By Ross Grossman, LMFT

We all know about the mid-life crisis. That’s when a 48-year-old buys a convertible, grows a soul patch, and suddenly believes he’s “always wanted to learn bass guitar.” His friends are too polite to say, “Gary, you’ve wanted cholesterol meds, not a band.”

But the mid-life crisis has a sequel. Nobody talks about it because it’s not as Instagram-friendly. It’s called the late-life crisis, and it shows up in your 60s, 70s, or 80s—usually right after you’ve retired, buried some friends, and realized your idea of “travel” is now deciding whether to walk to the pharmacy or just beg them to deliver.

What It Looks Like

Late-life crisis isn’t about proving you’re still sexy. It’s about wondering if you’re still relevant.

• Retirement: A guy I worked with retired from a 40-year law career. Day one: golf. Day two: golf. Day three: he’s screaming at his Alexa because she “refuses to recognize his authority.” He didn’t need a financial advisor—he needed a therapist and maybe a punching bag.
• Health scares: One woman told me her hips were “so bad they sound like bubble wrap.” She laughed while saying it, which was good—because her husband was googling stair lifts on his phone during the session.
• Loss & grief: A widower came in and said, “I feel invisible.” His son corrected him: “Dad, you’re not invisible. You’re just on Facebook.”

The Numbers

About 1 in 4 older adults experience late-life crisis. Around 20% wrestle with depression or anxiety. And almost 100% wonder why the hell their doctor is younger than their shoes.

But here’s the bright side: research shows a lot of people come out of this stage more content than they were before. Think of it like cleaning out a garage: painful at first, but freeing once you realize you don’t actually need four broken printers and a bowling trophy from 1978.

The Wrong “Cures”

People try all kinds of bad strategies to dodge late-life crisis:

• Buying a Harley at 72. (Your kids don’t see you as cool—they see you as an organ donor in training.)
• Starting a TikTok. (Your dance moves won’t go viral; your hip replacement will.)
• Dating someone half your age. (If they call you “cute,” it’s not about your face. It’s about your life insurance policy.)

The Better Way Through

Here’s what actually works:

1. Purpose – I knew a retired engineer who started volunteering at a middle school science fair. He was thrilled—until a seventh-grader called him “Grandpa Einstein” and asked if he “invented paper.” Purpose doesn’t always look glamorous, but it keeps you alive.
2. Connection – One of my clients joined a book club. He never read the books. He just showed up for the wine. Guess what? His mood improved anyway. Loneliness kills faster than Cabernet.
3. Identity Renewal – A former CEO once told me, “Now I’m just the guy who organizes the Costco run.” I said, “That sounds like leadership to me.” He didn’t laugh. But his wife did. Loudly.
4. Health – Exercise matters. A man in his 70s started walking daily. His neighbor asked, “Training for a marathon?” He said, “No. Training for the bathroom without holding onto furniture.” That’s motivation.
5. Therapy – Sometimes people just need a space to grieve, laugh, and complain that their grandkids don’t call. My job is reminding them: the grandkids will call… when they need a co-signer.

The Real Question

All late-life crisis boils down to: Am I still valuable if I’m not who I used to be?

The answer is yes—but not if you keep pretending you’re still 40. The way forward is letting yourself matter differently: through presence, wisdom, laughter, and the stories only you can tell.

Let’s Get Practical

A late-life crisis isn’t the end of your story—it’s the plot twist where you stop pretending, drop the illusions, and discover what’s left when the costumes come off.

Next, below, we’ll come up with some practical steps for solving the ‘Late-Life Crisis.’

And trust me: what’s left is a lot more interesting than the guy in leather pants who bought the bass guitar.

The Late-Life Crisis: Surviving Your Final Plot Twist — The Playbook

By Ross Grossman, LMFT

Below are 9 plug-and-play mini-programs you can start today. No vague platitudes. Clear steps, scripts, and checkboxes. Pick one or two to start.

1) The 90-Minute Reset (Do This Today)

Goal: Break inertia and prove you can still steer the ship.

• 00:00–00:10 — Dress the part: comfy shoes, light jacket. Put keys/wallet/phone by the door. (Decision fatigue is the enemy.)
• 00:10–00:35 — 15-minute walk out and back. (If mobility issues: 10 minutes of gentle chair mobility + 5 minutes of breath work: inhale 4, exhale 6.)
• 00:35–00:50 — Call or text 2 people using this script:
  • Script: “Hey, it’s me. I’m doing a quick life-tune-up. 15-minute coffee or call this week? I have Tue 10–12 or Thu 3–5.”
• 00:50–01:10 — Clean one surface (desk or kitchen counter) to completely clear. Trash 10 items or file them.
• 01:10–01:30 — Eat a “grown-up snack”: protein + fiber (e.g., Greek yogurt + berries; or hummus + carrots). Glass of water.
• 01:30–01:35 — 2 lines in a notebook: “What gave me energy today?” “What stole it?”
• 01:35–01:40 — Tomorrow’s micro-plan: Circle one of the playbooks below and block it on your calendar.

If you do only this today, you’ve already interrupted the spiral.

2) The 7-Day Social Reboot (No Small Talk Required)

Goal: Replace loneliness with low-effort connection reps.

• Day 1: Send 3 “warm openers”:
  • “Saw this and thought of you—made me laugh.” (Attach link/photo.)
  • “How’s your [grandkid/garden/shoulder]?”
  • “You still at the same number? Want to catch up 10 minutes Thu?”
• Day 2: One invite for a 15-minute coffee at a place with easy parking.
• Day 3: Join 1 thing you can attend this week (library talk, walking group, faith study, senior center class).
• Day 4:Phone a friend you’ve avoided.
  • Script: “I’ve been a ghost. Fixing that. Got 10 minutes now or later this week?”
• Day 5: Host a tiny thing: tea on your porch. 30–45 minutes max, 2 people.
• Day 6: Service touch: write 1 thank-you note (doctor, neighbor, teacher). Stamp it.
• Day 7: Review: Which connection felt best? Put a standing repeat on your calendar (same day/time weekly).

Rule: Keep everything short on purpose. Late-life stamina is real; so is late-life social fatigue.

3) The 30-Day Purpose Sprint (Find “What Now,” Not “Who I Was”)

Goal: Test small missions until one sticks.

• Week 1 – Inventory (20 minutes/day):
  • List 10 things you know how to do that help others (fix small tech issues, tutor reading, organize closets, basic bookkeeping, dog-calming magic).
  • Circle 3 that feel light.
• Week 2 – Micro-apprentice:
  • Email/ask 2 orgs about a tiny role: 1–2 hours/week for 2 weeks, ends automatically.
  • Script: “I’m testing small ways to help. I can commit to two Wednesdays, 10–12, for [skill]. Low-maintenance is best.”
• Week 3 – Deliverable:
  • Create one concrete thing someone can use: a 1-page how-to, a 30-minute story time, a 10-item resource list, a porch guitar set for the block.
• Week 4 – Choose & schedule:
  • Pick the one that energized you. Put it on a 6-week repeat. Decline the rest (politely).

Success metric: You end with one recurring, bite-sized role that serves somebody specific.

4) Identity Rebuild: Retire the Role, Keep the Value

Goal: Mourn old titles; extract their essence for new life.

• Step 1 (Write 5 minutes): “As a [old role], what did people actually get from me?” (e.g., steadiness, humor, problem-solving)
• Step 2: Rename that essence as a new job title you can live today (e.g., from “VP of Sales” → “Neighborhood Connector,” “Family Archivist,” “Grandkid Science Coach”).
• Step 3: Design one weekly act that proves it (e.g., host a 20-minute Monday “fix-it clinic” for neighbors’ phone settings).
• Step 4: Tell 2 people the new title out loud. (Identity sticks when witnessed.)

5) Minimal-Effort Health Plan (Works Even on Low-Energy Days)

Goal: Mood up, pain down, sleep regular.

• Daily “3 × 10” movement:
  • 10 minutes after breakfast (walk or chair routine)
  • 10 minutes after lunch
  • 10 minutes after dinner
  • If joints protest: 10 sit-to-stands + 10 wall presses + 10 calf raises, done thrice.
• Sleep anchor: Same bedtime/wake time ±30 minutes. Dark room, cool temp, no screens 60 minutes prior (audiobook/podcast OK).
• Meals: Protein + fiber each meal (eggs + berries; beans + veg; fish/chicken + lentils + greens). Keep it boring on purpose.
• Medication & questions list: Keep a running index card for doctor visits. Bring it.

You’re not training for a marathon. You’re training for “stairs without cursing.”

6) Grief & Meaning—The 3-Box Ritual (One Hour, Gentle)

Goal: Honor loss without drowning in it.

• Set a timer 60 minutes.
• Box A (Keep Close): 3 items that make you feel connected (photo, recipe card, scarf).
• Box B (Share): 3 items to give to someone who’d cherish them.
• Box C (Archive/Release): 3 items to store, digitize, or let go.
• Write a 5-sentence note to the person you miss, ending with: “Here’s how I’ll carry you forward this week: ______.”
• Schedule one small act (cook their recipe, play their song, tell their story to a grandkid).

7) Financial Calm in 45 Minutes (Not Advice—Just Order)

Goal: Reduce background dread so there’s room for life.

• Gather: latest statements (checking, savings, credit card, investments).
• List fixed bills + due dates on one page.
• Autopay minimums for anything you routinely forget.
• One 10-minute money date weekly: look at balances, choose one micro-action (cancel dead subscription, set $50/month auto-transfer to savings).
• If complex: book a 1-hour meeting with a fiduciary planner. Bring your one-page list. Leave with 2 actions only.

8) Family & Couple “Sunday Powwow” (15 Minutes, Phones Down)

Goal: Reduce resentment; plan reality.

• Minute 0–5: Each person names ONE hope for the week + ONE stress.
• Minute 5–10: Quietly put the top 2–3 items on the calendar (rides, appointments, money tasks).
• Minute 10–15: Appreciation round: each names one thing the other did last week that helped.
• Rules: No fixing, no debates, no monologues. If it needs a longer talk, schedule a separate 30-minute slot.

9) When It’s More Than a Crisis (Red-Flag Check)

Goal: Know when to bring in reinforcements.

• If you’ve had two weeks of: no interest in anything, big sleep/appetite changes, hopelessness, or thoughts of self-harm → call your clinician.
• U.S.: Dial 988 (Suicide & Crisis Lifeline) or text HOME to 741741. If danger is imminent, call 911.
• You’re not “failing.” You’re treating a health problem.

Script Bank (Copy/Paste)

• Coffee Invite: “Doing a little reset. 15-minute coffee at [place] Wed 10:30 or Thu 3:00?”
• Volunteer Ask: “I can offer [skill] for two Wednesdays 10–12. Low-maintenance trial okay?”
• Boundary (Kind): “I’m rebuilding stamina, so I’ll stay for 45 minutes today.”
• Decline (Warm): “I’m saying yes to fewer things so I can show up well. Rain check next month?”

If You Only Do Three Things This Month

1. Lock a sleep anchor (same bedtime/wake time).
2. Schedule one recurring connection (weekly coffee or call, same slot).
3. Choose one micro-purpose and put it on repeat for six weeks.

Remember: Late-life crisis isn’t cured by grand gestures. It’s solved by small, repeatable wins that make your days more yours. Start with one playbook. When it feels routine, add another.

Sincerely,

Ross Grossman, MA, LMFT
Affinity Therapy Services

http://www.affinitytherapyservices.com