SerpApi.Org
FOR NEARLY 15 YEARS, Ellen Stewart has run a successful life-coaching business from her New Jersey home. Under the name Pushy Broad from the Bronx, she blends her training and a no-nonsense approach to help clients make positive changes in their lives.
“I’m a cheerleader and a drill sergeant,” she says.
Yet when Stewart fell into a dark place about 10 years ago, she knew her own skills and experience in behavioral health wouldn’t be enough to pull herself out. She needed the help of a professional with clinical training. So, at 65 years old, she turned to therapy.
“These were not situations that I wanted to take to a friend or a relative,” she says. “A therapist will hear my s*** for an hour, and they’ll give me professional advice to make me feel better.”
In therapy, she found a place where she could give voice to the scary thoughts and nagging anxieties in her head, like ageism, mortality, and the invisibility that comes with growing older.
“We need a place to vent,” she says. “My generation were the protesters, the ones that got out there and fought for many things. There is so much more emotional upheaval happening now, and many people have no outlet. There is generalized anxiety, stress, and anger. All of these things need to be rechanneled, but first they need to be expressed in a nonjudgmental environment, and that makes therapy worthwhile.”
If you’re not of Stewart’s generation, but rather a millennial or a Gen Z’er reading this—and one who, like this author, has suggested therapy to a parent only to be told “It’s too late for that!” or “I’m too old!”—you may think Stewart is an outlier. A Boomer unicorn already predisposed to the radical notion of therapy, given her line of work. But you would be wrong. Many women in their 50s, 60s, and beyond are seeking mental health services, and therapists say these years might actually be the most powerful time to take stock and seek guidance.
“A significant portion of my practice focuses on women beginning therapy for the first time in their 50s and 60s,” says Jenna Park, MD, a licensed marriage and family therapist associate in Seattle. “What I consistently see is that midlife is often the first developmental window where women feel both the urgency and the permission to examine their own inner lives after decades of tending to others.”
But is real growth possible at this stage of life? What do women really stand to gain from therapy? And how does one even begin?
Later Blooming
I’ll leave the intrigue and suspense to Agatha Christie and cut right to the chase: Every therapist Women’s Health spoke with agreed that it is never too late to start therapy—for several reasons.
First, says Dr. Park, is the very makeup of our gray matter. “The brain remains neuroplastic,” she says, referring to the organ’s ability to rewire and reorganize neural pathways. “Our brain’s ability to learn continues to happen. Growth continues to happen. Integration of the mind and body can continue to happen.”
Though brains are most plastic during the early developmental years—when, say, learning to brush your teeth without adult assistance is a major moment—an increasing body of research indicates that our brains remain malleable throughout our lifespan, with the caveat that we need to continue learning and practicing new skills to forge those neural pathways. (So consider that New York Times Games subscription an investment in longevity.)
Practice is also powerful for learning to regulate emotions, says Dr. Park. “The idea of beginning to emotionally regulate ourselves is really flexing a new muscle or a muscle that we haven’t used in a long time,” she says. “It’s going to be uncomfortable at first. That’s the key…growth happens when we work through those moments of discomfort.”
Another reason age may actually be a virtue in a therapeutic setting: the sheer number of lived experiences upon which to draw.
“The psychological capacity is wider at this stage in life,” Dr. Park says. “There’s more insight, there’s more experience, there’s more wisdom.”
Karen Elliott, LCSW, owner of LifeSpan Counseling for Older Adults, sees this reflected in her own clientele, who range in age from 50 to 90. (That 90-year-old? She started therapy for the first time at 89.) According to Elliott, this demographic works “more deeply and meaningfully” than people in their 20s or 30s.
“It’s incredible the transformation made with these clients because of what they bring into it so late in life,” she says. “They’re asking deep questions about their identity. They’re asking deep questions about relationships. They’re asking what they want this last stage of their life to look like.”
Yet stigmas around mental health services persist, especially among older adults, who were often encouraged by parents to keep their feelings to themselves and to just put one foot in front of the other, says Lexy Lovell, LCSW, a New York–based social worker. “Many people automatically associate therapy with being defective: Something’s wrong with me,” she says. “But life is not a solo voyage. We are here with others, and we need to reach out.”
Seasons of Change
Most people—regardless of age or gender—seek out therapy during a period of transition in their lives. It could be a divorce, a job loss, a death. Women in their 50s and 60s, specifically, can attest that there’s no shortage of life changes being thrown their way. And while the circumstances may vary from person to person, these shifts often inspire introspection around the same complementary themes: identity and purpose.
Take, for instance, a woman who has spent half of her life raising children. When they fly the coop, she may be left wondering: Who am I beyond Mom? And what do I do now? These questions arise whether or not she also worked outside the home while raising her children, but they particularly resonate for a woman who has stepped away from a career to take on the very real job of being a caregiver.
“Motherhood is one of the most beautiful roles a woman can hold—it’s a very sacred experience,” Elliott says. “[But women can] lose themselves in their role as mother.”
As an empty nester, a woman may also start to wrestle with the realities of her marriage, now that there’s no longer the buffer of children. “I do find that a common theme is living in a very, very unhappy marriage for years and having to fake it to get through it,” Elliott says.
Dr. Park sees this too: “If you come in for the first time in your 50s and 60s and you’re looking at your partner, thinking, I don’t know who this person is, after empty-nesting and after retirement and after all this time that you now have together in a smaller space, we can start to talk about things that maybe just don’t feel good and haven’t felt good for decades,” she says. “We can start to talk about how to shift out into a more positive and more connecting and nurturing space for those relationships.”
Speaking of retirement, that’s another big transition highlighting identity and purpose, especially if who you are is deeply rooted in what you do. With her clients, Elliott spends time mining their values—and it’s often the first time these women have been asked about their values or reflected deeply on them. Through this exercise, women identify what matters to them and how they might find purpose in that.
Recently, one of Elliott’s clients was feeling dismayed about the state of the world and helpless to do anything about it because she is homebound. After some research, Elliott found an organization that the client could volunteer her time to without needing to leave her home.
“It’s given her a purpose again,” Elliott says. “It was so successful that I’ve also given this resource to other women who are finding themselves wanting to somehow still have a voice amid what’s going on politically.”
In the absence of social outlets, like family, coworkers, or volunteer organizations, isolation and loneliness can and do run rampant. “Social isolation in mid- and late-life adults is an epidemic in this country,” Dr. Park says. “I hear and deal and try to help with this one in almost every session, whether it’s an individual or a couple.”
For clients who don’t have a lot of outside support or pursuits, therapy may be the first—and only—line of defense against this isolation. “Social isolation is—I hate to use this word—dangerous,” Elliott says. “It’s dangerous for cognition reasons. It’s dangerous for mobility reasons.”
Exploring the Big M
Now, all of this talk about mid- to late-life transitions wouldn’t be complete without addressing the sweaty, irritable, itchy-eared elephant in the room: menopause.
The transitional period leading into menopause, known as perimenopause, can begin as early as the mid-30s and typically lasts 4 to 10 years. While a raft of physical symptoms (think: hot flashes, irregular periods, and weight gain) serves as a shorthand for this stage of life, the psychological impact can be just as disruptive—and is often overlooked.
Hormonal shifts (fluctuating levels of estrogen, progesterone, and testosterone) can affect mood and sex drive and make you feel like you’re not yourself. In recent years, researchers have also identified an increased vulnerability to depression and anxiety during this shift, per a systematic review in Australasian Psychiatry. Lack of sleep (hello, random 3 a.m. wake-ups!) also takes its toll, leading to irritability and brain fog. Oh, and did we mention that menopause has become a favorite scapegoat for midlife divorce rates?
It’s enough to make you want to run away to a women-only commune, where the AC is perpetually set at 65 degrees and the dress code is all linen, all the time. But as most of us have responsibilities that necessitate remaining in society, therapy might be the next best option.
As a menopause-certified therapist, Tamara De Angelis, LCSW, owner of The New Change, recognizes the immense struggle that results when menopause side effects collide with other life transitions—but she also sees the opportunity.
“These changes are happening, so you can fight it and kick and scream, or you can partner up with a therapist and explore,” she says. “It’s an opportunity to decide, Who do I want to be? How do I want to show up in this world? Am I tired of saying yes more than I really want to? Do I want to go back to school? Am I tired of working? These are all identity questions that come because of the life stage and the circumstances, and then menopause just pushes us right over.”
De Angelis often finds that the angst we feel during this time doesn’t remain bottled up but spills out into our relationships, both personal and professional.
“Very often the presenting complaint is ‘I just don’t feel like myself anymore. I’m angry. I’m irritable. My patience is gone. I no longer care about what other people think. I just say what I want to say,’ ” she says. “These sorts of changes impact relationships. They will come with complaints of relationship problems, marriage problems, work complaints, struggling to adjust to kids leaving. It’s hard to say [this is due] just to menopause, because everything is intersecting.”
It’s because of that intersection that De Angelis sought menopause-specific training, to be able to address her patients’ concerns with evidence-based care. “If somebody comes in and says they’re irritated and they’re anxious and they hate their job now and they don’t like their husband so much, we have to take into consideration that she’s not sleeping because she’s having hot flashes, her mood is tanked because she’s not sleeping, and she’s got brain fog.”
Given the intricate interplay between the physical and the mental, part of De Angelis’s work is assisting her clients in bringing these concerns to medical providers. She offers symptom trackers so clients can easily reference them during an appointment. She also provides scripts or workshops questions ahead of time, so patients feel prepared to articulate their concerns to a physician. From time to time, De Angelis also has to address instances of medical gaslighting or, frankly, incompetence, which women still encounter at the doctor’s office.
“It’s such a hard place to not tell a woman that her doctor’s a total moron because what they’re saying is not based on evidence,” she says. “I had a woman tell me that her doctor said that they don’t believe in testosterone. We had to have a really gentle conversation around science and beliefs. This is the third doctor this woman has [seen] to get care.”
This story and others like it are why De Angelis does what she does and why she’s a proponent of all women trying therapy at least once—whether you’re going through a transition or simply want a safe space in which to talk through your thoughts and feelings.
“I happen to believe that therapy is political,” she says. “I don’t think that you can be a woman living in this world and not have current events impact you in some kind of way.”
Finding a Match
How does one even go about connecting with a therapist? It’s an old chestnut among mental health providers because it’s true: Identifying the right therapist is like courting. “You don’t have to marry the first one you go on a date with,” De Angelis says. Many therapists offer a free 15-minute intro call—some will even go so far as to offer a free first session—that you can take from the comfort of your own home to see if it’s a therapeutic match.
Just as in our modern dating world, there are so many ways to discover The One. When it comes to online resources, PsychologyToday.com is a go-to for many. The site maintains a robust database of providers filterable by location, gender, and areas of specialty, such as grief, divorce, and trauma. The Center for Mental Health and Aging and the American Psychological Association are also good resources, says Dr. Park.
If you prefer a more analog approach, ask for a referral from a trusted physician, like your internist or ob-gyn, or even a friend. (That’s how I found my therapist.) If insurance coverage is important to you, your provider should have a directory of covered mental health specialists.
“The most important thing when you’re looking for a therapist is the relationship,” De Angelis says. “That is more important than training or modality. Is this somebody that connects with me? Is this somebody who listens to me? Do I feel understood? Do I feel safe with this person?”
You may be surprised by the therapist you click with, so an open mind is key. That was the case for Ruth Whippman, a British writer based in California, who started therapy for the first time at 45 years old after struggling to parent three young sons. (She chronicled her learnings in the book BoyMom: Reimagining Boyhood in the Age of Impossible Masculinity.) She elected to use the mental health start-up Two Chairs; after filling out a questionnaire, she was matched with a therapist.
“He was probably 10 years younger than me, didn’t have kids, and was a surfer—a really different person from me,” Whippman says. “I kind of thought I’d get matched with somebody a bit like me—like a mom—and I’m actually really grateful that I did not. There was something great about having a fresh perspective on it.”
Whippman’s first session with her therapist amounted to little more than a cryfest, so overcome was she by having someone truly listen to her without judgment. “All he did was nod and validate and say things like ‘Oh, that sounds really hard.’ He was just reflecting my own feelings back at me, which is absolute beginner-level therapy stuff, but it felt so incredibly relieving and generous and warm,” she says.
Sobbing during the first—or even first few—therapy sessions is something of a common occurrence for many women. And that’s totally okay: After years or decades of holding emotions in, you may just need to release that pressure valve. That’s what Laura, a 54-year-old from Brooklyn, needed in the beginning.
“The first few calls, I wept openly,” says Laura, who started teletherapy during the pandemic to deal with family issues. “It was this catharsis moment. Nobody had ever told me before that it was okay to be sad.”
Later on, with the help of a different therapist, Laura started to dive more deeply into the work. Rather than crying through her sessions, she learned how to articulate her feelings in words—something she’d never truly had the vocabulary to do before. In a romantic relationship that she hoped would go the distance—and make her a stepparent—Laura focused on being the best version of herself that she could be for her new family.
“I had to do that by understanding myself,” she says. “There was no other way to do that. And then what I discovered is that it also helped me understand my relationships outside of that. I’m a better professional. I’m a better sister.”
Laura emphasizes that this growth didn’t happen overnight, nor without effort. “It took a lot of time and practice and repetition,” she says.
Her approach to therapy has evolved once more. Her sessions now are much more strategic and action-oriented. “I have a problem. I ask for a solution. We put a framework around it. We touch base every two weeks to gauge my progress, and it’s going very well,” she says.
Offering a Hand
Now, perhaps you’re reading this as someone who is already in therapy, has discovered the benefits of a regular mental health practice, and wants the same for a loved one. You are certainly not the only person with this inclination. In fact, several therapists indicated that the first line of contact with a potential patient is often a relative inquiring on their behalf. Specifically, the eldest daughter. (Yes, Taylor Swift knew what she was singing about!)
But the topic of therapy can be a thorny one to bring up—especially when a misguided belief that therapy is only for “defective” people or it’s “too late” to change is tightly held. Opening a dialogue requires kindness, curiosity, and tact. Dr. Park suggests a three-step approach: Acknowledge what you’re seeing (“You’ve seemed really overwhelmed lately. I can see how hard this transition has been.”); normalize it (“A lot of people talk to someone during big life changes. It’s not about something being wrong—it’s about having support.”); and emphasize independence (“Talking to someone could help you feel more in control. It’s a tool—like physical therapy for your body.”).
By offering to help with the logistics, such as researching therapists or checking for insurance coverage, you lower the barrier to entry, Dr. Park says.
Ultimately, though, it must be their decision; you can’t strong-arm someone into getting help. If you find they are keen to accomplish a goal or complete a task but are getting tripped up on the “therapy” of it all, life coach Stewart says services like hers might be an easier sell—and a potential gateway. “A coach is sometimes much more palatable to somebody this age than a therapist,” she says, adding that she has referred several clients to a therapist once they were comfortable with her and willing to consider it.
Final Thoughts
Returning to the original question: Is it ever too late to start therapy? No, of course not. Will it return your emotional and mental states to their fresh-out-of-the-box factory settings? Also a no. But that may very well be where the beauty lies.
As I wrapped up my interview with therapist Lexy Lovell, she offered an analogy that’s stuck with me. It’s the centuries-old Japanese art of kintsugi, otherwise known as “golden joinery.” When a ceramic vessel cracks or shatters, practitioners put the broken pieces back together using a special lacquer imbued with gold, silver, or platinum powder. The result is something both old and new—the original object, now marked by shimmering scars.
“It’s like the broken heart is the one that’s stronger,” Lovell says. “I’m a big believer in this.”
Through therapy, our shattered bits can be repaired—and shine even brighter. No matter our age.
