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Just When I Got Used to My 50s, Along Comes 60!

Ten years, a few unexpected detours, and a rather different perspective on life.

I’ve often joked that it takes us about a decade to get used to being in a new decade. When I turned 50, I was still getting accustomed to the idea that my 40s were officially behind me. Now, just as I’ve finally settled comfortably into my 50s, I discover that I’m due for another promotion next year.

To the 60s club!

I wonder if there’s an orientation programme. Or perhaps I should simply turn up and figure things out as I go along, which is more or less how I’ve approached much of my life.

As I celebrate my last birthday in the 50s club, I’ve been reflecting on the decade that was. Not so much on what I’ve achieved, but on what has changed within me. The experiences that challenged my assumptions, the people who came and went, the things I learned to appreciate, and the beliefs I quietly discarded along the way.

Looking back, my 50s were quite an education. And not all the lessons came from a classroom.

It Started in St Petersburg: A Decision I Appreciate Even More Today

I marked my 50th birthday in St Petersburg , Russia. It wasn’t the easiest of my independent trips. There was the special visa to arrange, not to mention my little oversight when booking the domestic flight from Moscow to St Petersburg. I’d underestimated the distance between the airports and hadn’t allowed enough time for the transfer. The ticket was right; my planning, not quite! 😄

A useful reminder that even seasoned travellers shouldn’t take logistics for granted. A little more homework would have saved me some unnecessary hassle.

But was it worth the hassle? Absolutely.

The Hermitage Museum was exceptional. And I treated myself to a ballet performance from a box seat—one of the finest performances I’ve ever experienced, and a memory that remains vivid to this day. At the time, I simply thought I was celebrating a milestone birthday in a city I’d long wanted to experience.

What I couldn’t have anticipated was how much more I would appreciate that decision years later.

With Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022 and the subsequent disruption to international travel, visiting Russia has become considerably more complicated for many travellers. A journey I once took for granted is no longer quite so straightforward.

Looking back, I’m especially thankful I went when I did. It’s a reminder that some decisions only reveal their true value in hindsight. We often postpone experiences, assuming there will always be another opportunity, another year, another more convenient time. But circumstances change. Borders become harder to cross, our health changes, responsibilities grow, and sometimes the window of opportunity simply narrows.

Of course, we can’t do everything at once, nor should we throw caution or financial prudence to the wind. But I’ve become more conscious of the difference between being sensible and perpetually postponing the things that matter to us.

Ten years on, I don’t remember much about what I spent on that trip. I do remember sitting in that box seat, completely absorbed in the ballet. And that, to me, says quite a lot about what makes an experience worth paying for.

The lesson? When something genuinely matters to you, don’t automatically assume you can always do it later.

Perhaps that explains why I continue to enjoy planning my own DIY travel itineraries, particularly to places that require a little more effort. My recent journeys through China are a case in point. What started as an interest in Chinese equities gradually expanded into a fascination with the country’s history, culture, infrastructure, and everyday life. I have learned that there’s a world of difference between reading about a place and experiencing it firsthand. Travel hasn’t necessarily made me agree with everything I encounter, but it has made me more willing to question what I think I know. And that, to me, is one of its greatest rewards.

Midlife Relationships: Prioritising Connection Over History

My 50s also brought a relationship that lasted eight good years.

What made it special wasn’t grand romantic gestures or the need to be constantly together.

It was the ease of being understood.

We got each other without having to work too hard at explaining why we did what we did.

For someone who has always valued independence and the freedom to follow her own curiosity, that kind of understanding is rather precious.

Eventually, we went our separate ways, for good reasons.

I don’t look back on those eight years as a failed relationship simply because it didn’t last forever. Quite the contrary.

It was a meaningful chapter, and I’m grateful for it.

The same decade also saw me walk away from two very good friendships.

That wasn’t something I would have imagined doing when I was younger. Back then, I probably placed greater importance on the length of a friendship and the history we shared.

But people evolve. Our priorities, values and perspectives change.

Sometimes we grow together. Sometimes we grow in different directions.

Interestingly, while some friendships came to an end, two other important relationships found their way back into my life.

One is in the US, the other in Chiang Mai. Both had been affected by misunderstandings and unresolved feelings from earlier chapters of our lives.

Yet somehow, with time and distance, what had once upset us no longer carried the same weight.

We were able to reconnect, clear the air and rediscover the affection and understanding that had been there all along.

Perhaps time really does mellow us. Or perhaps growing older makes us less interested in holding on to grievances that no longer serve any purpose.

Whatever the reason, I’m thankful that these relationships found their way back.

They reminded me that not every relationship that drifts apart is necessarily over. Sometimes people simply need time to grow into a different understanding of one another.

I’ve come to realise that the longevity of a relationship isn’t necessarily the measure of its value, just as a period of distance doesn’t necessarily diminish its significance.

There is a difference between abandoning people when things become inconvenient and recognising when a relationship no longer reflects who we’ve become.

Equally, there’s a difference between revisiting a relationship out of nostalgia and genuinely reconnecting because both parties have evolved.

Neither walking away nor finding our way back is always easy.

But I no longer believe that every meaningful connection must be preserved indefinitely to have been worthwhile, or that every relationship interrupted by misunderstanding is beyond repair.

Perhaps one of the quieter gifts of growing older is learning when to let go, when to forgive and when to leave the door open.

Career Shifts, COVID, and Coming Full Circle: Rediscovering My First Love

Then came COVID. Like everyone else, I had no idea how dramatically it would reshape our lives. For me, it also marked a significant professional turning point. The company where I had spent much of my working life eventually had to be sold. I helped facilitate the sale, and looking back, I felt I had done my part. It was the closing of a very long chapter.

Initially, I tried exploring different industries, thinking I needed a complete change of pace. But I quickly realised that media remained my first love. My decades spent navigating business development, sales, and management were certainly stressful at times, but I had so much fun that it rarely felt like actual work.

It wasn’t about needing a professional title to feel relevant. It was simply a desire to keep building.

Around that same time, I had started tinkering with early AI tools. As I figured out how much easier technology had made digital creation, a thought struck me: Why not start a blog now? It was the perfect opportunity to do what I love most—creating something entirely new, highly relevant to my life today, that I could finally call my own.

And just like that, Ageisano was born. I discovered that stepping away from a familiar corporate role didn’t mean leaving my passions behind. My years in the media weren’t just a closed chapter; they were the ultimate prep work for redirecting my toolkit and building something on my own terms.

Back to School: The Joy of Lifelong Learning After 50

One of the most rewarding surprises of my 50s has been rediscovering the sheer pleasure of learning. Two heavily subsidised, six-month online programmes through Singapore’s skills initiatives made a particularly lasting impression: the RISE digital marketing programme (associated with Boston Consulting Group) and the Dalio Market Principles programme (via the Wealth Management Institute).

RISE gave me a front-row seat to how digitisation completely upended my old media stomping grounds, perfectly prepping me for the current AI upheaval. Meanwhile, the Dalio programme demystified wealth management, handing me a solid framework for understanding economic cycles, risk, and asset classes. (Though, as we all know, understanding a framework and successfully applying it to a modest retail portfolio are entirely different lessons).

All this structured curiosity, combined with a healthy dose of head-scratching over emerging AI tools, eventually birthed Ageisano—my little corner of the internet dedicated to active aging. Who would have imagined I’d become a blogger in my mid-50s? Certainly not the younger me, whose entire academic strategy was built around securing a solid pass, treating an ‘A’ as a welcome but entirely accidental bonus. 😉

Rote learning never inspired me. Today’s educational shift towards exploring, questioning, and connecting ideas suits my brain far better. One question leads to another, and suddenly I have twelve browser tabs open and a new blog post drafting itself. I don’t need to be permanently enrolled in anything, but I love following my curiosity and occasionally going back to school to dig deeper. Perhaps the enthusiasm for learning was always there; it just needed a different kind of classroom.

Intentional Spending: When Every Dollar Has to Earn Its Keep

Another interesting shift during my 50s has been my relationship with money. Life feels rather different when there isn’t a paycheck landing in your bank account every month.

During my corporate years, I was certainly more liberal with my spending. I enjoyed shopping and wasn’t always particularly discerning about whether I really needed something. These days, I think twice. Not because I’ve suddenly become a miser, but because I’ve become more conscious of what my money is actually buying me.

I’ve largely lost interest in accumulating frivolous things. When I do spend, I want it to matter. Travel remains high on my list. The experiences, discoveries, and perspectives I gain from exploring unfamiliar places are worth far more to me than another handbag or pair of shoes. Health is another priority. I’m more willing to invest in good food, nutritious ingredients, and preventive care. My grocery basket may not always be the cheapest, but I’d rather spend on what nourishes me than on things that eventually gather dust in a cupboard.

Then there’s dental care. Let’s just say I’m now making up for some of the neglect of my younger years! After all, we’re supposed to have 28 teeth, excluding wisdom teeth, and I’d quite like to keep mine functioning for as long as possible. How else am I going to enjoy all those wonderful meals on my travels?

Jokes aside, I’ve come to appreciate how oral health affects our ability to chew comfortably, eat a varied diet, and maintain our quality of life as we age.

It’s funny how our spending priorities evolve. In my younger days, I might have happily splurged on something that made me look good. Today, I’m more inclined to spend on something that helps me feel good, function well, and continue doing what I love. Being financially mindful doesn’t mean depriving ourselves. It means knowing what brings genuine value to our lives. Perhaps the real luxury of growing older is not having more things, but needing fewer things to feel fulfilled.

Caregiving and Meaningful Conversations: Making Peace Before Goodbye

One of the most significant experiences of my 50s was being my father’s caregiver during the final chapter of his life . But the story really began much earlier.

My father had his first brush with death while in Shanghai. That experience was a wake-up call for me, and I made a conscious decision to spend more time with him. As it turned out, he went on to live another good 18 years. During those years, we celebrated birthdays, Chinese New Years, and other family occasions together. I’m grateful for all those memories.

But looking back, what I treasure most aren’t necessarily the celebrations. It’s the conversations.

We talked about life, his experiences, the things he valued, and what mattered to him. At some point, perhaps a couple of years before his health began to deteriorate, I also started recording personal video messages from him for his best friend, my mother, my brother, and myself. I knew that the day would eventually come. It wasn’t a morbid exercise, nor was I expecting the worst. I simply wanted to preserve his thoughts and words while he was still able to express them.

There’s something irreplaceable about hearing a loved one’s voice, especially when they’re sharing something deeply personal.

When his health eventually declined, I became closely involved in overseeing his care. It was stressful, sometimes exhausting, and certainly not something my professional life had prepared me for. Yet it remains one of the experiences I value most. My brother and I were able to make peace with his eventual passing. We had spent meaningful time with him, understood his wishes, and done what we could to honour them. When the day finally came, there was sadness, of course. But there was also acceptance. We didn’t have to scramble to say everything that had been left unsaid.

Through that final journey, I also gained a very different appreciation of Singapore’s healthcare and community care ecosystem. I witnessed firsthand how healthcare professionals, hospice teams, and support services worked together to help my father spend his final days at home, as he wished, with dignity. The experience changed my perspective on aging, caregiving, and the importance of planning ahead.

It also influenced one of the biggest decisions of my decade: to return to Singapore permanently. That eventually led me to apply for a BTO flat at Berlayer Residence , which I was fortunate to secure. My new home should be ready in about four years.

If there’s one thing I’d encourage others to do, it’s to have those meaningful conversations while there’s still time. Ask your parents about their lives, their regrets, their happiest memories, their values, and what they’d like you to know. Record their stories if they’re comfortable with it. Don’t wait for a medical crisis to begin talking about end-of-life wishes. And perhaps most importantly, don’t assume that celebrating the big occasions together is a substitute for truly knowing one another.

Sometimes the most precious memories aren’t made around a festive table. They’re made in the quiet moments when someone opens up and we take the time to listen.

From Taking Health for Granted to Taking Ownership of My Healthspan

Another major shift during my 50s was how I approached my health. I had always been reasonably active, but being active and being intentional about health are not quite the same thing.

Participating in the Health for Life programme opened my eyes to aspects of my health that I hadn’t previously paid much attention to. That led me to explore Singapore’s preventive health initiatives and eventually sign up for personal coaching. I was also becoming increasingly interested in Traditional Chinese Medicine. I began paying more attention to how food and daily habits made me feel, incorporating more warm teas and homemade broths into my routine. Exploring a different health tradition has encouraged me to be more observant and deliberate about my habits.

Then there was my trip to Yen Tu in Vietnam . What began as a retreat became a catalyst for incorporating chanting and meditation into my daily life. Today, my mornings usually begin with resistance training, followed by chanting or meditation. It’s a simple routine, but one that has become an important anchor in my day. No elaborate wellness ritual, no need for an expensive retreat every morning. Just a little time devoted to looking after the body and quietening the mind.

I’ve also become more interested in understanding the science behind aging, from muscle health and sleep to nutrition and preventive care. Which, of course, gives me plenty of material to investigate and occasionally experiment with for Ageisano.

The difference between my younger self and my current self? I used to think of health largely in terms of how I looked and felt. Now I think more about what I want my body and mind to allow me to do ten, twenty, or even thirty years from now. I’m less interested in adding years to my life than in making those additional years worth living.

The Art of Letting Go in Our 50s

If I had to identify one underlying theme running through my 50s, it would be learning to let go.

Not in the dramatic sense of abandoning everything and moving to a mountain retreat. I still enjoy a good meal, a beautiful hotel, interesting company, and the occasional indulgence! But I’ve become more selective. I no longer feel the same need to preserve every relationship, pursue every professional opportunity, or justify every unconventional decision.

I’m learning to appreciate experiences without needing to possess them indefinitely. A good relationship can end and still have been good. A rewarding career can conclude without diminishing what it meant. A place we’ve called home for decades can remain precious even when we decide it’s time to leave. And changing our minds doesn’t necessarily mean we were wrong before. It may simply mean we’ve grown.

Perhaps this is what becoming older has given me: not absolute certainty, but greater comfort with uncertainty. I don’t need every chapter of my life to have a perfect ending. Sometimes it’s enough that it was worth experiencing.

Note to My 50-Year-Old Self (And Looking Forward to 60)

Looking back on this decade, there are a few things I’d happily share with the woman who celebrated her 50th birthday in St Petersburg.

• Don’t become too attached to your plans. Life will rewrite parts of them anyway. Sometimes the revised version turns out better.
• Invest in learning, especially when you think you know enough. The world doesn’t stop evolving because we’ve accumulated decades of experience.
• Look after your health before it demands your attention. Small, sustainable habits may not be particularly exciting, but they can make a meaningful difference over time.
• Value people without assuming every relationship must last forever. Gratitude and letting go can coexist.
• Stay open to unfamiliar perspectives. Travel, conversations, and new experiences are useful reminders that our worldview is never complete.
• Don’t postpone living until everything is perfectly in place. There will always be another responsibility, another uncertainty, another reason to wait.

Perhaps the most important lesson is that we don’t have to remain loyal to an earlier version of ourselves.

As I approach my final year in the 50s club, I don’t feel a burning need to reinvent myself for the next decade. In many ways, I feel more comfortable being who I am than I did ten years ago. I know better what matters to me, what I enjoy, what I’m willing to compromise on, and what I would rather leave alone.

But I hope I never become so comfortable that I stop questioning, exploring, or trying something new. There are still places I want to visit, ideas I want to investigate, people I hope to meet, and probably a few more mistakes waiting to be made. And that’s perfectly fine.

If my 50s have taught me anything, it’s that a fulfilling life isn’t necessarily one in which everything goes according to plan. It’s one in which we remain willing to participate, adapt, and grow. So here’s to my final year in the 50s club. I may have taken almost ten years to get used to this decade, but at least I’m leaving it with a few good stories.

As for my 60s? I suspect they’ll take some getting used to as well. And I rather look forward to finding out.

A gentle note of gratitude before I wrap up: thank you to each of you tuning in from across the world. We may be a small and cozy community here on Ageisano, but the challenges and joys of active aging are universal. Knowing that these reflections resonate across borders reminds me that while the years keep ticking, none of us has to navigate the next chapter alone.

What about you? Looking back on the last decade of your life, what changed you most — and what have you learned to let go of?