I turned 60.

And I have to admit, that sentence feels strange coming out of my mouth. Because when I was younger, I had a very different picture of what 60 looked like.

I thought by this age you magically had everything figured out.

Your house would always be clean.
Your emotions would always be controlled.
Your relationships would all make sense.
Your confidence would be unshakable.
Your life would be wrapped up perfectly like a beautiful package with a big bow on top.

Spoiler alert – that is absolutely not how this works. Life is still messy. I’m still messy. The difference is that now I know how to handle the mess. And that might be the greatest gift turning 60 has given me: wisdom.

For the first time in my life, I can honestly say that I love myself. Not the “everything is wonderful and I never have a bad day” kind of self-love you see written on a coffee mug. Real self-love. The kind that has been tested and walked through fire. The kind that has looked at every mistake, heartbreak, failure, insecurity, loss, and painful chapter and said, “I’m still here.”

And not only am I still here, but I’m also proud of the woman standing on the other side.

But I want to be very clear about something. I didn’t turn 60 and suddenly become some enlightened version of myself who floats through life giving advice from the mountaintop. Absolutely not.cI’m walking the same road every other woman is walking. I still struggle. I still have things I’m working through. I still have moments when life surprises me, challenges me, and teaches me. The difference now is that I have tools, experience, and perspective.

I have six decades of lessons that remind me I can survive hard things because I already have. That changes everything.

For my birthday, I spent a lot of time reflecting on the lessons each decade gave me. Some lessons arrived wrapped beautifully. Others felt like they crashed through the front door, made a mess, and left me to clean it up.

But every single one shaped me.

20

My 20s were a whirlwind. Everything moved so fast. I was trying to figure out love, life, who I was, and where I belonged.

Like many women, I thought love meant giving more trying harder, and forcing things to work. I confused being needed with being valued.

I made bad decisions in relationships, endured domestic violence and toxicity where love should have been. It took me a long time to understand that real love doesn’t ask you to disappear. That decade taught me one of my hardest but most important lessons:  Never abandon yourself trying to earn someone else’s love.

30

Then came my 30s. And somehow life hit the accelerator.

My 30s brought me one of the greatest gifts of my life: motherhood.

There is nothing quite like becoming responsible for another human being to teach you love, patience, fear, joy, and the ability to function on very little sleep.

Motherhood expanded my heart in ways I never knew possible. Suddenly there were more roles. More responsibilities. More expectations.

Motherhood. Careers. Relationships. Trying to build a life while also wondering if everyone around you thinks you’re doing it right. Those years are beautiful, but let’s be honest, they are exhausting.

There were days when everyone else had eaten dinner and I realized I hadn’t even sat down for a warm meal.

Days when I was checking every box, taking care of everyone else, and still forgetting myself.

A lot of women do.

We don’t even notice it happening. We just slowly move ourselves lower and lower on the priority list until one day we realize we’re not even on it anymore.

40

My 40s were proof that new beginnings don’t have expiration dates. I finally started asking different questions. Not just “What does everyone need from me?” But:

“What do I need?”

“What do I want?”

“Who am I becoming?”

In getting curious about myself again, I found real love. I took chances. I stepped into new opportunities. I started asking myself what I actually wanted my life to look like instead of what everyone else expected from me. 

50

My 50s tested me in ways I never could have imagined.

There were moments I felt like my entire life had burned down around me.

I experienced love, loss, health challenges, grief, change, and moments that forced me to rebuild pieces of myself. There were times when I didn’t recognize my own life. But sometimes the seasons that break us open are the same ones that reveal what we’re made of.

I walked through the fire.

And slowly, piece by piece, I started rising again.

Maybe not perfectly.

Maybe with a few scars.

But stronger, a little wiser, and finally, comfortable being me.

Which brings me here.

60

Sixty. And I’m excited. Not because life magically gets easier. Not because I have all the answers. But because I trust myself in a way I never have before.

I know who I am. I know I’m not for everyone. And that’s OK, because I’m good with me. Do you know how freeing that is? After decades of worrying what people think, trying to please everyone, trying to measure up to impossible standards, you finally realize: The goal was never to become someone else. The goal was to come home to yourself. And yes, that includes having a little more fun along the way.

Let’s talk about aging as women.

Why do we put so many rules on ourselves? If I want the outfit, I’m buying the outfit. If I want the skincare, the facial, the makeup, or the thing that makes me feel confident, I’m going to enjoy it. Not because I need fixing. Because I like celebrating myself.

And if another woman wants none of those things? Wonderful. Her value isn’t any different than mine. Our worth was never hiding inside a dress size, a wrinkle, a relationship status, or anyone else’s opinion.

And dating at this stage of life?

That’s a whole different adventure.

When you’re younger, you’re trying to figure out who someone is. At 60, everyone knows exactly who they are. For better or worse. We all come with stories, families, habits, routines, and strong opinions.

There’s something refreshing about that.

Because I’m not looking for someone to complete me. I’m already whole. What I’m looking for in this decade is meaning, connection, growth, and purpose. And maybe that’s what excites me most about turning 60.

I don’t see turning 60 as reaching the finish line. I see it as stepping into the role I was always meant to have.

I want to keep exploring. Keep learning. Keep surrounding myself with people who challenge me, inspire me, and bring new wisdom into my life. Because none of us are meant to figure this out alone.

That’s what I hope Bishop Life becomes: a community of women walking this road together. Sharing what we’ve learned. Sharing what we’re still learning. Encouraging each other through the beautiful, complicated, messy parts of life.

I picture it almost like being an explorer with a team beside me. Maybe I’m holding the flashlight because I’ve walked through a few more storms, but I’m still on the journey too.

I want to lead with love, honesty, vulnerability, and the lessons life has given me (and the lessons I’m still learning every single day).

Helping another woman step into her confidence, rediscover herself, chase something new, or simply believe she deserves a beautiful life absolutely thrills me.

But I never want anyone to mistake my confidence for perfection.

My life is still messy.

I’m still growing.

I’m still walking the walk right beside you.

I just finally trust the woman taking the next step.

So here’s to 60.

• To the beautiful mess.
• To the lessons.
• To the laughter.
• To reinvention at any age.
• To loving yourself while you’re still a work in progress.

Because that’s the secret I wish I had known sooner:

You don’t finally become worthy when you fix everything about yourself. You realize you were worthy all along. And that realization changes everything.

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