Version 7.2

Today I celebrate my 72nd birthday. I have to admit, I kind of like saying that out loud. Not because I'm particularly excited about the number itself, but because I've stopped measuring my life by numbers. Somewhere along the way, birthdays stopped being about getting older and started being about becoming more myself.

Last year, it occurred to me that every August I get a software update. I have no idea where that thought came from but it made me laugh. But the more I sat with it, the more it made sense.

So, this year I'm running Version 7.2.

Every year I remove a few things that aren't serving me anymore, learn a few new lessons, and hopefully become a little wiser. It's less like buying a new computer and more like quietly improving the one I've had all along.

If I'm honest, Version 7.2 is someone I like spending time with. She isn't perfect. There are still glitches. She occasionally overthinks things, takes on too much, and has been known to lose her keys while they're sitting in her hand. But she's learned a few things that Version 3.0 could never have imagined.

She knows that "no" is a complete sentence. She knows that not everyone has to understand her choices. She knows that confidence isn't something you wake up with one morning. It's built every time you honour yourself instead of abandoning yourself. Perhaps most importantly, she has finally stopped believing she has to earn the right to be exactly who she is.

That's a lesson that took me a while.

When I was younger, I thought growing older was something you simply accepted. You tried to make peace with it, joked about it, coloured your hair if you wanted to, and carried on.

Now I see it differently. I think growing older is actually an invitation. An invitation to stop performing. To stop trying so hard. To stop asking everyone else who they think you should be.

Instead, you begin asking a much better question:

Who have I become?

That question has been quietly changing my work over the past few years. People often think I talk about clothes.

I do.

But if you've been reading my work for any length of time, you already know the conversation has never really been about clothes. Fashion was simply the doorway. The real conversation has always been about identity, confidence, visibility, and learning to trust yourself again.

It's about creating a life that fits.

Lately I've been searching for a way to describe this season of life that so many women are entering. "Midlife" has never felt quite right to me. Neither has "aging gracefully." Both seem to focus on what we're leaving behind. 

But what if this chapter isn't defined by what we've lost? What if it's defined by what we've gained?

Experience.

Perspective.

Resilience.

Compassion.

Discernment.

Wisdom.

That's when it hit me.

This is our Wisdom Era.

Not because we've reached a particular birthday, but because we've lived enough life to know what really matters.

We've had our hearts broken. We've celebrated impossible joys. We've raised children, buried parents, changed careers, reinvented ourselves more than once, and somehow kept going.

Why would we apologize for the very experiences that made us who we are?

I don't want to spend this season wishing I were younger. I want to spend it becoming wiser.

Those are two very different goals.

So yes, this birthday feels different.

But you know wisdom is interesting. As an older person I know that wisdom doesn't come from having a lot of experiences. It comes from reflecting on them and understanding what they are. And that's why at a certain point in life it's so important to really think about your life. You can't know where you are going unless you know where you've been. 

I'm grateful for every lesson that brought me here, even the ones I wouldn't have chosen at the time. I'm grateful that I care a little less about fitting in and a lot more about living in alignment with my values.

I'm grateful that I've finally learned style isn't self-indulgent. It's self-honouring. And I'm grateful that I still feel like I'm becoming.

Because that's the best part, isn't it? There isn't a final version of us.

Next August, if I'm fortunate enough to celebrate another birthday, perhaps I'll be Version 7.3. I hope she'll be a little kinder, a little braver, and a little more curious than I am today. For now, though, I'm quite happy being Version 7.2.

Welcome to my Wisdom Era.

I have a feeling it's going to be the best chapter yet.