I’m 72 and happier than ever—here’s what I stopped doing that changed everything

You know that feeling when you hit a certain age and something just clicks? I’m not talking about retirement parties or getting your first senior discount. I’m talking about that moment when you realize you’ve been carrying around mental baggage that nobody even asked you to hold.

I’ve been watching this pattern with people in my life who seem genuinely content—and I mean the kind of content that isn’t performative or forced. The thing they all have in common? They’ve stopped doing things. Not big dramatic gestures. Just small, quiet decisions to let go.

Here’s what’s interesting from a psychology standpoint: our brains are wired to accumulate. We add habits, worry patterns, social obligations. But the research on aging and happiness shows something counterintuitive. The people who report the highest life satisfaction in their seventies aren’t the ones who’ve accumulated the most. They’re the ones who’ve learned to subtract.

I started asking around. What changed? What stopped? And the answers were surprisingly consistent. So I decided to dig into this myself, both through observation and a bit of research. What I found fascinated me.

Here’s what I’ve found.

1. Comparing their lives to other people’s

There’s this moment that happens. You’re scrolling through something, or you’re at a gathering, and you catch yourself doing the mental math. Your retirement versus theirs. Your grandkids versus their grandkids. Your wrinkles versus their dermatologist.

Then one day, you just stop.

I’ve noticed this with my neighbor, Frank. He’s 72. Years ago, he used to mention who was going where, who had what. Now? He genuinely doesn’t seem to care. When I asked him about it, he shrugged and said, “I realized I was borrowing unhappiness from people I barely think about.”

Social comparison is something psychologists have studied extensively. The research is clear: comparing yourself to others is one of the fastest ways to tank your contentment. But here’s the thing—most of us don’t realize we’re doing it until we’re deep in it. By the time you hit 70, though? You’ve lived long enough to see that comparison never actually improved anything.

When you stop measuring your life against the highlight reel of others, something shifts. You can actually see what’s in front of you.

2. Maintaining relationships that feel like obligations

This one hits different. I used to think that loyalty meant keeping every friendship alive, even the draining ones. Showing up. Being reliable. Even when it felt like pulling teeth.

I watched my mother navigate this beautifully. She had this friend group that had become more out of habit than joy. They’d been meeting for coffee for thirty years. One day, she just… didn’t. She called and said she wasn’t doing it anymore. Gently. No drama.

Her friends were confused at first. But she didn’t feel guilty. She felt lighter.

There’s something called the social portfolio effect—the idea that as we age, we naturally get more selective about who we spend time with. And it’s not callous. It’s actually a sign of emotional maturity. You realize your time is finite. You can’t waste it on energy vampires.

The people who report the highest happiness after 70 aren’t the ones with the biggest friend groups. They’re the ones with the real ones.

3. Worrying about their appearance in the way they used to

I can’t tell you how liberating this seems to be for people I know in this stage of life. The mirror stops being a source of judgment and becomes… just a mirror.

My aunt said something that stuck with me. She used to spend money and mental energy on trying to look younger. Hair dye, special creams, clothes that she thought would “make her look thinner.” Then she had a health scare—nothing serious, but a wake-up call. She realized she’d spent decades at war with her own face.

Now she dyes her hair because she likes the color. Wears what feels good. And honestly? She looks happier.

Research on body image in later life is interesting. It shows that the pressure to maintain appearance often isn’t external—it’s internalized from decades of conditioning. But once you hit 70 and realize nobody’s actually judging you as harshly as you judge yourself? The pressure evaporates.

You get to be human instead of a project.

4. Holding grudges

This is the one that surprised me most when I started researching it. But it makes sense when you think about it.

I have a friend whose father is 75. For years, there was this rift between them. An old argument about something that probably wasn’t even that important. My friend assumed his dad would take it to the grave. Then one day, his dad called and said, “I don’t want to waste any more time on this. I’m sorry.”

Just like that.

What psychologists call emotional regulation gets better with age. Not because you suddenly become enlightened, but because you stop believing that holding onto anger is protecting you. You realize it’s just heavy.

The time you have left becomes a clearer calculation. And grudges feel absurd when you’re thinking in years instead of assuming you have forever.

Related: How to rebuild relationships that matter when time feels precious

5. Pretending to enjoy things they don’t

There’s this quiet permission that comes with age. You don’t have to say yes to everything. You don’t have to pretend to like wine if you don’t. You don’t have to go to parties that bore you. You don’t have to read the books everyone’s reading.

I watched my uncle—he’s 71—politely excuse himself from a gathering after twenty minutes. No elaborate excuse. Just, “This isn’t really for me, and I’m heading home.” Everyone was fine. He was fine. Nobody died.

Before this stage of life, people often operate under this invisible pressure to perform interest. To be agreeable. To fit in. But there’s research on something called authenticity and well-being—the more you align your actions with your actual values and preferences, the happier you become.

At 70, people seem to figure out that pretending is just a slow drain on energy you don’t want to waste.

6. Needing to have the last word in arguments

I’ve noticed older people who seem genuinely at peace have something in common: they’ve stopped defending themselves constantly.

My neighbor and I were talking about politics once. She has opinions. Strong ones. But when I disagreed, she didn’t launch into a debate to convince me. She just said, “Well, that’s what I think,” and moved on. No need to win. No need to prove anything.

This is something psychologists call ego investment—the need to be right as a way of protecting your sense of self. By 70, a lot of people have figured out that their self-worth doesn’t depend on winning every argument.

You can be wrong and still be okay. Revolutionary, right?

7. Trying to be everything to everyone

The pressure to be useful, needed, indispensable—it’s a slow burn that runs through most of our lives. We say yes. We show up. We take on. We solve.

Then one day you realize you’re exhausted, and you haven’t even lived your own life yet.

I know someone who spent her entire career being the person who could handle everything. At 73, she finally said no. Not in an angry way. Just—she stopped volunteering for every committee. Stopped being the go-to problem solver. Started reading books and taking walks and, honestly, being kind of boring in the best way.

Boundary setting is something therapists talk about constantly for younger people, but it feels like a revelation for people in this stage. You’re not being selfish. You’re being realistic about what one person can actually do.

The interesting thing? The world kept turning. People found other solutions. And she got her life back.

Final thoughts

I think the real shift that happens around 70 isn’t about becoming happier through doing more. It’s about becoming happier through being more honest about what actually matters.

All these things people stop doing? They’re not losses. They’re deposits back into your own account.

The people who seem genuinely content at this stage aren’t living differently because they suddenly became wise. They’re living differently because they stopped wasting time on things that were never serving them in the first place. The comparison, the obligation, the pretense, the exhaustion of it all.

What would happen if you started stopping some of these things now, instead of waiting until you’re 70?