A man commented on my recent post - the one about older men fearing death and insignificance - and he wrote:
“I just turned 59. If you met me, you'd think I could rule the world.
I was a fighter pilot, a warrior, that kind of guy.
But inside, my confidence is starting to dissipate.
It sucks.”
I understand this. I’m turning 59 myself. And I know this territory from the inside - not just from my work.
There comes a moment in life when the identity that once carried us - the confidence built on performance, mastery, and control - no longer holds in the same way.
And it can feel like collapse.
Like weakness.
Like “losing your edge.”
But here’s the deeper truth - both neuroscience and contemplative insight agree:
This is 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞.
This is a 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐲.
Interestingly, neuroscience shows that as we age, another form of intelligence becomes available - not the fast, striving, problem-solving mind of the first half of life, but a more integrative, contextual, pattern-seeing wisdom. A quieter, deeper clarity.
It can only emerge once the old armor begins to soften.
𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲:
As the identity built on achievement loosens, we may discover that our value never depended on performance in the first place. I’ve found that when this realization begins to take root, the fear of “not being enough” or “not leaving a mark” becomes less sharp.
Something steadier begins to hold us from within.
The first part of adult life requires a performance-based self:
- Achieve
- Prove
- Control
- Push
- Stand out
This builds competency and direction.
It is necessary - and it works.
Until it doesn’t.
Because at a certain point, the nervous system begins to reject the identity built on effort and self-assertion. Not because it failed - but because it has completed its job.
Then another kind of strength is called for:
- Presence instead of performance
- Influence instead of dominance
- Listening instead of control
Being instead of proving
This is what happens when 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞.
The ego senses its limits - and fear surfaces.
Not the fear of death.
The fear of identity loss.
The irony is this:
What feels like losing ground
is actually entering deeper ground.
Not the strength that conquers.
The strength that includes.
The strength that no longer needs armor.
So the real question is not:
“How do I get my old confidence back?”
but:
𝐀𝐦 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐈 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞?
Because that is where maturity begins.
And if you are in this transition -
confused, unsettled, questioning who you are without the old armor:
This is not a breakdown.
It is an initiation.