I was hiding in my car in the Target parking lot, eating a granola bar and avoiding a baby shower invitation, when I first heard about Shonda Rhimes’s “Year of Yes.” My friend texted me: “You NEED this book. Like, yesterday.”
My first thought? Easy for Shonda Rhimes to say yes to everything. She’s got assistants, nannies, and probably someone whose entire job is to say no FOR her. What about those of us saying yes while juggling hot flashes, aging parents, and adult kids who still can’t find their birth certificates?
But here’s the thing: I bought the book anyway (along with wine and chocolate, because balance). And at 61, after reading it twice and ugly crying in my bathtub, I can tell you this book isn’t just for TV moguls. It’s for anyone who’s been saying no to the wrong things and yes to everyone else’s priorities but their own.
Why This Book Hit Different at 61
When you’re young, saying yes feels rebellious and exciting. When you’re my age, saying yes can feel exhausting, terrifying, or like you’re too old to start something new. Shonda gets this in a way that surprised me.
She talks about being an introvert (hello, kindred spirit) who said yes to speaking engagements despite wanting to vomit. I related hard. Last year, a friend asked when I was going to finish Enlightenzz? My immediate response? “I’d rather have a root canal while listening to bagpipe music.”
But I’d just finished reading this book. So I said “Starting now.”
Did I almost back out seventeen times? Yes. Did I stress-eat an entire sleeve of Thin Mints as I started? Also yes. But I did it. And people are now thanking me for being “real” about life after 50. Turns out, my story about crying in a Wells Fargo parking lot after my divorce resonated more than any PowerPoint about compound interest ever could.
The Yes That Changed Everything
Shonda writes about saying yes to playing with her kids, even when she had “more important” things to do. This wrecked me. Not because of my kids (they’re adults who mostly want me to say yes to lending them money), but because of what I’ve been saying no to for myself.
Here’s my confession: For three years, I’d been wanting to try Dutch pour painting. Every time I passed the art store, I’d think about it. Every time, I’d tell myself:
- “You’re not artistic” (true, my stick figures need therapy (turns out I had more issues than National Geographic). As I learned about brain chemistry, therapy became essential)
- “It’s expensive” (also true, but I spend $7 on coffee without blinking)
- “You’re too old to start a new hobby” (the biggest lie)
- “You don’t have time” (I watch four hours of Netflix on Sundays)
After reading Shonda’s chapter about saying yes to play, I marched into that art store like a woman on a mission. The twenty-something clerk asked if I needed help. “I want to make art that looks like galaxies threw up rainbows,” I told her. She didn’t even blink. “Aisle 3, Dutch pour supplies.”
That yes led to a corner of my office becoming an art studio. It led to selling paintings on Etsy. It led to teaching other women that you don’t need talent, just the willingness to make a gorgeous mess. All because Shonda reminded me that playing isn’t just for kids.
The Uncomfortable Yeses (The Ones That Matter Most)
Shonda talks about saying yes to her body, to taking care of herself. Lord, this one stung. At 61, I’d gotten really good at saying no to doctor appointments, exercise, and vegetables that weren’t french fries.
But after Curtis’s health scare (nothing like your husband almost dying to make you reassess everything), I realized my no’s were fear dressed up as busy-ness. So I started saying yes:
- Yes to the mammogram I’d postponed three times
- Yes to walking even when my knee sounds like bubble wrap
- Yes to therapy (turns out I had more issues than National Geographic)
- Yes to eating breakfast that isn’t coffee and resentment
- Yes to admitting I need reading glasses (and maybe accepting that I look distinguished in them)
The therapy yes was the hardest. Shonda writes about saying yes to vulnerability, and honestly, I’d rather streak through Walmart than talk about my feelings. But there I was, telling a stranger about my father’s death, my fear of Curtis dying, and how I sometimes hide in the bathroom to eat chocolate in peace.
The Plot Twist Yeses
Here’s what Shonda doesn’t tell you (probably because she’s younger and hasn’t hit this stage yet): When you’re over 60, some of your yeses become about accepting what is, not just reaching for what could be.
I said yes to:
– My body changing (goodbye, waistline of 2009)
– My kids making choices I don’t understand (cryptocurrency, really?)
– Needing naps (they’re not giving up, they’re powering up)
– Being the oldest person in my Pilates class (and the loudest when my back cracks)
These aren’t the glamorous yeses. They won’t make it into any inspirational Instagram posts. But they’re the yeses that lead to peace.
The No’s That Had to Happen First
Shonda’s book isn’t really about saying yes to everything. It’s about saying yes to what matters, which means saying no to what doesn’t. After reading it, I finally said no to:
- Being the family event coordinator (my kids have phones, they can plan Thanksgiving)
- Fixing everyone’s problems (I’m not Google, a bank, or a therapist)
- Pretending I understand my granddaughter’s music (it’s noise, beautiful noise, but noise)
- Apologizing for taking up space, having opinions, or eating the last cookie
- Waiting for “someday” (spoiler alert: at 61, someday is now)
What This Book Gets Wrong (A Little)
Look, Shonda Rhimes is brilliant, but she’s also got resources most of us don’t. When she says yes to traveling, she’s not searching for the cheapest flight on Tuesday at 3 AM. When she says yes to self-care, she’s probably not doing yoga in her living room while her husband asks where his socks are.
But here’s what I learned: You can translate her privilege into your reality. Her yes to a personal trainer became my yes to YouTube workouts. Her yes to saying no to toxic people became my yes to not answering texts immediately (revolutionary at my age, trust me).
The Unexpected Yes That Shook Me
Three months after reading this book, I said yes to something that 30-year-old me would have considered insane: starting a website. At 61. With the technical skills of a confused hamster.
But Shonda’s chapter about saying yes to speaking up, to sharing your voice, kept echoing in my head. I had 61 years of mistakes, lessons, and stories. Maybe someone needed to hear them.
That yes led to Enlightenzz. It led to discovering art at 61 and finding my voice. It led to women emailing me saying “Thank you for making me feel less alone.” It led to discovering I had things to say that mattered. All because a TV writer reminded me that yes is a complete sentence.
Should You Read This Book?
If you’re over 50 and think your yes years are behind you, read this book. If you’re tired of being everyone’s yes while being your own no, read this book. If you’ve forgotten how to play, dream, or believe you deserve good things, read this book.
But here’s my warning: This book will make you uncomfortable. It’ll make you look at all the ways you’ve been hiding. It’ll make you question why you’re saving the good china, the nice perfume, the dreams you’ve shelved.
Shonda Rhimes wrote this book from a place of power and success. But its message works just as well from a place of hot flashes and knee pain. Because saying yes isn’t about being young, rich, or powerful. It’s about being brave enough to show up for your own life.
My Year of Yes Challenge to You
You don’t need a whole year. Start with a week. Say yes to one thing that scares you, one thing that brings you joy, and one thing you’ve been postponing.
Maybe it’s yes to the dance class (who cares if you look like a seizure having a seizure?). Maybe it’s yes to the difficult conversation. Maybe it’s yes to rest, to play, to admitting you don’t have it all figured out.
Because here’s what Shonda’s book taught me: The opposite of yes isn’t always no. Sometimes it’s “not yet” or “I’m too old” or “what will people think?” And those are the real dream killers.
So yes, read “Year of Yes.” Yes, cry in your bathtub if you need to. And yes, start saying yes to yourself. Even if you’re 61, especially if you’re 61. Because plot twist: We’re not too old for new stories. We’re just old enough to make them really interesting. Ready to say yes to the book? Please get it here!
