It was just an incredible rush of emotions that at times overwhelmed me, left me day dreaming and at times disoriented and confused about who I was or what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.

It began in late May. How many 70 year olds are offered a new job that is part of history in the making, and with a promotion? Fellow workers half my age thought me insane to attempt change “at my age”.

The “thrill” was not one, but a series of emotional rushes. It began on Friday, the 13th when I walked away from an oppressing environment of 18 years. Saturday the 14th, I walked aimlessly through my house unable to put any of my thoughts together. Sunday the 15th I awoke to experience every possible emotion that lay buried all those years.

I needed help but did not know who to ask and that is when I found it in myself. For the next month I read all I could about the new job. The subject matter was emotionally upsetting and at times unnerving. I began fantasizing about all the men I saw on the street, in the shops or on the buses. At first, I felt obsessed but over time discovered this was probably a normal reaction.

I joined a fitness club and began working out three times a week. In four months I lost 25 pounds and went down two dress sizes. I bought new clothes, had my hair styled and nails done. I wanted to be like everyone else, but I did not want to lose my identity. I began trying to work out how to find men to date. I had not dated in 46 years and trusted my emotions less than a potential date’s.

I encountered some strange males - married, cross-dressers and the 20 to 40 year-olds who just adored older women. I dated a couple of older men and found them dull. Those for whom I felt some attraction had been badly wounded by women in the past and were still terribly gun shy. Those I saw once. Widowers seemed always to have a dog given to them by a son after a wife’s death. One said of his late wife “It took her two years to die.” I thought it to be a remark of either someone who died emotionally when his wife died or who had no empathy towards women. We went on three dates and I never saw him again.

I think about it daily and sometimes wake up in the middle of the night or with a start in the morning because I was dreaming of someone making love to me only to find a cat cuddled up. I guess in many respects I think about all the lost opportunities and wonder if any will ever come my way again or if I can ever figure out how to reach out. I think about it also because a friend in the UK encouraged me to write about my life and all the events that shaped me to date .

The writing has made me understand that it was not the world or men that angered me, but I was angry at myself. Telling about my life has made me understand that some of the circumstances would have happened in any event because I had never had any control over my life, others always had.

1. Having someone to talk to about how I felt because I would have felt less alone,

2. Being able to connect with people who have experienced the same types of changes because many self doubts would have fallen by the wayside, and

3. Living in a more modern home because my little bungalow still needs a lot of work and I would be ashamed to bring anyone over.