I’m nearly 80 and there’s a void in my life that hobbies can’t fill

The question I am nearing 80 and am overwhelmed by what I think is called existential boredom. The truth is I’ve been struggling with it for what seems like aeons… I have achieved all my ambitions – and loads more – but I’m now at a loss as to what do next. I am constantly told to get a hobby or join a choir, by people who have no idea of what deep boredom is. I envy them! What do you suggest I do?

Philippa’s answer That existential boredom you describe, it’s not just any boredom, is it? It’s not the kind that can be swept away with a new hobby or a trivial distraction. No wonder you feel frustrated when people tell you to “keep busy”, as though filling time could address what’s really going on inside you.

This phase of life isn’t about what you “do” next, but who you become next. And perhaps the most important step is to recognise that you still have that power. What happens next may not be about achieving external goals but about turning inward, toward the depths of who you are, and finding the next stage of your own becoming. It’s not an easy journey, and I don’t mean to minimise how isolating it can feel. But in that struggle, there is also the potential for profound discovery.

You’ve achieved your ambitions, reached goals you once set for yourself, and now you find yourself at a loss. What next, after all the striving and attaining? That place you’re in is what existential philosophers call “the existential vacuum”, where the old meanings have dried up, and the activities that once filled your life no longer sustain you. This is not an uncommon experience, especially for those who have truly lived, achieved, and accomplished. You have faced life’s challenges, but now, without those goals, a deeper question is emerging: What is left?

I imagine that at nearly 80, you are facing not only boredom but a deeper existential crisis, because this isn’t about boredom in the everyday sense but a confrontation with what the existential psychotherapist Rollo May called “being and non-being”. You are, perhaps, more aware than ever of your own finitude, of time itself slipping through your fingers, and this awareness can leave you feeling hollow. Yet, it’s this awareness that holds the potential for something more profound.

Your boredom is a call to find a new, deeper, form of engagement with life, one that transcends the goals and achievements that used to motivate you. I don’t think that the real issue is boredom – it is the search for meaning in this stage of your life. It’s about facing the freedom you have now, not as an overwhelming burden but as an opportunity.

Meaning isn’t something we “solve” or “achieve” once and for all. It’s something we constantly create. And now that you’re standing at a crossroads, you have the freedom to redefine meaning in ways that are not dictated by past goals or external accomplishments. You can engage with life in a way that reflects the person you are becoming, not the person you used to be.

That might sound daunting, but this is where Rollo May’s idea of creativity comes in. He didn’t mean creativity in the sense of painting or writing (though it could be that), but in the broader sense of how we relate to life. You may no longer be building a career or chasing after the ambitions of your youth or middle age, but that doesn’t mean the creative process stops. It just shifts. What new ways of living, new relationships, or ways of engaging with the world might still spark something in you? What might you contribute, even if only quietly, to those around you or to the world at large? This could be something altruistic like listening to schoolchildren read, or something of mutual benefit like good conversation.

It’s not about being “busy”, or filling your days with distractions, it’s about asking: What still matters to me? It’s about reclaiming the freedom you have now, even if it feels uncomfortable, even if it means confronting uncertainty. What parts of yourself have yet to be explored? Are there conversations you’ve never had, people you’ve never truly connected with? I wonder if, in some way, you’re being called to confront your own authenticity. What is most authentic to you now? You’ve been through so much of life already; you’ve seen beyond the illusions of constant success and striving. So now, what calls to you at this deeper level? What kind of being do you want to embody, now that your life’s work is, in many ways, complete?

And of course, there is also the shadow of “non-being” that hangs in the background. Rollo May would suggest that embracing this, rather than denying it, can bring a sharper sense of meaning to the present. It’s not about despairing at the end but, rather, seeing that the fact that life is finite is what gives it urgency and meaning. The awareness of death is what can make life, in the here and now, all the richer.

You are not alone in this. So many of us face that void, that sense of “what now?” But what you are going through isn’t a failure of imagination, it’s the human condition, and it’s an opportunity to reshape your own meaning, even now.

Recommended reading Boredom: A Lively History by Peter Toohey

Every week Philippa Perry addresses a personal problem sent in by a reader. If you would like advice from Philippa, please send your problem to askphilippa@guardian.co.uk. Submissions are subject to our terms and conditions