No, I Don’t Owe You My “Why”

At 74, I’ve made peace with a lot of things. I no longer apologize for leaving events early. I don’t explain why I didn’t answer the phone. I’ve given up feeling the need to justify why I choose what I choose, go where I go, or say “no” without a paragraph of disclaimers.

It’s not that I’ve become rude. (Although if you call before 8 a.m. or after 8:30 PM, you might think otherwise.) It’s just that somewhere along the road to this stage of life, I realized something simple but liberating: I don’t need to defend my “why” anymore.

I’ve spent a lifetime giving reasons. Explaining myself. Making sure no one misunderstood. I used to put a lot of energy into softening my “no,” cushioning my preferences, or backpedaling my instincts just to keep other people comfortable.

Now? Not so much.

If I want to take the long way home because the road winds past an old place that sparks a memory, I don’t need to explain it.

If I turn down an invitation and say, “Not this time,” it doesn’t mean I owe you a calendar breakdown or a rundown of my fatigue level.

If I decide to try something new—or let something go—I don’t need to crowdsource permission or narrate the internal debate that led me there.

Some people will understand that. Others won’t. And at this point, I’m okay with both.

Because here’s the thing: aging, for all its aches and weird noises, brings a gift I never expected—clarity. I know what matters to me. I know what drains me and what fills me back up. I don’t always know where the path is going, but I trust my own pace. I’ve earned that right.

So, no offense if I don't offer a PowerPoint presentation on my latest decision. I’m not trying to be mysterious. I’m just finally comfortable being me—without a press conference.

Be at peace! wcd