Dr. Leahcim Semaj
Psychologist | Author | Social Philosopher
The Semaj MindSpa — Where Mind, Spirit, and Science Meet
One of the unexpected gifts of growing older may be psychological freedom.
I turned 75 on August 17. Three quarters of a century. When you say it that way, it sounds like a very long time. And it is. Long enough to have been right about some things, spectacularly wrong about others, to have loved and lost, succeeded and failed, changed my mind, disappointed people, been disappointed by people – and lived long enough to discover that some of the things I once considered terribly important really weren’t. That’s one of the advantages of age, I suppose. You begin to separate what matters from what merely makes noise.
Age itself doesn’t necessarily make us wise. I have met people who appear to have spent 70 years becoming more deeply committed to the same foolishness. Experience only becomes wisdom, I think, when we stop long enough to examine it.
At 75, I still care deeply about many things. I care about my family, my work and my country. I care about health, friendship, love, intimacy, purpose, ideas, good music, good conversation and the quality of the years ahead of me. I care about whether my presence on this earth is still useful. But some things? Not so much anymore. Maybe this is what psychological freedom begins to look like.
I now truly understand the Law of Least Effort, do less and achieve more. I’ve also developed a simple rule. If I can’t find a good reason for doing something my default is to do nothing.
1. Other People’s Approval
I would like to tell you that I have never cared what people thought about me. That would be a lie. Most of us care, especially when we are younger. We want our parents to approve of us, our colleagues to respect us, our friends to include us and sometimes complete strangers to admire us. The problem is that approval is a moving target. The same person who praises you on Monday may criticize you by Friday. Do something unconventional and suddenly people who were perfectly comfortable with the old you become concerned about the new one.
Eventually I had to ask myself: How much of my life am I prepared to surrender in exchange for somebody else’s approval? Not much before, but even less now. There is a price attached to constantly seeking acceptance. Little by little, you can begin editing yourself to make other people comfortable. At 75, I’d rather risk being disliked for being myself than spend my remaining years auditioning for approval.
2. Impressing People
There was a stage of life when the symbols mattered. Qualifications. Titles. Cars. Houses. Who knows you. Where you’re invited. What appears after your name. Some of those things are useful. I worked hard for my qualifications and I’m proud of them. So this isn’t an argument for pretending achievement doesn’t matter.
But achievement and fulfilment are not twins. I’ve known people with impressive résumés and miserable lives. People with beautiful houses who dreaded going home. People who appeared successful in every photograph but couldn’t sleep at night. At this age, different things impress me.
A peaceful home impresses me. A body that still allows you to get up and move. A relationship in which two people actually enjoy each other’s company. A person who can sit quietly without desperately needing an audience. Peace impresses me much more than performance these days.
3. Winning Every Argument
Now, anybody who knows me knows I enjoy ideas. And I still enjoy a good argument. At 75, I have certainly not run out of opinions. What has changed is my need to win. There was probably a time when I would continue explaining my position long after it was obvious that neither of us was going anywhere. Another example. Another argument. Another piece of evidence. These days I am more likely to ask myself: Leahcim, what exactly are you trying to accomplish here?
Because you can win the argument and damage the relationship. You can prove that you are right and ruin your afternoon. Worse, you can spend 45 minutes arguing with somebody who had absolutely no intention of considering another point of view in the first place. Sometimes I still engage. Sometimes I smile and let it go. Learning the difference has probably saved me several thousand unnecessary conversations.
4. Being Misunderstood
This one may be harder than it sounds. Most of us want to be understood. When somebody gets us wrong, the instinct is to rush in and correct the record. “No, no. That’s not what I meant.” “Let me explain what actually happened.”
Sometimes you should. If the misunderstanding affects your reputation, your work, someone you love or something genuinely important, silence isn’t always wisdom. But every misunderstanding does not deserve a response. I have learned that some people misunderstand you because they don’t have enough information. Others misunderstand you because they have already decided who you are.
The second group is much harder to help. You could spend the afternoon presenting evidence and they would simply incorporate your explanation into the story they already believe. At some point, you have to leave people alone with their version of you. You cannot spend your life trying to edit yourself inside other people’s heads.
5. Keeping Relationships Whose Season Has Ended
This may be one of the more painful lessons. Not every relationship is meant to accompany us all the way. Some people enter our lives for decades. Others arrive for a particular season. A few may have been exactly what we needed at 25 but are no longer who we need beside us at 65 or 75.
That doesn’t make either person bad. People change. Circumstances change. Values change. Yet we often hold on because of history. “We’ve been friends for 40 years.” Fair enough. But what have the last five years been like? A long history does not automatically make a healthy present.
I have become more willing to accept that some relationships have completed their work in my life. No quarrel. No grand announcement. No need to turn the other person into a villain. Sometimes you simply acknowledge what was good, accept what has changed and continue walking.
6. Being Invited Everywhere
Remember when not being invited somewhere felt like a personal insult? They had a party and didn’t invite me? Everybody was there! At 75, I have discovered that not being invited can be a blessing. Every invitation comes with an invisible price tag: your time. And time looks different from this end of life.
There are people I genuinely want to see and places I am happy to go. I still enjoy good company, music, laughter and a lively conversation. But I don’t need to be everywhere. And I certainly don’t need to be seen everywhere. Some people have even interpreted this to mean that I don’t live in Jamaica anymore.
Sometimes the best Saturday night is good music, good company, something pleasant to eat or drink, and nowhere else you need to be…just at my favourite place, home.
7. Living According to Other People’s Timetable
Society has a timetable for us. By this age you should have achieved this. By that age you should own that. Then you should retire. Slow down. Dress appropriately. Act your age. I’ve never been completely sure what “act your age” means. What exactly should 75 look like?
Am I too old to begin something new? Learn something? Change direction? Travel somewhere unfamiliar? Make a new friend? Have another big idea? Who decided? One of the things I increasingly resist is allowing the calendar to become a psychological prison.
Yes, my body is 75. I respect that reality. Pretending to be 35 would be foolish. But respecting age and surrendering to age are not the same thing. The calendar tells me how long I have lived. It doesn’t tell me how alive I am allowed to be.
8. Pretending to Like Things I Don’t Like
One of the small pleasures of getting older is becoming comfortable saying: “No thanks. That’s not for me.” No elaborate explanation. I don’t have to go somewhere simply because everyone else is going. I don’t have to pretend to enjoy somebody’s company when every encounter leaves me exhausted. I don’t have to sit through conversations that stopped being interesting 30 minutes ago simply because leaving might look impolite.
Of course, there is a danger here. “I’m just being honest” can become an excuse for selfishness or bad manners. Age doesn’t give us permission to become inconsiderate. But there is a middle ground between rudeness and pretending. I’m increasingly comfortable living there. Life is too short. At 75, that phrase has stopped being a cliché and started looking like arithmetic.
9. Comparing My Life With Somebody Else’s
Comparison is a peculiar habit. No matter how well you are doing, you can always find somebody who appears to be doing better. More money. Better health. Bigger house. Larger audience. More recognition. More travel. More whatever you have decided to measure this week. Social media has turned this into an Olympic sport.
The problem is that we are usually comparing incomplete information. We see the holiday photographs, not the argument in the hotel room. We see the award, not the anxiety. We see the smiling anniversary photograph and know nothing about what happens after the camera is put away. At 75, I find myself much less interested in whether I’m ahead of somebody else.
The more useful question is: Am I becoming more fully myself? That’s enough competition for me.
10. Trying to Control What I Cannot Control
This may be the big one. When we are younger, we can easily develop the illusion that if we are smart enough, work hard enough and plan carefully enough, we can control the outcomes. Then life starts teaching the advanced course. People you love make choices you wouldn’t make. Plans fall apart. Bodies change. Friends leave. Opportunities disappear. Something you desperately wanted doesn’t happen – and something you never planned for changes your life.
I’ve come to appreciate the difference between control and influence. I can influence quite a lot. I can look after my health. I can nurture my relationships. I can manage my money. I can continue learning. I can choose how I spend much of my time. But control? Far less than I once imagined. Perhaps psychological freedom comes partly from knowing the difference.
Do what you can. Prepare where you can. Fight for what matters. Then develop enough emotional flexibility to live with the parts of life that refuse to take instructions from you.
Caring Less – or Caring Better?
When I say there are things I no longer care about, I’m not advocating indifference. Quite the opposite. I think I care more deeply now. But for and about fewer things. I am simply becoming more selective about where I spend my care.
Approval, impressing people, pointless arguments, misconceptions, relationships kept alive only by history, social inclusion, somebody else’s timetable, pretending, comparison and the fantasy of controlling everything – each takes energy. And psychological energy is not unlimited. Neither is time.
Perhaps one of the privileges of reaching 75 is finally realizing that you don’t have to carry everything you accumulated along the way. Some of that baggage belonged to the 30-year-old you. Some to the 45-year-old you. Some you picked up because somebody told you a respectable person was supposed to carry it. You can put some of it down now. I have. And I suspect I still have a few more bags to drop.
The Anchor Leg of Life, as I have come to think about it, isn’t simply about accumulating more experiences, more possessions or more achievements. Perhaps it is also about subtraction. Knowing what matters. Knowing who matters. Knowing what deserves another hour of your life – and what doesn’t.
Walking a little lighter. For me, that is increasingly what psychological freedom looks like. And at 75, I am still learning how to practise it.
The Best is Yet to Come.
Dr. Leahcim Semaj
Transformational Psychologist
Semaj MindSpa
Oh yes indeed!
All good points!
Simone