“I have treated many hundreds of patients. Among those in the second half of life – that is to say, over 35 – there has not been one whose problem in the last resort was not that of finding a religious outlook on life.”

― C.G. Jung, Modern Man in Search of a Soul

People often come to therapy because of an existential crisis, a mid-life crisis, or a crisis of identity—in other words—the process of aging. Dealing with aging is facing the passage of time and the effect that has on the human psyche.

Cells grow and replicate and die, neurons fire, and hormones are secreted—all in real time—as the clock ticks on and on. The physical process of aging carries many surprising changes, and it can take time before we finally realize that we are no longer capable of doing some of the things we used to do. Biochemical and neural processes, too, mutate over time, and we need time to even recognize the changes, let alone adjust to them. Meanwhile, our self-awareness is stuck in a previous observation or conclusion (or trauma), while as an organism, we have already moved on. The crisis of identity that comes with aging often arises from this lag between time and self-perception.

Compounding this “grand adjustment disorder” at midlife is the confrontation between one’s growing self-awareness that comes with years on Earth and the realization that as time passes, various hopes and dreams—and self-delusions—might never come true. Certain understandings we’ve held for years about people and events may be completely mistaken. The values that have up until now motivated us may now seem false. Compounding this, the aging process makes us doubt we can effect the changes needed to accommodate these new understandings (let alone whether we have enough time left to make changing even worthwhile!).

James Hollis, in his Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life, discusses the idea that the first half of life is about acquiring things—career, objects, relationships—and the second half of life is about giving them up. Before we get too depressed over this, understand that what Hollis is talking about is the spiritual journey we are all on, in which, inevitably, we come to the point where we say, “What’s it all about?” Life is no longer about things, it is about meaning.

In the opening quotation above, Carl Jung writes that he never brought relief to a patient over 35 without their achieving some kind of spirituality. What Jung was getting at, and Hollis, too, is that the aging process that overcomes one at midlife is now cognizant of its own mortality, that the show may be over all too soon. To reconcile this with the limitations of human logic and emotion, we must accept some form of spirituality. Slowly we come to feel that the intangibles in life are more important than the tangibles, that there is something more important going on than one’s limited physical existence.

Working with issues of aging involves learning acceptance, while ensuring that time spent on earth counts for something. As we age, we need to find a larger purpose which will make aging bearable, given that it will inevitably filled with loss and sadness, but also—what?—enlightenment and joy? It’s up to us to make that choice.

David Bowman LMFT is a licensed psychotherapist based in Los Angeles, California.

Photo credit: Micah UNSPLASH

Human civilization took tens of thousands of years to evolve from small groups of nomadic hunter-gatherers into communities of farmers, city dwellers, merchants, explorers, readers, and writers. Great shifts in lifestyle reshape how people relate to one another. Only about 250 years have passed since the last major change—the Industrial Revolution—and now we stand on the edge of another: the Virtual Revolution.

In this new era, our ways of connecting, communicating, and finding meaning are changing again. The traditional image of a family gathered around a fire or dinner table has been replaced by children and adults absorbed in digital worlds. Many people feel more comfortable online than in their real lives. We take for granted the marvels of modern life—artificial intelligence, instant communication, endless entertainment, advanced medicine, and longer lifespans. Yet, as our virtual connections grow stronger, some real-world bonds—especially between fathers and children—are fading or taking unfamiliar forms.

Fortunately, psychology has advanced enough to recognize and treat some of the emotional wounds caused by absent or distant father figures. Absence does not always mean physical disappearance. A father can live in the same home yet be emotionally, spiritually, or mentally unavailable. Such absence can leave deep and lasting effects on a child’s sense of worth, confidence, and identity.

Take Gary, for example. His father was a high-school coach who constantly pressured his son to excel in sports, though Gary had no interest or talent for athletics. When not demanding that Gary perform, his father spent his time at football games with his team, drinking with friends, or ignoring his family. Although he considered himself a responsible father, he never truly knew his son. Gary’s memories of him were filled with pain and rejection. It was only later, as an adult, that Gary realized he needed to become the father he never had—someone capable of offering himself guidance, kindness, and support.

In my work as a therapist, I use an approach called reparenting—replacing the old, unhelpful messages learned from one’s original parental figures with new, healing and empowering messages. The essence of this practice is that no one else can heal the wounds left by an absent father so long ago. We must learn to do it ourselves. That means finding an internal voice to affirm our own worth, give ourselves approval, feel that we belong, and cultivate inner strength and safety.

For men especially, this process involves recognizing what lessons or qualities were missing from their relationship with their fathers—such as protection, encouragement, wisdom, or conditional love—and consciously developing those qualities within themselves. By doing so, they create an inner father figure, an idealized source of guidance who can mentor and support them throughout life.

Ultimately, refathering ourselves is not about replacing our biological fathers but about reclaiming the father energy we lack. It is an act of self-discovery and growth—learning to become our own source of wisdom, confidence, and compassion for the rest of our lives.

*James Hollis: Under Saturn’s Shadow: The Wounding and Healing of Men. Inner City Books, 1994, pp. 84-85.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash