What Endings Means As Used Here


Sometime after the old story begins to loosen, whether it’s about retiring, family changes, or physical changes, . . . things that once worked start to fail quietly.

Not all at once.

Not catastrophically.

Just enough to be noticed.

Then ignored.

Then noticed again.

Roles that had carried weight for decades grow lighter, then awkward, then hollow.

Certainties thin.

Effort produces less return.

The familiar moves stop landing the way they used to.

At first, this feels like a problem to solve.

Most of us were trained that way.

If something stops working, we adjust.

If a role loses power, we reinforce it.

If meaning fades, we double down on purpose.

But, this time, doubling down does not help.

What is happening does not respond to improvement.

It does not want optimization.

It does not want encouragement.
It wants something to end.

That realization comes slowly, and then all at once.

Looking back, it becomes clear there were several such endings . . . more than a few.

Enough changes in enough areas of life to change the ground we thought was solid.

Each one arrives disguised as inconvenience or failure or fatigue.

Each one asks to be managed . . . and each one resists management.

A capacity relied on for years slips away.

A way of being respected no longer applies.

A sense of usefulness evaporates without explanation.

These moments aren’t clearly losses at the time . . . . so they get treated as problems . . . and that makes things worse.

Only in hindsight does it become clear that something more fundamental has been happening.

Not change in the ordinary sense . . . not transition . . . not reinvention.

It is something closer to death . . . not physical death . . .

Not emotional collapse.

Identity death . . . the passing away of things that we always took for granted . . . that we thought were us.

Leaving us with an obvious, but very difficult question: If these things that we thought defined us aren’t true anymore, then who the heck are we now?
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🧠 Gray Matters Weekly

A calm, conscious companion for men 60+ facing life’s second act.

🔧 The Pause Button

Ever say something sharp before you even realize you’re upset?

It might happen during an argument, a phone call, or even in line at the grocery store. That flash of irritation, that automatic response—it can leave behind a ripple of regret. But what if you had just a few extra seconds?

🛠️ The Tool: The Pause Button

The Pause Button is a mental habit: before reacting—especially when triggered—pause for just 3 slow breaths. That’s it.

Here’s how to practice it:

  1. Notice the trigger. Tight chest, rising voice, clenched jaw—your body always gives you a heads-up.

  2. Name it internally. Say to yourself: “This is . anger ... frustration… impatience ,,, pride …  or whatever”

  3. Take 3 full breaths. Just noticing the pathway of the air in and out.

  4. Respond—or walk away. Only after the breaths, choose your next move.

This isn't about stuffing your feelings. It's about giving your wiser self a moment to show up.

🧠 Why It Works

When we react quickly, the amygdala (your brain’s threat detector) reacts very quickly to what might be a dangerous the situation. The Pause Button lets your prefrontal cortex (the reasoning part) catch up and decide what to do next.

Pausing helps:

  • Interrupt emotional spirals.

  • Decrease shame after conflict.

  • Make room for thoughtful words instead of sharp ones.

With time and repetition, this 3-breath pause becomes second nature.

🪞 Try This This Week

Notice one moment this week when your gut reaction is to snap or shut down.
Instead, try the Pause Button. Even if it’s messy, even if you do it late—notice the shift.

🧶 From Me to You

When I first practiced this, I usually remembered after I snapped. But gradually, I caught it earlier—like watching a slow-motion replay of my own patterns. That’s when real change started.

Ever tried something like this before—or have your own method of pausing?
I’d love to hear how it goes.

— John

What We Mean by Endings
Every man reaches a point where the old story no longer fits. Careers close. Roles shift. Friendships thin out. The things that once defined us don’t hold the same weight. These endings aren’t failures — they’re signals that something new is asking for space.What We Mean by Endings
Every man reaches a point where the old story no longer fits. Careers close. Roles shift. Friendships thin out. The things that once defined us don’t hold the same weight. These endings aren’t failures — they’re signals that something new is asking for space.

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