I’m 70. I Avoid People Now. Here’s Why…
It’s not what you might think. I didn’t wake up one day and decide to shut the world out. I’ve always cherished the people in my life – the laughter, the conversations, the memories we’ve shared. But something shifted as the years passed. I found myself craving a different kind of peace, one not measured by the company I kept but by the quiet moments I could finally call my own.
If you’re reading this, perhaps you’ve felt it too. The tug of solitude. The yearning to step back, to protect your energy from the noise that no longer feels necessary. Let me tell you this: it’s okay. There’s wisdom in recognizing the seasons of our lives. Sometimes, the best company we can keep is ourselves. But don’t mistake this for loneliness. What I’ve discovered is a richness in aloneness – a space to breathe, think, and reconnect with what truly matters.
Today, I want to share why I’ve embraced this chapter of my life and the lessons it’s brought me. Before we dive deeper, take a moment to join me on this journey. If this resonates with you, like and subscribe to our channel. Together, we’re exploring truths that often go unsaid but need to be shared.
There’s something liberating about being honest with yourself. For much of my life, I was a people-pleaser. I thrived on connection, validation, and the comfort of being surrounded by others. It was energizing, fulfilling even, to be part of a community. But as the years went by, I realized something that no one ever told me: not every connection feeds your soul. Some relationships drain it.
You might know what I mean. It’s the feeling of being in a room full of people yet still feeling invisible. The exhaustion of conversations that skim the surface but never quite reach the depth you yearn for. Or the discomfort of being around those who see only your age and not the vibrant spirit that still lives within you.
I began asking myself, “Who am I spending my time with? Do they bring joy, understanding, or kindness into my life? Or am I holding on to relationships out of habit, guilt, or fear of change?” These questions were hard, but they were necessary. Stepping back doesn’t mean cutting people off or becoming isolated. It means choosing how you spend your energy. For me, that has meant prioritizing relationships that feel reciprocal – those that bring mutual respect and genuine care. But it also means creating space for myself.
I’ve learned to cherish mornings spent with a cup of tea, journaling, or reading without the pressure of plans. I take long walks, not for exercise, but for the sheer joy of watching the world move around me. These moments aren’t lonely – they’re sacred.
So why do we feel guilty for stepping back? Society tells us that to be alone is to be sad, that to withdraw is to give up. But isn’t it possible that solitude is just another form of self-care? After all, how can we truly show up for others if we’re constantly depleted? This realization has been transformative. It’s helped me embrace a truth I wish I had known earlier: it’s not selfish to protect your peace. It’s necessary.
Let’s pause for a moment. Have you ever felt guilty for needing space? What would it look like to let go of that guilt? Share your thoughts in the comments. I’d love to hear your perspective. Let’s spark a conversation about this together.
In my journey toward understanding why solitude feels so natural at this stage of life, I’ve uncovered something deeper. It’s not just about avoiding draining relationships or carving out peaceful moments for myself. It’s about recognizing the profound shifts that come with age. When you’ve lived as long as we have, you’ve likely experienced your share of disappointments, betrayals, and misunderstandings. You’ve learned that not everyone will treat your heart with the tenderness it deserves.
While forgiveness is important, so is the ability to set boundaries. For years, I allowed my fear of being misunderstood to keep me in situations that didn’t serve me. I tolerated unkind words, dismissive attitudes, and relationships where I felt more like an obligation than a cherished presence. But with time, I’ve realized that every “no” I give to others is a “yes” I give to myself. That doesn’t mean I’ve stopped loving people. Far from it. It means I love myself enough to choose relationships where love flows freely, where I can give and receive without hesitation or resentment. I’ve stopped seeking validation from people who aren’t capable of giving it.
This shift in perspective has led me to redefine what connection means. I’ve discovered that I don’t need a large social circle to feel fulfilled. A few meaningful relationships, built on trust and mutual respect, are more than enough. One of the most surprising lessons I’ve learned is that true connection doesn’t always come from the people you’ve known the longest. Sometimes, it’s the stranger who smiles at you in the park, the neighbor who waves every morning, or the younger person who asks for advice and actually listens.
But perhaps the most important connection I’ve cultivated is the one with myself. I’ve spent decades taking care of others – my children, my spouse, my friends, and even my co-workers. It’s only now, in my 70s, that I’ve given myself permission to take care of me. This isn’t selfish – it’s revolutionary.
How often do we, as elders – especially those of us who’ve been caregivers – prioritize ourselves? We’re conditioned to believe that our value lies in what we can do for others. But I’ve come to see that my worth isn’t tied to my productivity or my relationships. It simply is. And this is where solitude becomes transformative. In the quiet, I’ve had time to reflect on who I am – not just who I’ve been to others, but who I’ve always been at my core. I’ve rediscovered passions I’d forgotten about, like painting and writing. I’ve reconnected with my faith and my sense of wonder at the world. Most importantly, I’ve learned to sit with my thoughts without judgment.
As I share this, I wonder – how often do you take time just for yourself, not out of necessity, but because you deserve it? Tell me in the comments – what’s one thing you’ve done recently just for you?
Finding joy in solitude doesn’t mean turning away from the world. It means engaging with it on your own terms. That’s the beauty of this stage of life – the freedom to choose where to invest your energy and what truly deserves your time.
When I stepped back from the constant buzz of socializing, I began to see life more clearly. The colors of the sunset seemed more vibrant. The sound of the birds felt like a private symphony just for me. Even the simple act of sitting in my garden with a cup of tea became a cherished ritual. These aren’t small things – they’re the moments that remind us we’re alive.
And yet, for so much of our lives, we’re told to seek fulfillment outside ourselves. We’re encouraged to chase achievements, relationships, and material goods as though they’re the only markers of a life well-lived. But when you reach a certain age, you realize that the most valuable things aren’t things at all. They’re experiences, feelings, and the quiet assurance that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.
I’ve also discovered that avoiding people doesn’t mean rejecting connection. It means being intentional about it. I still love seeing my grandchildren, catching up with close friends, and sharing laughs with neighbors. But I no longer feel the need to be everything to everyone.
For instance, I used to say yes to every invitation, even when I was tired or uninterested. I worried about disappointing others or being left out. Now, I trust that the people who truly care about me will understand when I need time to recharge. And I’ve found that when I do spend time with them, the connection feels richer because it comes from a place of genuine desire, not obligation.
This intentionality has extended to how I interact with the world. Social media, for example, used to feel overwhelming – a constant stream of opinions, arguments, and highlights of other people’s lives. I’ve since learned to use it sparingly, focusing on content that uplifts me rather than drains me. The same goes for conversations. I used to feel compelled to engage in small talk, even when it felt superficial. Now, I seek out meaningful discussions that leave me feeling inspired or understood. If a conversation doesn’t serve that purpose, I’m comfortable excusing myself.
And let’s talk about boundaries. Setting them isn’t just about saying no. It’s about saying yes to yourself. It’s about recognizing your limits and honoring them, even if others don’t always understand. For me, this has meant limiting interactions with people who bring negativity or drama into my life. At first, this was difficult. I worried about being perceived as cold or unkind. But over time, I’ve seen that setting boundaries isn’t about pushing people away. It’s about making room for what truly matters.
If there’s one thing I’d like you to take away from this, it’s that choosing solitude is an act of courage. It’s a declaration that your time, energy, and peace are valuable. It’s a reminder that you deserve a life filled with joy, even if it looks different from what society expects.
As we wrap up, I want to encourage you to reflect on your own life. What relationships bring you joy, and which ones feel like obligations? What activities replenish your spirit, and which ones drain it? Share your thoughts in the comments below. I’d love to hear from you.
If you found this video meaningful, give it a thumbs up, share it with someone who might need to hear this message, and subscribe to our channel. Together, we can create a space where honesty matters and where solitude is embraced for the gift that it is.
