something bigger than your immediate comfort.

The Gift of Feeling Lost

What I wish more people understood is that if you give yourself time in this empty, in-between space, you can come out the other side feeling more fulfilled and genuinely yourself than you have in decades. The fear that “this is all there is” or that you’ve lost yourself through years of focusing on external expectations makes sense—but it’s not the truth.

The truth is, you haven’t lost yourself. You’ve just been dormant, like seeds waiting through winter for the right conditions to grow.

Many of the people I work with, especially those who’ve had demanding careers, been main caregivers, or carried the weight of being the family’s rock, struggle most with this change. They’ve become so good at reading external demands, meeting other people’s expectations, living by society’s rules for success, that they’ve forgotten how to tune into their own inner world.

But your body knows. Even when your mind feels confused, your body is giving you signals. That slow, heavy feeling? It’s asking you to rest, to stop the constant motion. The inability to focus on tasks that once seemed important? Maybe those tasks never really mattered to your true self. The drifting from one thing to the next? That’s exploration, not failure.

Permission to Feel the Discomfort

Here’s the permission I want to give you: it’s totally okay—actually, it’s necessary—to feel the discomfort and anxiety of this change. Our culture teaches us to rush toward solutions, to stay busy, to have it all figured out. But wisdom sometimes means sitting with uncertainty, letting the old identity break down into soil for something new.

You don’t need to explain this time of exploration to anyone. You don’t need to have a five-year plan or a clear picture of what comes next. You’re not being selfish by taking time to rediscover what brings you joy. You’re not “past your prime” by making space for dreams you put aside decades ago to come back.

This is your time. Not time stolen from others, but time that belongs completely to you.

Going Back to Your Ten-Year-Old Self

When I work with people going through this change, I often ask them to think back to themselves at ten years old—before society started shaping them into providers and people-pleasers, before they learned that their worth was measured by how much they could accomplish or how well they could take care of others. What did that kid love? Where did they want to explore? What made their eyes light up?

Here’s your gentle homework for tonight: find some photos of yourself around that age. Really look at that child’s face. See the curiosity, the natural joy, the unfiltered interest in the world. That spirit hasn’t disappeared—it’s been waiting patiently for you to remember.

This week, I invite you to ask yourself: What did I love before I learned to love what others needed me to love? What fascinated me before I became fascinated with meeting expectations and solving everyone else’s problems?

This month, give yourself permission to explore one small thing that ten-year-old you would have found delightful. Maybe it’s art supplies you haven’t touched in years. Maybe it’s a garden you’ve always wanted to plant. Maybe it’s music, writing, woodworking, cooking, or just taking long walks without any purpose or destination.

Your Inner Compass Still Works

Even when you feel most lost, you have access to an inner wisdom that’s been with you all along. Your body will tell you what brings life and what drains it. Notice what makes you feel expansive versus what makes you shrink. Pay attention to what creates real curiosity versus what feels like obligation.

You have more choice and power than you realize. Every morning, you can choose to approach this day as an explorer rather than a victim of circumstances. You can choose to see this empty space as fertile ground rather than barren desert. You can choose to trust that something beautiful is growing in the silence.

Three Truths for the Journey

As you navigate this tender territory of rediscovering yourself, hold these truths close:

First, this change isn’t a crisis—it’s a doorway. The emptiness you feel isn’t proof that your best years are behind you; it’s evidence that you’re ready for something new to emerge.

Second, as long as you’re alive, you can still grow and change. Your capacity for joy, creativity, and meaningful contribution doesn’t get smaller with age—it often gets deeper, becomes more authentic, more aligned with who you truly are beneath all the roles you’ve played.

Third, you don’t have to have it all figured out right now. The path shows up one step at a time. Your only job is to stay curious, stay gentle with yourself, and trust that the desert will give way to an oasis more beautiful than anything you could have planned.

The Art of Beginning Again

Here’s what I’ve learned after walking alongside countless people through this transformation: those who come out most vibrant from this change are the ones who resist the urge to immediately fill the empty space with new obligations. Instead, they learn to befriend the uncertainty, to sit with the slow, heavy feelings until something authentic stirs from within.

They discover that beginning again at 60 isn’t about becoming someone completely new—it’s about becoming more fully themselves than they’ve ever been allowed to be.

You are not too old to dream new dreams. You are not too set in your ways to explore new paths. You are not too late to the party of your own life.

This desert you’re crossing? It’s not punishment—it’s preparation. And on the other side waits a version of yourself you haven’t met yet, but one you’re going to absolutely love.

Take your time. Feel the discomfort. Trust the process. And remember—every ending is also a beginning, and you are just getting started.

Sweet dreams, and here’s to the beautiful unknown ahead! ✨

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Books for the Journey

If you’re looking for deeper exploration of this life transition, here are some wonderful companions for your journey:

James Hollis – Essential Reading:

• Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life – A profound guide to understanding the psychological tasks of midlife and beyond
• What Matters Most: Living a More Considered Life – Explores how to live authentically when external roles fall away
• The Middle Passage: From Misery to Meaning in Midlife – A classic on navigating the identity crisis that often comes with life transitions

Other Transformative Reads:

• Aging Well by George Vaillant – Research-based insights into what contributes to flourishing in later life
• A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle – Deep wisdom on finding your authentic self beyond roles and identities
• The Second Mountain by David Brooks – Explores finding deeper purpose and meaning in life’s second half

Each of these books offers a different lens on the beautiful, challenging work of becoming who you’re meant to be. Choose the one that calls to you first—there’s no rush, and no wrong place to start.

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Remember, if you’re struggling with ongoing depression or anxiety during this change, please reach out to a mental health professional. This journey of rediscovering yourself is meant to be challenging, but it shouldn’t feel impossible.

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