What’s Old, What’s New: Turning 60 and Asking Questions

Author: Gillian Maddigan

May 2025

Sixty, A card and a Shift

I’ve just turned 60. A couple of weeks in, and it already feels different—quietly, but unmistakably. I’m not in my 50s anymore. I’ve stepped into something new, and I’m starting to think of this as my third life. Not in a dramatic way—just in the sense that things are shifting, and I am to paying attention.

The moment that really stopped me was a birthday card from my aunt. It was one of those classic 60th birthday cards: white background, soft flowers, sentimental verse. The kind of card I would’ve bought her 20 years ago when she turned 60—and to me, at the time, she seemed old, by the way she has aged little since.

Now here I am, getting that same kind of card. And it hit me: is this how people see me now? Is this how I see myself?

So What Is 60?

I’ve been sitting with the question: Am I a young 60? An old 60? What does 60 actually mean? It’s not a number I fear, but it’s not one I completely understand yet either.

This feels like a new phase—not an ending, but a new context. I’m different physically, mentally, emotionally. I’m no longer in my pre menopausal 40s or even ‘f you world’angry 50s. But I’m not falling apart either. I’m curious, and I want to explore what this age really is, for me—not what I thought it would be.

The Void Before the Shift

Interestingly, since November—until just before my birthday—I found myself in what I can only describe as a null space. I’d come back from Europe on a high, full of energy, then caught COVID the next day it manifested in my body with vengence. It knocked the wind out of me, in a deeper way than expected.

Last time I had COVID, it uncovered hereditary hypertension. This time, it dropped me into something else—a void. Or was it “avoid”? Not sure which. Could be both. A pull away from everything, or just into nothing.

From November to late April, I lived in that zone. My world shrank. Not suddenly, but gradually, and I didn’t notice at first. Then I realised—I wasn’t really feeling anything. Not joy, not sadness. Just flat. I was in it, but not quite of it.

About a month before my birthday, I decided something needed to shift. I started oestrogen patches—not the heavy-dose ones I remembered from egg donation years ago, just enough to get my brain back online, to feel something again, to wake up my sex drive, my desire, my connection to life.

And it worked. Slowly, subtly, the lights started coming back on. The timing was exact—end of April, edging towards my birthday. That shift, finally, felt pleasurable. Real. Thank God.

60 Days vs 60 Experiences

Someone suggested I celebrate with 60 days of something. That sounded exhausting. So I came up with a version that actually makes sense for how I live: 60 experiences over a year. That feels right. A way to mark this time without overloading it.

Not every experience needs to be big. Some will push me physically, some emotionally. Some will be light, others more reflective. But each may help me get to know this new version of myself better.

Making Space

I’m realising that every time I take something new on, something old has to go to create space and a vacuum. 

Some beliefs, assumptions, habits have atrophied or run their course. I don’t need to carry them into this next part of my life.

So I’m looking at that too. What needs to stay? What can I let go of? It’s not about reinvention, really. It’s more about editing—getting closer to what’s true for now.

The Real Questions

So here I am. Sixty. Not trying to deny it or define it too tightly. Just trying to explore and maybe understand what it is for me.

What do I want more of? What do I want less of? What still fits, and what doesn’t?

That six-month lull before my birthday—that blank space—turned out to be a kind of reset. And now, this feels like another beginning. The journey starts: what is it like to be 60?

I don’t have the answers. But I’m here to find out.

With Grace

Gillian