This week, I’d like to introduce you to Sinéad Connolly, an Irish writer based in Sydney.

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Name:

Age: 38

Location: Sydney, Australia (Irish-born, Sydney for fifteen years)

Relationship status: Married

Hobbies: Reading, writing, walking, eating well, spending time in nature, slow mornings

Personal or side projects: Life Between Chapters is my Substack newsletter about identity, transition, and the messy middle. I also write and record a new interview series called What Does Your Week Actually Look Like? where I talk to people who’ve stepped off the traditional path about what their weeks genuinely look like.

Occupation: Writer, Substack creator, and advisor to the recruitment agency I founded and ran for a decade before stepping back last year.

Kids: Pregnant with our first—a boy, due November. It’s been a long road to get here, and I’m still pinching myself most days.

Who are you, and what should we know about you right off the bat?

I’m Irish, I’ve lived in Sydney for fifteen years, and I spent a decade building a recruitment agency from the ground up—growing it into an award-winning, multi-million dollar business before leaving it all behind in June 2025. That decision came after a period of pregnancy loss, burnout, and a creeping sense that the life I’d built no longer felt aligned.

Since then, I’ve been writing from the heart about my experience—the grief, the identity collapse, the financial fear, the unexpected freedom, the slow rebuilding. My Substack, Life Between Chapters, started as a place to process what was happening to me and has since grown organically.

I’m also now heading into my third trimester, pregnant with our first baby after a long and painful road to get here. So life is full, complicated, and genuinely wonderful in a way I couldn’t have predicted a year ago.

Is there a part of yourself that you’re hoping to rediscover in your second half of life?

The version of me that existed before I became a business owner. I spent a decade becoming very good at running something, and now I’m connecting back with what truly lights me up and brings me joy.

What do you care less about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?

I used to have a genuine fear of missing out on social events and of not “keeping up” with my more extroverted peers. These days, I am far more introverted, and as long as I have my book in hand, I can be happy and at peace inside!

What do you care more about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?

My health and listening to my body. I’m learning to embrace the fact that I’m a sensitive soul who feels things very deeply. After years of ignoring what my nervous system was trying to communicate, I’ve learned that it usually knows before my brain does.

When you imagine a good life at 50, 60, 70, or 80, what does it look and feel like?

Peaceful. That’s the word that comes to mind before anything else. Peaceful, warm, and full of people I love. I want to feel expansive in a home that feels like a sanctuary with time and spaciousness. I want to be doing work that still stimulates me but doesn’t consume me and which brings me joy and meaning.

Have any major losses, disappointments, or life transitions changed how you think about your second half?

Our journey to conceive took two years, early pregnancy losses, a couple of failed rounds of IVF, and a lot of tears. It changed everything about how I think about surrendering and about what matters.

This experience was the catalyst for resigning and leaving my business at the same time, adding another layer of complexity to the last few years—the loss of identity that comes with leaving such an established position. I’ve written about this at length because writing through it has helped me make sense of it all and keep me sane!

What are you no longer willing to postpone?

Rest. I’m still learning to slow down, but I’m getting better and know my nervous system needs it. Slow mornings, not rushing, and nourishing my nervous system are now non-negotiables.

What role do work, achievement, or ambition play in your life today compared to earlier chapters?

This is something I’ve been sitting with for over a year and writing about constantly on my Substack. The honest answer is that my relationship with ambition is completely different from what it used to be.

For most of my adult life, ambition meant success and wealth, but in the end, it came at a personal cost to me.

Now I’m trying to understand what ambition looks like when it’s not attached to external markers of success. I still want to build things—I’m not someone who is content to be entirely still and always have so many ideas. But I want to build things that feel meaningful and sustainable, not impressive and exhausting. I’m still very much in figuring-it-out mode, but it feels good to imagine a different kind of success.

What have you learned about happiness that your younger self wouldn’t have understood?

That it feels like calm. My younger self would have laughed at that. She associated happiness with excitement, achievement, the high of a big win.

But the happiness I’ve found in this slower, quieter chapter feels different. It’s steadier. It’s waking up without an alarm and not feeling guilty about it. It’s a long walk, a good book, meals with people I love. I think my life probably looks more boring now, but it is so much calmer and more peaceful.

If the second half of life has a theme or guiding principle for you, what would it be?

Self-trust. Following the breadcrumbs of what actually feels right rather than what looks right from the outside. I spent a long time outsourcing my sense of direction to external validation—metrics, recognition, other people’s opinions of my choices.

Learning to trust my own instincts has been the work of the last few years, and I suspect it will continue to be the work for a long time yet.

What does growing older mean to you now?

More growth. Every year, I understand myself a little better, care a little less about the wrong things, and feel a little more at home in my own skin, and I am very happy to continue evolving and growing.

What are you still trying to figure out?

Almost everything! Mostly, I still struggle with pacing. In my career, in pregnancy, in life, I just want to move so fast, but my sensitive body often can’t keep up with my overactive mind. I’m also figuring out what my next career looks like and how to hold ambition and ease together.

I’ve made peace with the fact that I don’t have the answers yet. The in-between is uncomfortable, but it’s also where most of the interesting things happen, and I’m learning that as I’ve spent a lot of time there this past while.

What belief about life have you changed your mind about?

That certainty is the goal. I used to believe that if I worked hard enough and planned carefully enough, I could achieve control, but so much of my life, now and recently, has been peppered with uncertainty, and learning to lean in and surrender seems to create some magic I would never have predicted.

What are you trying to say “yes” to more these days?

Quality time with the people I love—the people around us, the depth of connection, and our village really is the most important thing to carve out time for.

What are you trying to say “no” to more these days?

The pressure to have a plan, a timeline, a five-year strategy—I don’t have any of these things, and although it feels uncomfortable, I am learning to soften to the uncertainty.

What are you learning to let go of?

My inner critic that shows up when I’ve had a slow week and tells me I haven’t done enough, or produced enough. I have such full weeks, yet that voice creeps in and says I’m lazy and unproductive. It’s exhausting. I’m not sure it will ever go away entirely, but I’m getting better at noticing it and not giving it the airtime.

What feels more urgent now than it did ten years ago?

Living an aligned life—feeling expansive and open-hearted and trusting that I know what’s best. Living misaligned causes tension and friction, and I want to make the most of this life.

What would make you look back and think, “I used my time well”?

The quality of my relationships—as I said, I think this should be our main focus as humans doing this wild life ride!

What do you hope people remember about you when you’re gone?

How I made them feel—hopefully loved and seen and understood.

Big thanks to Sinéad for taking the time to answer my questions, and as always, thanks for reading! Leave a comment or question for her below. 💬

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This week, I’d like to introduce you to Katharina Nguyen Faber, a German writer, creative strategist, and experienced expat currently living in Porto, Portugal.

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Full name: Nguyen Faber

Age: 38

Location: Porto, Portugal

Relationship status: Married

Hobbies: Writing, traveling (I’ve been to 30+ countries), hiking & horseback riding, personal style & beauty, coffee, mulling over what I call big life questions.

Personal or side projects: Into Many Things Substack, building my Instagram and Cadence Podcast with my husband (currently on a break).

Kids: I have a 16-month-old daughter; her name is Sienna.

Who are you, and what should we know about you right off the bat?

I’m Katharina, a German writer, creative strategist, and someone who has lived in multiple countries, including the US, the UK, and Canada. I currently live in Porto with my Canadian husband and our daughter. I’m endlessly curious about how where we live, what we wear, what we buy, and the tiny choices we make every day shape our lives. I write about all of that on my Substack, , with a particular weakness for good design, cities, clothes, food, and beauty.

Is there a part of yourself that you’re hoping to rediscover in your second half of life?

Yes. I’m hoping to rediscover who I am outside the roles I play for other people: mother, wife, daughter, friend. I’ve spent so much of adulthood becoming very good at being all of those things that I’m not entirely sure who I am outside of that.

I think a lot about time in this context. There’s a philosophy behind the beauty brand Merit that really resonates with me: women tend to have less and less time for themselves as life fills up with work, relationships, children, and responsibilities, and we’re constantly encouraged to make ourselves more efficient rather than asking what we actually want that time for.

If you gave me an entirely free day today, with no childcare, work, errands, or obligations, I honestly don’t know what I would do with it. And that feels like something worth paying attention to. I want to get curious again about what I genuinely enjoy, what I care about, what makes me lose track of time, and who I am when I’m not needed by anyone else. But I’m not trying to find an earlier version of myself; it’s more about wanting to find out who I am now, when my time is actually my own.

What do you care less about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?

What other people think of me. Climbing the career ladder. Making more and more money. I just want to live a good life.

What do you care more about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?

Spending my time doing things that contribute to what a good life means to me.

When you imagine a good life at 50, 60, 70, or 80, what does it look and feel like?

I think a good life at 50, 60, 70, or 80 looks less like a particular achievement and more like having built a life I genuinely want to inhabit. I want to still be curious, still have things I’m excited about, still care about how my home looks and what I wear and where we’re going for lunch. I want close friendships that have lasted decades, a relationship that has kept evolving, and a family life that feels connected without consuming every other part of who I am.

I’d like to have the freedom to follow my interests, travel, spend long afternoons reading or writing, sit in cafés, and more. I want enough time that my days don’t feel like a series of things I have to get through. And I hope I’ve resisted the idea that getting older means becoming less interested in the world. If anything, I’d like to become more myself with age: more discerning, more curious, less concerned with what I’m supposed to want.

Mostly, I think I want a life that still feels expansive. Just full of things I find beautiful, people I love, and enough empty space to notice that I’m actually living it.

Have any major losses, disappointments, or life transitions changed how you think about your second half?

Absolutely. I lost my dad when I was 11 years old. He passed when he was 60 years old, and at the time my mom was only in her late 40s. Knowing that I am approaching her age when he passed, or approaching his age when he passed, makes me really want to make the most of life.

What are you no longer willing to postpone?

Building a work environment that is flexible and that I love. I am so done with working for someone else’s vision.

What role do work, achievement, or ambition play in your life today compared to earlier chapters?

Work and ambition used to be much more central to my sense of who I was. Earlier in my career, I was very motivated by achievement: doing well, progressing, being recognized as good at what I did, and proving to myself that I could build an interesting life and career. I still care deeply about doing good work, and I’m probably incapable of not being ambitious, but the role it plays has changed.

Having a child has made me much more aware of ambition's opportunity cost. Time is no longer an abstract resource, and I’m less willing to automatically give more of it to work just because I can. I want work to be one meaningful part of my life, not its organizing principle.

I also think I’m less interested in achievement for its own sake. I want to make things I’m proud of, stay intellectually engaged and keep growing, but I’m increasingly asking whether something is actually worth my time rather than simply whether I can succeed at it. That feels like a pretty significant shift from the person I was ten or fifteen years ago.

What have you learned about happiness that your younger self wouldn’t have understood?

That apart from health, happiness is the only thing that matters in life.

If the second half of life has a theme or guiding principle for you, what would it be?

The phrase I come back to most often is “we only live once.” I know it’s a cliché, but I’ve always taken it quite seriously. I even have a small “1” tattooed on my wrist as a reminder that this is the only life I’ll get.

It’s about paying attention to the life I’m actually living. Am I spending my time in a way that feels true to me? Am I present enough to notice it? Am I making room for the things and people that make being alive feel good?

It’s a thought that has influenced the big decisions, from moving countries to changing direction in my career, but I think it matters just as much in the small, ordinary parts of life. There’s no later version of life where I suddenly get to go back and pay attention to all the things I was too busy to notice the first time around.

What does growing older mean to you now?

I am still a bit scared of it, to be honest. But I also see the value in it. For example, the other day I said happy birthday to a friend who just turned 30 and said that the 30s have been my favorite period of my life. And I believe that looking back, I will probably also say that about my 40s once I start looking back.

What are you still trying to figure out?

Honestly, quite a lot. I’m still trying to figure out how to build a life that leaves enough room for all the different parts of me. How to be a good mother and wife without disappearing into those roles, how ambitious I actually want to be, and what I want my work to mean to me at this stage of my life.

I’m also trying to figure out what I genuinely want when nobody is asking anything of me. I’ve spent so much time being responsive to work, family, and other people’s needs that I’m not always very good at identifying my own wants before they become practical necessities. I’m still learning the difference between what I actually care about and what I’ve simply become very good at caring about.

And, perhaps most importantly, I’m trying to figure out how to make the most of my time without turning life itself into another optimization project. I want to be ambitious without letting achievement consume me, intentional without becoming rigid, and interested in the world without constantly feeling like I should be doing more with it.

What belief about life have you changed your mind about?

I used to believe that a good life was something you built through the right decisions: choose the right career, live in the right place, be with the right person, make enough money, and eventually you’d arrive at a life that felt right. I still think our choices matter, but I’ve become much more suspicious of the idea that a perfect life configuration is waiting to be found.

Moving countries several times probably changed that for me. I’ve experienced how differently the same person can feel in different places, and how quickly something you thought you needed can become completely unimportant once your circumstances change. I’ve also learned that a life can look objectively good and still not feel like yours.

These days I believe less in getting life right and more in paying attention. What feels good now? What am I making time for? What am I tolerating because I once decided it was what I wanted? I’m much more comfortable with the idea that a good life is something you keep adjusting as you become a different person.

What are you trying to say “yes” to more these days?

I’m trying to say yes more often to things that don’t necessarily have a clear purpose. To curiosity, to interests that might not lead anywhere, to taking a detour because something looks interesting, to making time for something simply because I enjoy it.

I’m also trying to say yes to myself a little more. To the things I want before I’ve worked out whether they’re practical, productive, or useful to anyone else. I think adulthood can make you very good at filtering your own impulses through everyone else’s needs, and I’d like to get a little better at hearing what I actually want.

And I want to say yes to more of the small pleasures of being alive: a long lunch, a spontaneous train trip, getting dressed just because I like an outfit, wandering around a new neighborhood, inviting people over. Things that don’t necessarily add up to anything except a life that feels good while you’re living it.

What are you trying to say “no” to more these days?

Things that cross my boundaries. I don’t like to admit it, but I think I am a bit of a people pleaser because I like to avoid conflict.

What are you learning to let go of?

That everyone always has to think positively of me. It’s okay for people to be annoyed with me or even disappointed in me at times.

What feels more urgent now than it did ten years ago?

Being in the moment. I feel it every day with my daughter. She is growing up faster than I can quite comprehend, and it has made time feel much more tangible. Having a child has made me much more aware that some things are happening only once. She will only be this age today. There will be a last time she reaches for my hand in quite this particular way, a last time she wants to be carried everywhere, a last version of the little person she is right now. I don’t want to spend those moments mentally rushing ahead to the next thing.

What would make you look back and think, “I used my time well”?

I think I’d look back and feel that I used my time well if I had been genuinely present for the life I built. If I had given enough of myself to the people I love, especially my daughter, so that I didn’t spend her childhood constantly distracted.

I’d want to have made things, too. Written, traveled, created, followed my curiosity, changed my mind, moved somewhere new because it felt right. I’d want to have spent time on things that interested me simply because they interested me, rather than only on things that were useful or productive.

What do you hope people remember about you when you’re gone?

That they can do hard things and just go for what they want because they saw that that’s how I lived my life.

Big thanks to Katharina for taking the time to answer my questions, and as always, thanks for reading! Leave a comment or question for her below. 💬

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Name: Stephanie Jade Wong

Age: 34

Location: NY

Relationship status: In a serious, long-term relationship after meeting on a dating app a few years ago. We don’t live together, but you may say it’s “long distance” since we live in different boroughs.

Hobbies: Reading and trying new group fitness classes.

Personal or side projects: Reminding myself to journal more, trying to be more proactive about submitting creative writing.

Kids: As a child of divorce, when I was a teenager, I told myself I didn’t want children if I was going to be a single mom or if I got married and it ended in divorce. But the older I became, the more I realized how that original thought came from a place of hurt. I didn’t want to be disappointed or alone. Now, if the opportunity presented itself in the future, I’d be honored to have the chance to bring a life into the world and help shape their experiences with the type of care and love I wish I received.

Who are you, and what should we know about you right off the bat?

I’ve got a journalism background and currently work in marketing. I’m trying to find my way in the world and better communicate my emotions to those around me.

Is there a part of yourself that you’re hoping to rediscover in your second half of life?

I’d like to feel the freedom of sharing my true emotions and feelings in a way where I’m not afraid of others’ reactions or the outcomes. I’d like to be more brave and bold.

What do you care less about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?

Having the same opinions as others to fit in.

What do you care more about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?

True and meaningful friendships.

When you imagine a good life at 50, 60, 70, or 80, what does it look and feel like?

I’m active, eat nutritiously, don’t feel pain, and have genuine relationships in my life.

Have any major losses, disappointments, or life transitions changed how you think about your second half?

Time is short, and there’s no time to waste when it comes to living as you’d like.

What are you no longer willing to postpone?

I’m no longer willing to postpone my happiness to benefit others.

What role do work, achievement, or ambition play in your life today compared to earlier chapters?

I don’t need to be the top dog, but I’d like to be happy doing what I do on a daily basis. Some say it’s difficult to actually have your job be your passion, but it would be a different world for me if writing weren’t my main job. I always thought I’d want to climb that corporate ladder to be the one in charge, but I’ve realized it’s more about enjoying my work than anything. If I don’t believe in it, I can’t write about it.

What have you learned about happiness that your younger self wouldn’t have understood?

Happiness isn’t winning the trophy or getting the award. Happiness is the journey, the friends, and the realizations you discover in your daily life.

If the second half of life has a theme or guiding principle for you, what would it be?

Joy

What does growing older mean to you now?

Cultivating meaningful relationships not only with the people around me, but also with myself.

What are you still trying to figure out?

If I had grown up learning how to speak about my emotions and trusting others with ease, would I be able to do that better as an adult?

What belief about life have you changed your mind about?

Mother doesn’t always know best.

What are you trying to say “yes” to more these days?

Doing things with my friends that I wouldn’t do on my own, but I’m participating because my friend is interested and I want to support them.

What are you trying to say “no” to more these days?

To helping when my cup is too full.

What are you learning to let go of?

Judgment from others.

What feels more urgent now than it did ten years ago?

Cultivating meaningful relationships.

What would make you look back and think, “I used my time well”?

Feeling accomplished and good about the choices I made in life. I want to feel confident in my decisions, learn from mistakes, and have no regrets. Instead of always moving quickly to achieve as much as possible, I want to be able to reflect on the experiences I had and remember that life is about enjoyment as much as achievement.

What do you hope people remember about you when you’re gone?

That I was a great writer and that my thoughts and opinions didn’t just mirror others’, but that they were unique and that they mattered.

Big thanks to Stephanie for taking the time to answer my questions, and as always, thanks for reading! Leave a comment or question for her below. 💬

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In case you missed it, I’m raising money for Hilarity for Charity, a nonprofit that supports families affected by Alzheimer’s. My goal is to raise $1000 by January 1st, 2027. I’m currently at around $100 (thanks, Dad!). If you’d like to help, visit my fundraising page to donate. Thanks so much.

September is World Alzheimer’s Month, which I honestly didn’t know until I started doing research for my work-in-progress memoir. Coincidentally, my mom was diagnosed on World Alzheimer’s Day, September 21st.

I’ve been trying to find something meaningful to share during this time to help with Alzheimer’s awareness. I’ve realized that the hardest part—as someone witnessing it—was all the misconceptions around the disease, or just a general lack of understanding of all that it entails.

This is by no means an exhaustive list, and it’s in no particular order, but it’s what I wish more people knew about Alzheimer’s. At the end, I’ve shared information about raising money to help support Alzheimer’s caregivers.

1. It’s so much more than memory loss and forgetfulness—the TV remote becomes the telephone, playing cards become money, and cooking a meal becomes a foreign language, to name a few examples.

2. The person living with it changes almost daily, to the point that it feels like the disease has erased their personality.

3. That said, occasionally you recognize small parts of them from before Alzheimer’s. But it’s fleeting.

4. It’s hard when someone is still alive but doesn’t know to call you on your birthday, but it’s even harder when they’re no longer there for you to call them on your birthday and theirs.

5. You must meet them where they are, and that’s not always easy, but it is a great lesson in patience.

6. Eventually, they will need 24/7 supervision and care for their safety and your peace of mind.

7. You learn to love each new version of them; it’s challenging in the moment, but beautiful in retrospect.

8. In my mom’s case, she became uninhibited and said exactly what was on her mind; I loved it.

9. She also started drinking beer through a straw, which we found hilarious and supported.

10. I thought it wouldn’t feel that different after she died because I felt like I had already lost so much of her. But it’s SO DIFFERENT.

11. First you lose the person mentally, then physically.

12. “They’re in a better place now.” Or, “They’re no longer suffering.” Are, in theory, nice things to say, but they don’t really help. I prefer, “Alzheimer’s fucking sucks.”

13. Anticipatory grief is like holding your breath for a really, REALLY long time.

14. I don’t think many people understand anticipatory grief because we’re more accustomed to grieving someone once they’re gone. That’s ok, but it’s isolating.

15. You expect to feel relieved when it’s “over”, but in my case, I felt confused and somewhat numb at first.

16. In the later stages, I often wondered if my mom still recognized me, but then she’d say something like “Ok, honey.” Or at the very end, she kissed my cheek after I kissed hers, so I think somehow her body knew it was me.

17. In the end, it’s harder for those witnessing it than for the ones living with it, at least that’s how I feel.

18. You often wonder if you’re next and question your own mortality, especially if something slips your mind.

19. Becoming a caregiver—in any capacity—and then having that role end is a complete mind and identity fuck.

20. People will speak as though your loved one is not in the room, when they’re right next to you. You must advocate for your loved one because they no longer can.

21. Sometimes I wish I could forget the whole experience, but in the 1,563 days that my mom was living with Alzheimer’s, I learned a lot about her and myself that I may not have otherwise.

I’m sure I’ll think of more, but let’s leave it at 21 things for now.

I also want to share Hilarity for Charity with you. Founded by Lauren Miller Rogen and Seth Rogen after Lauren lost her mother to early-onset Alzheimer’s, the organization uses comedy and popular culture to make dementia and caregiving more visible. In 2025, HFC raised more than $28 million and provided more than 475,000 hours of free in-home care to families.

That’s huge. Especially considering that, according to the Alzheimer’s Association’s 2026 Facts and Figures report, an estimated 7.4 million Americans aged 65 and older are living with Alzheimer’s, a number projected to reach nearly 13 million by 2050. Nearly 13 million Americans already provide unpaid care to someone with Alzheimer’s or another type of dementia, amounting to more than 19 billion hours of unpaid care—and valued at more than $446 billion—in 2025 alone.

As always, thanks for reading!

Take care,

Alexis

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Around four years into living with Alzheimer’s, my mom fractured her hip, and she wasn’t in a state—mentally or physically—to recover from surgery. She became bedridden, and it marked the beginning of the end of her life. By then, Alzheimer’s had erased so much of her personality and cognitive abilities; she was no longer able to speak (at least not more than a few words at a time), she had to be fed, and with her recent hip injury, she was immobilized.

I had journaled every morning for a few years already (thanks to The Artist’s Way), but when I realized that my mom and I would never have another conversation, even though she was still technically alive, I started writing to her in my journal. Nothing fancy. Just a bit about my day and about how I was feeling about losing her.

I wrote while she was still alive, as her world got smaller and the possibility of losing her became harder to keep at a distance. I continued writing to her in my journal after she died, too. I still do it today. At some point, my journal became a record of ordinary things I might otherwise have forgotten, alongside thoughts I sometimes felt ashamed for having.

I didn’t start because someone recommended grief journaling, although a therapist did recommend writing letters to my mom to continue communicating with her when she stopped speaking. I didn’t think of it as grief journaling at the time.

You don’t need to know what you’re supposed to get out of a grief journal. You can begin with one sentence about today. Or, if there’s someone you wish you could speak to, you can begin with their name.

What is grief journaling?

Grief journaling is writing about a loss and what it’s like to live with it. You might write about the person you miss, a memory you want to keep, how you’re feeling today, or something you wish you could tell them. It can be a letter, a list, or a few sentences in your phone. You might also find yourself writing about things that feel too ugly to say out loud. That’s OK.

You can start before someone dies, too. When my mom had Alzheimer’s, I was grieving changes in our relationship while she was still here. Anticipatory grief—a term I had never heard before all this. You may write through a breakup, an illness, or an identity shift when life no longer looks the way you expected.

There’s no required schedule or right thing to say. You don’t have to share what you write, and you don’t have to find meaning in it. It’s simply about the process.

How grief journaling helped me

At first, I wrote to my mom while she was still alive. Alzheimer’s had made our conversations unpredictable, but in my journal, I could tell her what was happening in my life without wondering whether she would understand or remember it. I could also write about what was happening to her, and how hard it was to watch.

After she died, I kept writing to her. Although I didn’t start my entries with “Mom,” I used “you” instead of “Mom,” because it felt more natural and, in retrospect, more soothing than writing about her, as though she were suddenly only a subject in a story. Some days I had a lot to say. Other days, I jotted down how I slept the night before or complained about something my boyfriend did that annoyed me.

I’m glad I have those pages now. They hold details from her final months that I might have lost otherwise. Things she did, things I noticed, special moments we had, and things I was thinking (that felt ugly or contradictory) before I knew how things would unfold. As I write about my mom in my work-in-progress memoir, I can return to what I actually felt at the time instead of relying entirely on what I remember now.

I can’t say journaling made losing her easier, but it gave me somewhere to keep talking to her—even after she died.

Will grief journaling make you feel better?

It has helped me, but I’m wary of telling someone who is grieving that writing will make them feel better. For me, the journal has been a place to say things to my mom and to keep a record of a time I was afraid I’d forget. I can’t confirm that it reduced my grief, but it helped—and continues to help—me get through it. I’ve learned that grief doesn’t have a clean start and end date. It’s continuous, maybe forever. It’s love without a place to go.

I wouldn’t suggest grief journaling as something you need to do to “heal.” You might find that writing gives you somewhere to put a thought you keep circling or helps you remember a detail about someone you love. You might try it and decide you’d rather talk, walk, make something, or sit quietly. That’s OK, too.

How to start grief journaling

You can start with whatever is closest: a notebook, the Notes app on your phone, a document on your computer. Pick something you can open without making a project of it. You don’t need a new journal, a daily routine, or even a plan to keep going.

If a blank page is starting back at you, just write one sentence about today. What happened? What do you miss? What annoyed you? You can make a list of things you remember about someone or write down a detail you’re afraid of forgetting. You can stop after a minute. You also don’t have to reread any of it.

Try writing to the person you miss

This is how I began writing about my mom. Instead of trying to explain my feelings about her and what we were all going through, I started writing to her.

Then I wrote what I would have told her if we’d been able to have that conversation. Sometimes that meant writing about her or about us. Sometimes it meant telling her about my day.

You can try the same thing with the name you would normally use. Tell them something small that happened this week. Ask a question you still have. Write about something that made you laugh, or something you’re angry about. The letter doesn’t have to be finished, and it doesn’t have to say anything profound.

If writing starts to feel overwhelming, then stop. Come back another time, or don’t. I’ll leave it to you to decide what feels useful and what doesn’t.

25 grief journaling prompts

You don’t have to work through these in order, or at all. But if you’re looking for inspiration or a starting point, pick one that resonates with you today, but feel free to tweak it so it works for you.

When you don’t know what to write

1. What happened today that I wish I could tell them?

2. What has been the hardest part of this week?

3. What is one thing I’m tired of explaining to other people?

4. If I wrote only three words about today, what would they be?

5. What do I need right now that I haven’t asked for?

Writing to the person you miss

6. What ordinary thing would I tell you about if I could call you today?

7. What question do I still want to ask you?

8. What have I been wanting to say to you but keep putting off writing down?

9. What would make you laugh about my life right now?

10. Is there something I’m angry with you about, even though I miss you?

Memories you want to keep

11. What small habit of theirs do I never want to forget?

12. What did their voice sound like when they were excited, irritated, or trying not to laugh?

13. What memory of us wouldn’t mean much to anyone else?

14. What did they do that I didn’t appreciate until later?

15. Is there a story about them that I’ve told so often I’m afraid I’m forgetting the rest?

Complicated feelings

16. What am I relieved about, and why is it hard to say?

17. What do I wish had been different between us?

18. When have I felt guilty for enjoying myself?

19. What am I angry about today? Does the answer change from day to day?

20. What part of my grief feels hardest to share with someone else?

Grieving before and after a loss

21. What has already changed, and what is still here?

22. What did I think I would have more time to do or say?

23. What is one detail about this period of our lives I want to record while I remember it?

24. What feels different about an ordinary day now?

25. What do I want to tell them about the person I’m becoming?

What if writing makes you feel worse?

Sometimes writing brings me closer to something I wasn’t ready to address. It’s hard, but I like to keep going. If that happens to you, you can choose to stop. It doesn’t mean you’ve failed at grief journaling.

You could also write about something less painful: what you ate together, a phrase they used, or what the room looked like the last time you visited. You can make a list of facts without trying to explain how you feel about them. And if even that feels like too much, just stop. It’s all up to you.

A journal can be somewhere to put your thoughts, but if your grief is making it hard to get through everyday life, tell someone you trust and consider speaking with a mental health professional. This guide is not meant to be medical advice.

You don’t have to turn grief into a lesson

When I look back through my journal, I’m not searching for proof that I’ve grown from losing my mom. I’m looking for her. I’m looking for the little things I noticed while she was still here, and for what I wanted to tell her after she died.

Some entries will become part of the memoir I’m writing, but I’ll keep many just for me. I’m glad I have them either way.

If you start a grief journal, you don’t have to find the right words or arrive at a new understanding by the end of the page. It can be as messy or neat as it needs to be—see what feels best to you. You can write down what happened. You can tell someone you miss that you miss them. Then, if you want to, you can do it again another day.

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Name: Niki DiGaetano (aka )

Age: 30

Location: Salt Lake City, Utah

Relationship status: Engaged

Hobbies: Writing, running, rock climbing, weight lifting, playing classical guitar…badly

Personal or side projects: I’m writing a book about how my 900-mile Appalachian Trail hike helped me embrace my calling as a death doula, and how both taught me what it meant to live.

Occupation: Graphic designer, death doula, and aspiring clinical mental health therapist (coming 2029!).

Kids: No kids! I am child-free by choice; my death doula work and my (eventual) clinical work as a therapist are the callings of my soul. While I know many women—incredibly—manage to balance both a career and children, I don’t know if I’d be one of them. And what’s more important is I never felt a tug towards motherhood. Nothing in my heart leaps when I see a baby. Sometimes I wish I felt that desire… but I’m learning it’s okay that I don’t.

Who are you, and what should we know about you right off the bat?

Hi! I’m Niki! I love cats. And hiking. I once backpacked 900 miles on the Appalachian Trail, and it completely changed the trajectory of my life. I got up close and personal with end-of-life following an angst-ridden career crisis that resulted in me becoming a hospice volunteer, then a death doula (a support person for all things death and grief). I staunchly believe talking about death is crucial to our well-being. Not only is it practical (literally everyone will need to do it someday), but it’s a powerful way to cultivate gratitude, humility, and intention in this little thing we call Life.

Is there a part of yourself that you’re hoping to rediscover in your second half of life?

Honestly? Probably not. In a lot of ways, I’m growing further away from the person I used to be as a teenager and in my 20s… and I’m okay with that because she was kind of miserable! I like this version of myself a lot more: a woman who is calmer, more grounded, more confident. A woman who loves being alive. I’ve retained my endless drive and my fiery nature (those will probably never change!), but I’ve become less abrasive and polarizing in how I move through the world. Calmer, more gentle and approachable. And I like that.

What do you care less about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?

Failing. I’m still nervous about it, but I’m way more likely to “just send it” and try than never do anything. Nowadays, what I fear more is regretting that I didn’t take a chance rather than simply trying and finding out I’m not cut out for it.

What do you care more about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?

Conserving my energy and working in bursts rather than never-ending slogs. I try to honor my capacity more. If I notice I’m going extra hard, I’ll try my best to spend some time doing nothing: a full decompress. Hot tea in bed. A nice, brainless book (i.e., not related to death and grief literature). I guess it feels like a less glamorized version of “work hard, play hard.”

When you imagine a good life at 60, 70, or 80, what does it look and feel like?

That’s a very different question, depending on all those different decades! For 60 and 70, I’d like to have a small but lovely home, where I live with my wonderful husband.

We travel often and have had fruitful careers… we are both possibly still working part-time (he as an engineer, me as a therapist and doula). I hope to continue strength training and moving my body as much as possible. I still remember the white-bearded men and white-haired women my fiancé and I met on the Appalachian Trail. All were decades older than us. At the time, we were all hiking through Connecticut, but they had been trekking since Georgia, some 1,000+ miles ago.

I’d love for that to be us someday. When I’m in my 80s, I hope to have located a good death doula whom I trust to guide my husband and me through our final chapter. Since we don’t have children (maybe that will change, but we doubt it), I do think about who will care for us when we’re old and infirm. I hope having a doula around will help us be resourced when that time comes.

Have any major losses, disappointments, or life transitions changed how you think about your second half?

My grandfather, with whom I was close, died when I was seventeen. His death would eventually pave the way for my interest in working in end-of-life, but it was not enough to split my life into a “before” and “after.”

That happened in 2022, when everything I’d been chasing abruptly collapsed: a half-decade relationship, my housing, and all the plans I’d been laying.

What followed was my long Appalachian Trail walk, which helped me cement three things:

1. The relationship I’d contorted myself into complacency to preserve was long dead.

2. Contentment and presence could be cultivated anywhere, at any moment; I could be full of joy while hiking along the Trail and celebrate each time I reached a goal, like crossing the next state line.

3. I learned what it meant to truly, deeply love being alive. That journey helped me embody the teachings of death work that I’d learned years earlier but never fully embraced.

What are you no longer willing to postpone?

Feeling joyful. Celebrating little wins. I used to put off both in the endless pursuit of more achievements. Doing more hands-on death doula work in my local community (not just online); I’ve hidden behind imposter syndrome long enough.

What role do work, achievement, or ambition play in your life today compared to earlier chapters?

I’m still quite ambitious… maybe more than when I was a teenager. But the shape of my drive has shifted. It’s no longer all-consuming the way it used to be. My ambition to tell the whole world about death doulas, to educate and support my community, and to be a competent therapist no longer stands in the way of my own happiness. I can pursue those things while simultaneously living and celebrating each day… even the monotonous ones.

What have you learned about happiness that your younger self wouldn’t have understood?

That it’s okay, beautiful—required, even—to seek joy in the mundane, in the everyday. I’ve learned happiness does not live only on top of the next big milestone or achievement. Be happy where you are while pursuing those things… or get ready for years of misery while you refuse to be satisfied.

If the second half of life has a theme or guiding principle for you, what would it be?

Living with intention… and that can and will shift season to season. Being way nicer to myself! Being less of a rigid control freak.

What does growing older mean to you now?

It looks like befriending myself—becoming closer and closer to someone each day that I actually like being around.

For me, growing older inevitably includes thinking more and more about my own mortality. That’s probably a side effect of my doula work. I have to sit with the reality: Ten years ago, I was such a munchkin. 20 years old. Here I am at 30. What will I be like in 10 more years? I’ll be 40. Who will I be?

As the saying goes: I am one day closer to my death… how will I live this day?

What are you still trying to figure out?

At this very moment? How the hell I’m going to continue with my day job as a graphic designer (required to pay my bills) along with my upcoming master’s program in counseling (beginning in a few weeks), along with acting on a list of community death education projects. There’s a lot on my plate, and though I’m loving every second of it, I’m trying to reconcile everything I want to do with everything I’ll actually have time to do.

What belief about life have you changed your mind about?

That life is a prescriptive set of steps and rules. Success means very different things to different people. It means different things to me than it used to!

What are you trying to say “yes” to more these days?

My mentor turned me onto the concept of “Shoot Your Shot Wednesdays,” and I’ve leaned oh-so-hard into it! Basically, if my intuition (or an idea falls into my brain out of the sky) pings me with an idea, I act on it.

What if I reach out to that old contact? Text sent. How about offering to lead a grief workshop for the caretakers at my local animal shelter? Proposal written.

This would have terrified me when I was younger. Now I take more of a “Fuck it, let’s go!” approach. The worst they can say is no.

What are you trying to say “no” to more these days?

Pointless busywork that doesn’t get me any closer to my goals. Meetings at work that run overtime. Giving anyone my phone number. (You can contact me via email and that’s good enough; no one needs instant access to my attention.)

What are you learning to let go of?

The need to be perfect all the time. It’s a sticky one that refuses to let go! I have a feeling that I’m never good enough at my desired craft. And I need to release that and trust I can just Do The Thing.

What feels more urgent now than it did ten years ago?

Time with the people I love. Especially with those I don’t see as much, due to geographic separation. Maybe my death doula work warps my lens of time, but I feel an urgency to be with my loved ones.

And also moving my body. As someone with 2.5 desk jobs who just crash-landed into her 30’s, the reminder that I’m not invincible is ever-present. “Use it or lose it” sometimes blares through my mind when I think about preserving my physical capabilities.

What would make you look back and think, “I used my time well”?

I would want to know I lived my days with intention. I sleepwalked through much of my earlier years, living on autopilot, running on the hamster wheel. Whatever is the antithesis of autopilot is how I want to live the remainder of my life: Awake. Authentic. Full of life.

What do you hope people remember about you when you’re gone?

That if you were in my life, I loved you deeply, and I showed it. Often. That I had strong ideals and did my best each day to live them out. That I tried my best to leave this world a better place for my having existed briefly in it. There’s this line at the end of a song I love, “I just want to know that I did all I could with what I was given.”

Big thanks to Niki for taking the time to answer my questions, and as always, thanks for reading! Leave a comment or question for her below. 💬

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Full name:

Age: 52

Location: Hutto, Texas

Relationship status: Married

Hobbies: Reading, hiking, cooking

Personal or side projects: Mostly freelancing and ghostwriting; no time for side projects!

Kids: I have an 8-year-old son and had him late via IVF since I met my husband “late” in life.

Who are you, and what should we know about you right off the bat?

I’m a Texas-based journalist and author and a frequent contributor to the New York Times, Texas Monthly, Slate, and more. I focus on lifestyle, culture, and entertainment, both essays and reported pieces. I’ve written two books of essays. My most recent, So Sorry For Your Loss, was called “a poignant, personal exploration of grief” by Publishers Weekly. I’ve been ghostwriting celebrity books for close to ten years as well.

Is there a part of yourself that you’re hoping to rediscover in your second half of life?

I would love to find my connection to music again; it was so important to me growing up, and in my 20s and 30s. My first dream was to write novels, so I’d love to pump the brakes on ghostwriting at some point and write fiction.

What do you care less about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?

Being “cool” or seeming cool. I am so not cool to my son (ha), and I find it funny. I’m not concerned with liking a song someone else thinks is lame, for example. I’m not going to start dying my hair purple and wearing muumuus, but I’m comfortable in who I am and what I’m into. I always tell my son, “I’d rather be weird than boring.” It’s our little mantra.

What do you care more about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?

Health, and getting screened and checked for anything I can. After losing my mom to colon cancer, I’m not messing around with that stuff. I hate that I smoked in the 90s, but we were so “whatever” about so many things then.

When you imagine a good life at 50, 60, 70, or 80, what does it look and feel like?

Being healthy and strong, pitching and writing things I’m excited about, having lots of time to read books, going to museums and movies and enjoying NOT working my ass off. :)

Watching my son grow up and traveling with my husband. Living somewhere that’s in nature, but that does not require me to do a lot of yard work since right now I weed, mow, and trim trees. I’ll be over all that when I’m 60, 70, and 80.

Have any major losses, disappointments, or life transitions changed how you think about your second half?

Losing my mom and sister for sure. It does make you conscious of the fact that the time we have isn’t a given. It’s hard to live in the moment all the time, but those losses make me grateful for what I have, and I know that when I get close to my late 60s, which is when my mom died, it will feel strange. It also shifted my opinion of what “old” is. In my 20s and 30s, your 70s was old. Now I see the 70s as not young, but not old. My sister was 40 when she died, so I hate thinking she didn’t get a second half.

What are you no longer willing to postpone?

Medical checkups! Telling someone I love them. Travel, writing about something that fascinates me. I also take a yearly trip with my friends from college, and that’s a key in life. We started the trips right after my mom died, and we would never postpone our time together. It’s crucial.

What role do work, achievement, or ambition play in your life today compared to earlier chapters?

I’m less anxious and more at ease in my work now. My 20s and 30s were such a struggle, and I was all over the place, trying to find my way. I waited tables, had crap corporate jobs. It wasn’t until my 40s that I could say I’m a professional writer. I’m less scared to pitch certain publications, or go out with a crazy idea. It’s way easier to brush off a rejection too. In the actual process of writing, I’m more confident for sure. I still have panic moments, but I know I can get through them. I’m less ambitious about driving myself into the ground to be “the best.” I’d love to write more books, but I’m also ok easing up and enjoying my life.

What have you learned about happiness that your younger self wouldn’t have understood?

That it doesn’t necessarily come from the explosive, dramatic moments. I used to think living in a big city and having a “big” life was what would make me happy. Now I live in a small Texas town on 8 acres of land, and I find happiness in my son, my family, and checking our wildlife camera to see what was out there in the night. My younger self would be totally shocked by all of this. That self figured I’d be living in Paris and being the next Anaïs Nin.

If the second half of life has a theme or guiding principle for you, what would it be?

Go easy on yourself, and hug the people you love. I guess the theme would be ease, but that does not mean easy.

What does growing older mean to you now?

Settling into a face or body you might not recognize, but that you need to accept and even love. Taking care of yourself, staying youthful for my son. It means not surrendering to the fact that in the eyes of society, your age means you’re not as relevant as a 20-year-old influencer.

What are you still trying to figure out?

How to age gracefully. Meaning, not agonize about it. If anyone has a secret, please let me know! But I do remind myself I am lucky as hell to have this day, this moment. My sister lost a friend, a young mom with four kids in her 30s. When I start griping about getting older, I remind myself how lucky I am to be here now. Lucky to have the wrinkles.

What belief about life have you changed your mind about?

That it’s fair. Losing my mom and sister made that pretty clear. I miss them every day, but I don’t let that ache ruin my days.

What are you trying to say “yes” to more these days?

Writing something that might scare me or intimidate me. Pitching places that might seem impossible. The first time I got a yes from the New York Times Magazine, I remember being so thrilled, but then my immediate thought was, “Oh shit.” It was so intimidating, but that was part of the thrill.

What are you trying to say “no” to more these days?

Things I don’t want to write, and ghostwriting projects. I’m not doing a good job with the latter, and I need to get better at that. The money is great, but as I get older I’m not as excited by it, and I find myself wishing I could put that time into my own book.

What are you learning to let go of?

Hateful comments, people who have their own issues. I don’t let it bother me as much.

What feels more urgent now than it did ten years ago?

Loving the people in my life and expressing that love (my dog included). Spending time with my dad and sisters, giving my son time with his cousins and grandparents. When my mom died, it became imperative that I see my sisters and dad more.

What would make you look back and think, “I used my time well”?

That I’m surrounded by family and friends, meaning I spent time with people I care about. That I feel proud of the work I’ve left behind.

What do you hope people remember about you when you’re gone?

That I was kind. I always tell my kid that’s the most important thing. You don’t want to be the one people remember as the jerk in high school.

Big thanks to Dina for taking the time to answer my questions, and as always, thanks for reading! Leave a comment or question for her below, and find her on Instagram and Substack. 💬

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Each afternoon, I’d go home, eat lunch, and then zone out while I binge-watched Shameless (so good!). I’m not complaining. But it didn’t leave much headspace for other things.

Now the challenge is finding a way to stick to it. My plan is to spend 15-30 minutes each afternoon studying and, hopefully, overcome my fear of speaking by ordering more in Dutch at restaurants and cafés.

The thing is, Amsterdam is so international that the staff are often expats and also do not speak Dutch. It’s also hard to learn because Dutch people speak English so well (at least in Amsterdam) and they always switch to English when they realize you have no idea what you’re saying. But I’m gonna try to keep going!

Now, onto the books…

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Exit Interview by

In this memoir, Kristi Coulter chronicles her toxic experience working at Amazon for 12 years until she eventually quit. Here’s a great review that explains it way better than I ever will.

I was initially intrigued by the subtitle, “The Life and Death of My Ambitious Career” because I’ve been rethinking my career and ambitions lately. I don’t have any concrete plans aside from working on my first book (alongside my freelance work), but earlier this year, I thought I had lost my ambition, and now I’m realizing it has simply been redirected. I’d love to know a bit more about where Kristi is now—I hope she’s working on another book, though I cannot find any mention of it on her website or social media.

Selfish, Shallow, and Self-Absorbed edited by

This anthology is a collection of beautifully written essays—mainly by women—who are childfree by choice. As someone who doesn’t have or want kids, I related to some part of every essay. It was interesting to learn about other people’s stories on the topic and how they arrived at their choice. I’d recommend it to anyone who’s on the fence and wants to read about other people’s experiences.

Other—shorter reads—I’ve recently enjoyed

• I’m Begging You: Never Write With A.I. (gift link)

• The Case for Mediocrity

• They Went Abroad to Save Money. Moving Back Seems Unaffordable. (gift link)

• Release Notes: Woman™ Version 51.0

What have you read recently? What’s on your TBR list? Please share in the comments!

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Take care,

Alexis

P.S. It would mean a lot to me if you hit the ♡ button to help others find this post. Also, if you’re able to upgrade your subscription or share my work with a friend, I would be so grateful! Thanks so much.

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Name:

Age: 50

Location: Outside Atlantic City, NJ

Relationship status: In a long-term relationship

Hobbies: Jigsaw puzzles, reading, walking

Personal or side projects: Finders and Keepers podcast

Occupation: Freelance writer and editor-in-chief of Open Secrets Magazine

Kids: I have a very energetic and adorable toddler.

Who are you, and what should we know about you right off the bat?

I’m a mom, a writer, editor, and podcaster. I’m pretty nerdy and introverted but also love people.

Is there a part of yourself that you’re hoping to rediscover in your second half of life?

I’m hoping to be a better friend and develop new friendships, to be the kind of mom who’s there for my daughter and sets her up to pursue her dreams, while also figuring out my own creative dreams and ambitions and following the ones that make the most sense for my life.

What do you care less about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?

Social media and trying to impress strangers.

What do you care more about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?

My family and the way my home looks and feels.

When you imagine a good life at 50, 60, 70, or 80, what does it look and feel like?

Doing work that’s meaningful to me but doesn’t add undue stress to my life, feeling mentally and physically healthy, and hopefully making a positive impact on the larger world in some way.

Have any major losses, disappointments, or life transitions changed how you think about your second half?

My grandfather’s death this spring shook me a lot, even though it wasn’t unexpected since he was 102. He was a role model to me in many ways in terms of caring for his family, writing the book he’d dreamed of for decades in his eighties, and leaving his mark on the world. He always seemed younger than his age and was physically active until the very end. Losing him, and going through infertility in my forties, have made me more aware of the limited amount of time I have left and how easy it is to let days/weeks/years pass by without being as fully present as I could be.

What are you no longer willing to postpone?

Enjoying my leisure time without guilt.

What role do work, achievement, or ambition play in your life today compared to earlier chapters?

While I still have dreams and goals, I’m reformulating them for this period of my life when those are secondary to raising my daughter. I’ve spent almost my entire career chasing goals and feeling like if I’m not obsessing about them 24/7, I’m not really committed to them. I’m trying to leave that mindset behind and make better strategic use of my time, rather than trying to do everything and feeling like I’ve accomplished nothing. I’m thinking more about if, when, and how work can fit into my life, rather than crafting my entire life around work. I’m also becoming more okay with letting my personal projects percolate and take longer than they might have if I were working on them around the clock.

What have you learned about happiness that your younger self wouldn’t have understood?

It’s a cliché, but I’ve learned that happiness has to stem from an internal source; otherwise all the external praise in the world feels meaningless.

If the second half of life has a theme or guiding principle for you, what would it be?

Change. I feel like every time I think I have a handle on who I am, I discover new facets of myself, often the opposite of who I was and what I prioritized.

What does growing older mean to you now?

It means that I’m embracing my fifties and not trying to keep up with what people younger than me are doing (or people older than me). I’m trying to figure out my own path rather than what anyone else is dictating for me. Some days I’m more successful at that than others.

What are you still trying to figure out?

How to integrate my passion projects into my life without letting them take over. My ADHD often takes over and tells me that if I’m not doing something perfectly or the most optimized way, I might as well not even bother. I’m trying to figure out other ways to approach the work I enjoy so I can still enjoy it.

What belief about life have you changed your mind about?

I used to think that I needed the rush of bylines and achievements to feel proud of myself. Over the past few months, I’ve been moving far away from that mindset and not putting pressure on myself to always be creating, in hopes that someone else will deem me praiseworthy. That is, and has been, a huge and challenging shift, but it’s also made me appreciate all the more personal moments that make me proud in my daily life.

What are you trying to say “yes” to more these days?

Leisure and pleasure. I spent decades always tempering my downtime with mental to-do lists and feeling guilty if I wasn’t always hustling. I still have things I want to achieve, but not at the cost of my mental health.

What are you trying to say “no” to more these days?

Busywork. There’s an endless amount of promotion I could be doing for Open Secrets and Finders and Keepers, and much of it feels futile and cuts into time I could be writing or generating new ideas.

What are you learning to let go of?

On a very literal level, I’m letting go of a lot of my belongings. I’m shipping the erotica books I edited and collected during the first 20 years of my career to the University of Nevada, Las Vegas so that they can be useful to those interested in the genre. I’m trying to downsize now in case I ever move and for the sake of my daughter, while also trying to use and savor the belongings I have rather than constantly seeking out new ones.

What feels more urgent now than it did ten years ago?

I’m not sure. I actually feel like I’m trying to treat fewer things as urgent, because often the way my brain works is that I’ll consider even tiny things “urgent” and then feel stressed around the clock, and actually urgent things will just add to my overwhelm. I’m rediscovering what my life and creativity are like without so much urgency. This de-escalation isn’t my natural tendency; I tend to fill any gaps in my schedule with tasks I deem urgent to make me feel useful and important, but that actually don’t need to be done quickly and don’t need to weigh on my mind. I’m using this time in my life, when I’m mainly focused on motherhood, to set fewer professional deadlines for myself and explore where my instincts and interests take me without heaping on additional internal pressure, even if the end result isn’t something I can brag about on social media (or anywhere else).

What would make you look back and think, “I used my time well”?

My daughter being confident and independent while still seeking out my opinion as she gets older, devoting myself to my writing without caring about the outcome. She’s the center of my world, and I love that I get to teach her about life, language, and art, and to explore the world with her.

What do you hope people remember about you when you’re gone?

On a professional level, that I did my best to lift up other writers and collaborate with them in assorted ways, and on a personal level, I hope people remember me as someone who was caring and kind.

Big thanks to Rachel for taking the time to answer my questions, and as always, thanks for reading! Leave a comment or question for her below. 💬

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The other day I was chatting with a friend on the phone about how we’re both in the midst of evaluating our careers (among other areas of our lives) and how ideally we’d like to make some changes on all fronts. The next day, I popped into a “life forty plus” channel in a women’s online networking group, and saw a message from a community member that said something along the lines of wanting to blow up her life to live in a van, travel around, and waitress here and there to fund her life. Then she asked if that was normal at her age; she’s in her mid-forties. About 20 other women, including me, replied to reassure her that it is and that she’s not alone. How exciting is it to be a woman in your 40s, ready to light a torch and blow shit up?

But the more I thought about it, I wondered whether we truly want to reinvent ourselves in such extreme ways—as in blowing up our lives—or if we just feel like we should because now that we’re in our 40s it’s time to shake things up or finally figure out what the fuck we’re doing with our lives?

Most of what I read online about midlife reinvention talks about doing less, saying no, listening to what our bodies really want, yada yada. I must admit, it’s relatable, but I can’t help but feel like it’s just as prescriptive as “X ways to [insert some big societal normative achievement]”.

It’s still about improving or optimizing this and that so we can feel like we’re moving in the right direction, which is usually forward or up. You spent your 20s and 30s optimizing your career, building a family, or both. Congratulations! Now it’s time to optimize your authenticity and find your life’s purpose. I don’t know about you, but I still have no freakin clue what I’m doing with my life, and the more I force “figuring it out”, the more insane it makes me feel.

That said, after turning 40—and specifically since my mom died and I began questioning my own mortality and how short life is—I’ve been reconsidering a lot of what I used to equate with life success. Things like money, climbing the career ladder, doing things to please or get approval from others, and so on. I’m not living under a rock or on water and sunshine; I understand the importance of earning enough to live your desired lifestyle, but more is not always better.

Maybe instead of blowing up our lives, it’s more about shedding what was once imposed on us, or what we chose at a specific time because it felt right then, and editing down to what we actually care about now. Perhaps there are also some things we’ve always cared about but were too afraid to admit or pursue because they might mean we were too disruptive or unconventional.

But trailblazing comes with its own challenges. There are no “normal” milestones or accomplishments that are widely celebrated when you choose a less conventional path in life, making it easy to question whether you’re doing things right. Like why isn’t anyone throwing me a baby shower when I buy a new plant baby? Just saying. I have almost 20, and they’re all still alive and thriving. Let’s celebrate!

What I wonder is if men are also bombarded with midlife reinvention headlines, or is it ok to just have a midlife crisis and get on with it? For some reason, the idea of a midlife crisis feels a lot easier than a reinvention, at least to me. Or what about calling it “midlife shedding”—a time to peel back all the layers you’ve accumulated in life so far to find out what’s really at the core, under all the armor you’ve layered on during the first half of your life. Or maybe it doesn’t need to be named at all.

Yet here I am, trying to figure out how I want to live the second half of my life, even going so far as to ask other people how they’re thinking about the second half of theirs. I just can’t help myself… I guess midlife existential dread loves company.

Has “reinvention season” just become a trend now that millennial women are sick of the hustle culture that we grew up with? You’re in you’re 40s, you’re entering midlife, it’s time to quit your job, become a solopreneur who generates passive income working only two hours a day, move to an island, start a hobby business, get divorced (unless you’re like me and you already did that in your 30s, oops), say “no” (full stop) to everything, and also look fabulous (and like you haven’t aged a day). Oh, and do it ALL at once.

When did getting older require becoming someone entirely new overnight or ever?

I think so often it feels like we need to have it all together all the time and that slowly changing and evolving without any big announcements means it’s not actually happening. Or it’s not happening fast enough or in a measurable way.

What’s next? Reinvention reveal parties? Do we really need to make some big statement or set off fireworks to announce what we’re not putting up with anymore or what big changes we’re making in our lives?

What if all it requires is pausing long enough to notice what’s essential to us right now, so we can keep what fits and discard the rest, exposing a version of ourselves that makes sense in this season of our lives. I’m not trying to be all preachy, and I’m pretty sure I’ve contradicted myself a few times already (and I will continue to do so—it’s a human condition!), but I worry that by constantly trying to figure out exactly who we’re becoming or who we’re meant to be in some distant future, we’re overlooking all the good things happening right now. I’m typing this now as a reminder to myself as well. I’m guilty of living in the past or the future at times.

So then, back to my question. Is midlife reinvention just a trap?

Not exactly. I think we become trapped when we believe that “reinvention” needs to be dramatic, or even needs to be defined at all. We are human. We are meant to change and evolve. I think most of our lives are spent in the “messy middle,” in periods of experimentation, and that’s what keeps it interesting. Whether we’re aware of it or not, I think we have many seasons in life.

So maybe this is my plea (and reminder to myself) to drop the pressure around this performative act of declaring exactly how we’re changing and reinventing ourselves today, right this second, because we’re constantly evolving in every phase of our lives, and that’s good enough.

What do you think?

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Thanks for reading,

Alexis

P.S. It would mean a lot to me if you hit the ♡ button to help others find this post. If you’re able to upgrade your subscription or share my work with a friend, I would be so grateful! Thank you so much. (Also, I don’t have an editor, so pardon any misplaced commas or run-on sentences; I’m human. 🤗)

Note: The beautiful artwork used for this piece is from artist and sculptor Juca Máximo’s Write Your Story collection.

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Name:

Age: 42

Location: Barcelona, Spain

Relationship status: Single

Hobbies: Writing, running (former Ironman & marathoner, now here for all the fun runs), reading (mostly fiction), traveling, hiking, personal development, finding the best coffee and co-working cafes, sending 20-minute voice notes to friends back home.

Personal or side projects: Not sure if it’s a “project”, but raising my daughter has been my primary focus for the last four years. Writing on Substack is a passion of mine, and I’d like to dedicate more time to it and grow.

Occupation: I’m a heartbreak and relationship coach for single women. I launched my coaching business in 2017 after going through the worst heartbreak of my life, and now it’s my mission to help other single women heal their hearts too.

At times, I get paid for my writing—ghostwriting (for Forbes), content creation (for other coaches and small businesses), articles (mostly travel-related or personal, like this juicy essay about my divorce in HuffPost).

I’ve also dabbled in business coaching, international business development, and community management. I’m always up for new projects that are 1) remote and 2) bring me joy.

Kids: I have a daughter who will be turning four soon. I got pregnant (unexpectedly and divinely) at 38. Having a child has absolutely shaped how I feel about literally everything.

Who are you, and what should we know about you right off the bat?

My divorce at 32 changed the trajectory of my life.

I went from following a very traditional American path, with all the (made-up) American rules—school, grad school, climbing the corporate ladder, striving for a ring—to someone who left it all behind for a more unconventional life abroad.

I’ve backpacked and solo traveled. I’ve had some of the best years of my life living in Mexico City and Rome. Today, I’m a single mom living in Spain, co-parenting with my ex from Italy.

It’s funny how opposite these two versions of me are. Each one had its season, but I can’t imagine going back to how things were before.

Is there a part of yourself that you’re hoping to rediscover in your second half of life?

Continuing to tap more into my creative side!

I was very into music as a child and took piano lessons through university. And then, I stopped, almost overnight. Maybe it was because I didn’t have a piano of my own. Perhaps it was because I kept moving. Maybe it was because I was so into what my boyfriend was doing at the time (lifting weights), or that I didn’t have my parents harping on me to practice one hour a day every single day. For whatever reason, I completely let this side of me go for more than 20 years. I miss it, and I’m so ready to get it back.

What do you care less about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?

I definitely care less about my relationship status. In my 20s, I was in a long-term relationship and found myself waiting for a ring. I was even on a game show where my nickname was the “Aspiring Fiance”. How embarrassing!

In my 30s, I “finally” got married… and then we quickly divorced. You can read more about that here and here.

After this shocking event, my entire world shifted, and I found myself caring much less about the sanctuary of marriage. It took time (and a lot of work and healing), but now I find it absolutely fantastic to be single. In fact, I’ve built my entire personal brand around it.

That said, I will happily open space for someone who enhances my life. I don’t feel the need to be in a traditional relationship just for the sake of it.

What do you care more about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?

I think about our mortality much more now, whereas I barely gave it a second thought 10 years ago. I’m not sure if this is something that came with age or with having a child, but I am painstakingly aware that my time on earth is finite.

Consequently, I care much more about taking care of my mental and physical health. I want to be around for as much of my daughter’s life as possible.

When you imagine a good life at 60, 70, or 80, what does it look and feel like?

Fortunately, I have some good role models to help me answer this question. What immediately comes to mind is freedom and family.

60s: My mom once told me she’s sad she won’t be able to read all the books ever written. She reads more than anyone I know and definitely knows how to relax! She travels internationally to visit us each year (often multiple times), and is a wonderful mom to her three daughters and Oma to her four grandkids.

is 66 and has become one of my closest friends in Barcelona. She’s a natural networker and social butterfly. (We met on Substack!) I love her story of boldly starting over and moving to a new country alone in this decade of life.

70s: My dad travels more than I do (and is not the best at relaxing). After spending most of his years traveling for work, he now travels for leisure—to a second home in Ecuador, to volunteer in Vietnam, or to visit his daughter and granddaughter in Europe. My mom accompanies him on these trips whenever she pleases, but he has the stamina for trains, planes, and time zone changes that most do not.

80s: My Nana was the matriarch of our family. As she grew older, we always came to her home in Boston to celebrate Christmas. I have the fondest memories of her sing-songy voice, her delicious Italian-American cooking, and the countless times we all gathered around the table to play games, shout, and laugh way too loudly late into the night. What a dream to be surrounded by so much joy and laughter well into your final years.

Have any major losses, disappointments, or life transitions changed how you think about your second half?

I wasn’t sure if I’d ever have kids, but after becoming pregnant at 38, my world was forever changed. Becoming a mom was a blessing in disguise, but I would be lying if I said my introduction to parenthood was easy.

Before, I was used to only living for myself. Now, I’m trying to build a happy, healthy life for the two of us and navigate it with a co-parent who is, fortunately, a very present father. Life has certainly gotten more layered and complex.

What are you no longer willing to postpone?

My book! When I was five, I said I wanted to be an author and illustrator of children’s books. I had a poem published in Highlights magazine. I wrote newsletters for my friends. I have always been a writer.

Fast forward to adulthood, where I have a near-complete outline in Scrivener on an old laptop for a book I thought I would write six years ago… I’m not sure if that is the book I will bring to life first, but I have so many ideas—from personal development to auto-fiction—that I don’t want to wait any longer. My inner child is literally screaming at me to make time for it.

What role do work, achievement, or ambition play in your life today compared to earlier chapters?

I used to think my work status and titles were the end-all-be-all. Now, my feelings around work follow a more European approach: I work to live. I don’t live to work. This has allowed me to focus more on my passions, like writing and travel, and given me the flexibility in my schedule to spend more time with my daughter.

What have you learned about happiness that your younger self wouldn’t have understood?

Chasing the job, the home, the relationship, the status… none of it leads to sustained happiness. This is going to sound cliché, but outside of your basic needs being met, happiness really is an inside job. It doesn’t come from some grand achievement.

Happiness is found in the little things, in the present moment. It’s writing from a chiringuito (summer beach bar) in the sand on a Wednesday morning and going for a dip in the Mediterranean. It’s watching my daughter get chocolate gelato all over her face and then run around hysterically on a sugar high. It’s a solo coffee date. It’s enjoying a glass of wine and going deep in conversations with loved ones.

If the second half of life has a theme or guiding principle for you, what would it be?

It’s never too late. Period.

What does growing older mean to you now?

I contemplated my response to this question as I was floating in the sea, and this is the mantra that came to me: more time for pleasure, less time for bullshit. And I think that’s beautiful.

What are you still trying to figure out?

Ummm, everything? I don’t believe we figure things out as we get older. Maybe we just get better at improvising or winging it. It’s funny. I used to think my parents had all the answers, but they were probably just figuring things out as they went along too.

What belief about life have you changed your mind about?

What home is “supposed to” look like and what it means to “settle down”. I no longer believe that home is found in one place, and I often explore this idea in my writing.

What are you trying to say “yes” to more these days?

New experiences! There is so much to discover in Barcelona: the distinct neighborhoods, the music scene, the culture, food, and art. I feel alive here.

What are you trying to say “no” to more these days?

Saying “yes” to everything! It can be easy to get caught up in all the magic that this city has to offer, and I’ve gotten better at turning down invitations and canceling plans if I’m no longer up for them.

I’m also trying to travel more consciously, instead of hopping on a plane at every invitation, and focus more on building my life here in Barcelona.

What are you learning to let go of?

Worrying, people-pleasing, fear of failure… all still a work in progress.

What feels more urgent now than it did ten years ago?

My retirement savings? Having another baby? (Just kidding, mom!) Society loves to remind me that my clock is ticking.

What would make you look back and think, “I used my time well”?

I spent quality time with my daughter through all ages and stages. I was intentional about time spent with my parents and sisters, even though the distance was great.

My life didn’t stop after motherhood: I took solo trips and girls’ trips, went on writing retreats, went on ridiculous excursions, and climbed crazy-high mountains.

I didn’t let fear of failure hold me back: from picking up piano again in my 40s, from finishing and publishing my books, from starting a new business, whatever it may be.

I continued to put myself out there and try new things, year after year after year.

What do you hope people remember about you when you’re gone?

I had so much fun with Asia! She was a positive influence in my life and was there when I needed her. She helped me feel less alone in my struggles.

She was a dedicated mother and loyal friend.

She was brave, lived a full life, and did things her way (cue Frank Sinatra).

Hopefully, I will leave people with a book or two to remember me by, too.

Big thanks to Asia for taking the time to answer my questions, and as always, thanks for reading! Leave a comment or question for her below. 💬

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I read an article the other day about “grief travel” and how it can help transform an aching heart, but that “griefcation” shouldn’t be used as a form of avoidance or escapism. I’m not sure what I think. Travel always helps me shake things up and snap out of my often rigid routine. If it helps you feel better, I say, go for it. There’s nothing wrong with escaping every now and then.

Books are also a great escape, at least I think so. So here’s a quick list of what I read in July, in case you’re looking for some recs. If you read Yesteryear, please share your thoughts in the comments. As you can see from my summary below, I didn’t love it, but I also can’t stop thinking about it…

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Essentialism by Greg McKeown

In a nutshell, this book is about doing less in life and work, but doing it better. It argues that by separating the vital few things from the trivial many, you can make your highest possible contribution. It’s the second time I’ve read it, and I’m sure it won’t be the last!

Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke

I wanted to like this book, especially because I wanted to support a first-time author, and because some described it as a “cathartic takedown of the patriarchy”, but I was often confused about which time period I was in... and many other details of the story. Maybe I’m just not the right audience, though. I read somewhere that it wasn’t about actual time travel and that the main character, Natalie, was just delusional and stopped acknowledging the modern world—and believed she was living in the 1800s—while having a mental breakdown. I struggled to get through it, but at the same time I was intrigued by the trad wife influencer archetype. The ending also felt abrupt and perhaps like an afterthought, which left me scratching my head. I’ve contemplated whether I should try reading it again, but life’s too short for that! I’ll wait for the movie.

One by One by Freida McFadden

This might be my eighth Freida McFadden read. I love her mystery novels when I’m looking for something light and entertaining that I can breeze through. This one’s about a married couple that hates each other until the experience of nearly getting murdered in a forest makes them realize they’ve had something good all along. Oh, the drama! The only downside is that I usually stay up all night devouring her books because of the cliffhangers at the end of every chapter. Worth it, though!

Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka

I will definitely be reading this surreal story again! Gregor Samsa is a traveling salesman who wakes up one morning to find himself transformed into a giant insect. Unable to work or communicate, he becomes a burden to his family, leading to their growing resentment and his eventual isolation and death. That’s the story, but I want to read it again in the morning instead of while I’m in bed dozing off because all the metaphors and symbolism about alienation, roles and identity, and love didn’t really sink in.

The Grieving Brain by Mary-Frances O’Connor

I’ve read numerous grief-related memoirs since January, so this was a nice science-backed addition to better understand what’s actually happening in your brain while you’re grieving. Essentially, even if you’re not in denial about someone’s death, your brain needs time to catch up and learn to comprehend that your loved one no longer exists in the dimensions—here, now, and close—that you were previously accustomed to locating them in. 🤯

Life After Ambition by Amil Niazi

I do not have or want kids, but still, I relate to feeling torn by what feels like opposing identities and having to choose one or the other. I love that, in the end, Amil finds a way to choose both her career and raising a family while staying true to herself (i.e., doing it in a way that’s sustainable for her). Inspiring memoir for overachievers looking to drill down to what’s truly essential to them without feeling guilty for it!

What have you read recently? What’s on your TBR list? Please share in the comments!

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Take care,

Alexis

P.S. It would mean a lot to me if you hit the ♡ button to help others find this post. Also, if you’re able to upgrade your subscription or share my work with a friend, I would be so grateful! Thanks so much.

This wasn’t advice from a dermatologist or cosmetic specialist; it was ChatGPT.

I’m turning 41 in September, and earlier this summer, I found myself having a conversation with ChatGPT about whether it thought I needed Botox. I realize there are a few things wrong with getting beauty and cosmetic advice from a machine that lacks both a medical degree and emotional intelligence, but I mainly did it because I was curious what it would say, not because I think someone or something else should tell me whether I need Botox.

Botox had recently come up among a few different friend groups, and everyone’s stance was different, which is to be expected. Before I go any further, I want to say that I think people should do whatever they want to their faces and bodies, as long as they’re doing it for themselves and because it genuinely makes them happy, not because they feel pressured into it. I know that’s easier said than done, but I just want to clarify that I’m not interested in shaming anyone for getting Botox or choosing not to.

That said, I don’t see myself ever getting Botox or any other cosmetic procedure to reduce or turn back the signs of getting older. Unless it’s for health reasons, I just can’t fathom doing it. But also, who knows how I’ll feel in 10 years? The fact that I’m terrified of needles certainly plays a role. The last time I had blood drawn, at 40, the nurse had to reassure me while I explained how afraid I am of needles.

I am, however, not afraid of creams! I wouldn’t say I’m a slave to anti-aging rhetoric, but I’m definitely influenced by it. How could I not be? The anti-aging industry thrives on making us feel like we’re not allowed to age! How else would it be projected to nearly double in market size from now to 2033?1

During a chat I recently had with from How Not to F*ck Up Your Face, she raised an interesting point that there are very few people who age completely naturally. Depending on how you look at it, doing anything at all to your face—even applying moisturizer and SPF—means you’re not aging 100% naturally.

Over the last year or so, I’ve started using retinol a few nights a week, and this summer I’ve slathered more sun cream on my face than I did throughout my entire twenties. I want to look as good as I possibly can. Also, umm... I don’t want skin cancer.

Does that make me vain? Does it mean I’m falling for the fearmongering around aging out of society? I honestly don’t know. I’d like to think I’m not. But when we’re all encouraged to chase youthfulness—even as grown-ass adults—and 68-year-old celebrities somehow look 40, you start to wonder what aging is actually supposed to look like.

I like feeling good when I look in the mirror; I’m human! I’d be lying if I said I haven’t noticed more lines on my neck or the “11s” between my eyebrows (which I prefer to call my “deep thought” lines—ha!). I also sometimes miss the plumper face I had in my twenties.

Even so, I don’t want to change my face. Part of that comes from not wanting to conform to the wildly unrealistic expectations placed on modern women. Sometimes it feels like we’re expected to have everything together—physically, mentally, financially—all the damn time.

After talking with other women and going down a bit of a research rabbit hole, I realized I’ve only scratched the surface of the Botox-and-aging conversation in this piece. There are societal, psychological, and cultural angles that deserve essays of their own. But in an effort to stay focused, let me show you what ChatGPT (aka my new skincare advisor) said.

I gave it the photo below and typed: “I just took this photo. I’m 40. Should I get Botox?”

I’m shaking my head as I type this now because it feels ridiculous that I’d even ask ChatGPT something like this. But I guess that’s the world we’re living in. I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible. Lol. So serious.

I won’t bore you by copying and pasting ChatGPT’s entire response, but here’s the gist.

It said I have healthy, even-toned skin, a few forehead movement lines, a faint vertical line between my brows, and no deeply etched wrinkles at rest. It also pointed out something I hadn’t ever considered: some under-eye hollowing and mild loss of facial volume, which it reassured me “naturally happens around 40.”

Thanks, ChatGPT. I hadn’t even thought about the under-eye hollowing and shadowing, but NOW I have.

Then it walked me through my options depending on my goals, explaining that if I wanted to look less tired, Botox probably wouldn’t be the most effective tool. Maybe I could just get more sleep, but unfortunately, waking up at 3:22 a.m., drenched in sweat, only to lie awake in an endless thought loop about all THE THINGS isn’t exactly conducive to looking well-rested.

As for my forehead, ChatGPT told me: “Looking at this photo specifically, I’d put you in the category of someone who could choose Botox for maintenance rather than correction.”

Then it gave me three options:

1. Do nothing—you already look youthful for 40.

2. Try a very conservative amount of Botox.

3. Focus on skin quality first with moisturizer, SPF, retinol, and a vitamin C serum.

And then, in true ChatGPT fashion, it found a way to keep me engaged. It asked whether my forehead lines became significantly deeper when I raised my eyebrows or frowned, and suggested I upload more photos so it could give me a more specific opinion.

So, of course, I took more weird selfies while my boyfriend and I sat on a bench in a sunny park in Tribeca. See “surprised Alexis” and “grumpy Alexis” below.

“These photos are actually very helpful.” Of course they are, ChatGPT. Of course they are.

Then it went on to explain what it observed during its evaluation of the three expressions I shared in the selfies above. Apparently, I have strong forehead muscle movement and develop horizontal lines easily when animated, which ChatGPT said, “Is exactly the type of wrinkle Botox works well on.”

But most importantly, “When your face returns to neutral, most of those lines disappear. That tells me they are still largely dynamic lines rather than deeply etched static wrinkles.”

It also pointed out that when I frown, a vertical line between my brows remains faintly visible even after my face relaxes. “Of everything I see, this is the area that would benefit the most from Botox. A small amount could soften the tendency to look slightly concerned or focused when you're not intending to.”

LOL. Maybe I like my resting bitch face.

It reassured me that my crow’s feet are minimal and added, “I wouldn’t touch them.”

In the end, it gave me two options:

• Option A: Skip Botox for another year or two. You look great now, and nothing really jumps out as needing correction.

• Option B: Try a conservative treatment for my forehead and 11 lines.

It wrapped up by saying, “People with movement patterns like yours often say after treatment, ‘I don’t look younger. I just look more rested.’ That’s usually the sweet spot.”

Oh, ChatGPT’s beloved “sweet spot”!

Eventually, I got bored with the conversation, put my phone away, and applied more sun cream to my face. The irony, I know!

But as I was noodling on how to connect the dots in this piece, I realized that I never actually told ChatGPT how to measure beauty or what benchmarks or standards to use to advise on whether I need Botox or not. I simply asked whether I should get Botox at 40.

So, naturally, it defaulted to the beauty standards it has learned from the internet. When I later asked how it came to its conclusion, it explained that it was drawing from culturally familiar cosmetic standards: smoother skin being associated with youth, fewer forehead and frown lines being associated with looking rested, firmness and even skin tone being treated as markers of “good” skin, and natural movement being preferred over a visibly frozen appearance.

In other words, even though I never asked it to, it evaluated my face using categories like youthful, healthy, firm, even-toned, and signs of aging. It was evaluating my face according to the beauty standards splashed across the internet and the ones that AI is trained on. It admitted that it’s biased.

“Those standards are not neutral truths. They come from dermatology and cosmetic-marketing language, media images, beauty culture, and patterns in how women’s faces are evaluated. They privilege youth and smoothness, and they can make ordinary signs of living look like defects.”

I was able to think about this objectively. But what about teenagers asking ChatGPT for beauty advice? How scary!

I had this conversation out of curiosity, not because I dislike my face. In fact, it’s the opposite. I like my face, and I can’t imagine changing it. I don’t think I’d feel like myself anymore. But still, I can’t help feeling like we’re not supposed to age. I’m also way too cheap to spend my hard-earned money trying to look younger.

Apparently, a single glabellar (”11s”) treatment in New York City costs somewhere between $240 and $5402 and is recommended every three to four months. I’d rather spend that money on travel, making my home more comfortable, or something else that makes me feel good. But we all prioritize different things and have different spending habits. As I said earlier, I’m not here to shame anyone.

No one has ever commented negatively on my appearance, so that’s not what prompted this experiment. I think it’s simply because, as I enter my forties, Botox and aging have become much more common topics among friends and on social media. I appreciate it when women talk openly about what they do or don’t do. I want to hear both sides. I don’t want to live inside a vacuum of Botox shaming—or shaming of anything that women choose to do to their faces or bodies.

It also strikes me how differently the topic shows up depending on where I am. Back home in Amsterdam, I can’t remember ever seeing a Botox advertisement, although I’m sure women here also do it. But while I was in California this summer, I saw this massive sign.

And last year, in Florida, I noticed a walk-in Botox clinic next to the Chinese takeout restaurant where I stopped before visiting my mom at the memory care facility. I remember texting my brother that I could pick up dinner and squeeze in a Botox appointment while I was at it.

It feels much more in-your-face in the United States, which makes sense, as it’s the dominating country with the highest volume of cosmetic procedures,3 followed by Brazil, Mexico, and Germany.

What other women are doing, feeling, and thinking

I asked friends and women in a 40+ networking group about their thoughts on Botox and feeling like we’re not allowed to age. I specifically asked, “What’s everyone doing, feeling, thinking as it relates to these topics?”

Some women get Botox. Some don’t. Some tried it and stopped. Some are considering it. Almost everyone seemed to be somewhere in the middle and thinking about the same questions in different ways: How do I want to age? What should aging even look like?

I also noticed that when I asked whether I could include their comments in this piece, some women were happy to use their full names, others preferred their first name only, and several wanted to remain anonymous. So I interpreted this as: we’re told not to age, and then we’re left feeling ashamed, like we have to hide it if we do anything about it, or even have an opinion about it. There is, of course, also the possibility that some people just don’t want their personal thoughts displayed on a public forum, regardless of the topic. I get that!

Here’s what various women said, in no particular order:

“My dermatologist has suggested Botox, but seeing her completely line-free face actually made me hesitate more than anything. I’ve found that hydration, vitamin C, moisturizer, good sleep, and cutting back on alcohol have done more for my skin than expensive treatments. I also think there’s more acceptance of aging now than there was a few years ago—grey hair is everywhere!” —Anonymous 40+ woman

“I’m not anti-Botox—I just haven’t done it myself. I’ve earned this face through life, and I’m not ready, if ever, to go beyond good skincare.” —Melissa Mittelstaedt

“What shocks me most isn’t aging; it’s how strange people can look when they overcorrect it. I care more about skincare now than I used to, but I’d rather look my age than chase something that doesn’t feel natural.” —Anonymous 40+ woman

“I liked Botox, but I metabolized it so quickly that I eventually decided it wasn’t worth the money or upkeep. These days, I’d rather spend that money on hobbies—or skincare treatments with longer-term benefits.” —Lynn

“I decided years ago never to do cosmetic injections or surgery. I want my nieces to know it’s okay to age and for people to know what a forty-plus-year-old woman looks like. It doesn’t mean it’s easy to watch myself age in the mirror, but I do my best to care for myself and work through it!” —Meredith Clinton

“I inherited deep forehead lines from my dad, so I’m all for whatever helps you feel better when you look in the mirror. For example, I notice some folks are super passionate about coloring their hair, but that upkeep is not for me. Bring on the grays!” —Jessica S.

“I’m not anti-Botox at all. I’ve just seen far more people regret doing too much than too little, and it’s a reminder that sometimes less really is more.” —Lisa McClure

“Living in Southern California, it feels like everyone is expected to look 21 forever. I’ve chosen not to participate because I think we should celebrate the years we’ve survived rather than fight something that’s inevitable. Plus, everyone is going to look completely wacky in 10 or so years.” —Sarah K.

“Whether medical or other, I think it’s a personal decision, and you just do what’s best for you. Not for me now, may or may not be for me in one year or five years… Anti-aging is all society imposes on women, but I do not feel the pressure. I am confident in myself, and appearance is not a priority at this stage in life. If I were in the public eye and exposed to ridicule, I bet I’d feel different.” —Anonymous 40+ woman

“I don’t think I feel societal pressure to do things because I mostly ignore that stuff. I’m not against it; to each their own. I’m against people doing so many things to their faces that they start looking really weird. I’ve been turned off by some influencers because I’ve slowly watched their faces change, and not in a good way. I don’t think Botox necessarily does that to you, but when you add lip injections and other procedures, you get into that territory. Maybe one day I’d try it if I stopped liking what I saw in the mirror, but I’m also afraid when it comes to this stuff.” —Anonymous 40+ woman

“My priorities are exercise, healthy eating, and sleep, so I can feel good in my own skin without the quick Botox fix. But who knows, maybe at 50 I will notice that my face doesn’t match how I feel inside, and I will decide to inject something. I admire women, especially public figures, who age naturally. It’s weird to say, since aging is simply part of being human, but I see them as rebels who don’t follow the crowd and march to their own beat. In any case, women should do whatever they please with their own bodies, because right now it feels like we’re judged no matter what we choose.” —Živilė M.

"I never thought I’d be the type of person to get Botox, but lo and behold, I am. I do it once a year, but not because I equate beauty with youthfulness; I do it because, as a busy mom of two, it makes me look refreshed. It makes me feel good about myself and more confident when I look in the mirror. I encourage people to do whatever makes them feel good. I don’t think I’ll ever do more. I’m starting to see lines on the sides of my eyes, and I think they’re beautiful. I’m 41, not 18. I don’t want to turn back time. I think it’s good to see the life in my face and body, but I would appreciate it if society accepted those signs more.” —Jessica Nagel

“I’ve had small amounts of Botox every six months since I was 30 (except during babies), and I like that it’s softened wrinkles without making me look frozen. Now that it doesn’t last as long, I’m trying to accept using less and letting the wrinkles come, even though I definitely feel the pressure.” —Jacquie King

“Women today often look younger than previous generations because of prevention—SPF, less smoking and drinking, and better skincare. It’s changing our expectations of what 30, 40, and 50 are supposed to look like. I have Restylane (hyaluronic acid filler), which replaces what you lose with age.” —Chloe Alana Williams

“Growing up in Los Angeles gave me a complicated relationship with aging, and I go back and forth constantly. In the past, I have had Botox and other treatments, and as I near 56, I’m considering (natural-looking cheek, jaw, and elephant-dent) fillers, Dysport, and laser facials when finances allow. I refuse to chase the AI face, but I’m also trying to be compassionate with myself about my complicated feelings around getting older. See how this is just a see-saw? I can’t even get a sentence out without going back and forth, which is an accurate reflection of how I’m dealing with aging.” —Allison Walker

The more responses I read from women, the less I felt like this was really about Botox. It feels more like a conversation about the permission to age, to opt in or out of the pressure to preserve a youthful appearance, and—in some cases—the resulting shame of either choice. I wish society framed wrinkles and any other signs of aging as a life well lived rather than a structural defect. Like many of the women I spoke to, I too am somewhere in the middle. Grappling with getting older and how it changes us—and shifts our identity, beyond what we look like—is not always easy.

My relationship with my face

At the time of writing, my 40-year-old face has already been through a lot. In my twenties, I climbed the corporate career ladder only to realize it wasn’t what I wanted. I started a clothing brand that eventually failed, but it opened the door to building the freelance career I have today. In my early 30s, I got divorced and moved to the Netherlands, which all turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I lost my mom to Alzheimer’s in my late thirties. These are just a few highlights, but the stress and the joy of it all- that’s life.

My face is part of my life history. When I look in the mirror, I’m reminded that I’m strong and independent, and that both I—and my face—can weather whatever storms life throws at us. It also reminds me of the countless beautiful experiences that got me here.

Nowadays, I also see my mom in the mirror. It feels strange, but the thought of her being somewhere inside of me is comforting. When her Alzheimer’s progressed, she sometimes looked in the mirror and asked, “Who is that?” She knew she was looking at herself, but she didn’t like how she had aged. I thought she was beautiful until the very end.

I imagine that as I get older, I might long for the more youthful-looking version of myself, but I can’t help wondering whether that longing will come from nostalgia or because society has taught me that’s what I should miss. I already miss the version of myself who hadn’t yet learned certain things about life. There’s something freeing about naivety. But I also hope that, as the years pass, I’ll continue to feel proud of who I am—and how I look—at every stage of my life.

These days, I’m much more worried about the things you can’t see, like maintaining a healthy brain, strong bones, and good cholesterol levels. Is that too much to ask?

What my ChatGPT experiment revealed

Women account for the overwhelming majority (94%)4 of cosmetic Botox procedures, but apparently, “Brotox”5 is a thing now, too. I don’t necessarily think Botox is a feminist issue. I think it’s a personal decision, and to each their own. Feeling empowered to do what works best for you is what matters.

I’ve loved watching celebrities like Pamela Anderson embrace going makeup-free as an act of rebellion.6 But also, why do we even have to frame that as an act of rebellion? The fact that simply existing in your own face can be considered radical says something about the expectations women are still navigating. Pamela Anderson has been praised for rejecting Hollywood beauty standards, but she’s also been criticized for doing exactly that. It’s a good old case of damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

Nowadays, women have more spending power than ever before—go us! We’re earning more,7 building businesses, buying homes independently, and making financial decisions for ourselves. But of course, the beauty and cosmetic industry has noticed. There is an enormous financial incentive to convince us that aging is a problem with a solution that just happens to cost a few hundred dollars every few months.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized my curiosity about whether ChatGPT thought I needed Botox wasn’t really about Botox at all. It was about a deeper question that women, as we get older, are constantly confronted with:

Are we allowed to age?

Of course we fucking are. But then a multi-billion-dollar industry that profits from making us believe we shouldn’t would be out of business. Women wouldn’t be spending thousands of dollars each year out of fear of aging out of societal relevance, employment opportunities, and desirability,8 among other things!

Thanks for reading,

Alexis

P.S. It would mean a lot to me if you hit the ♡ button to help others find this post. Also, if you are able to upgrade your subscription or share my work with a friend, I would be so grateful! Thank you so much. (Also, I don’t have an editor, so pardon any misplaced commas or run-on sentences; I’m human. 🤗)

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I’m very excited about today’s interview! Memoirist, anthologist, and Substack superstar (who runs and ) was kind enough to answer my questions on aging and ambition, writing and editing, building an author platform, and so much more.

I suspect that most of you already know who Sari is, but if not, she’s the author of the memoir in essays, And You May Find Yourself...Confessions of a Late-Blooming Gen-X Weirdo, she was chosen by Poets & Writers magazine for the 2022 edition of its annual "5 Over 50" feature, and for five years, she was the Essays Editor at Longreads. She has also edited the bestselling anthologies Goodbye to All That: Writers on Loving and Leaving NewYork and Never Can Say Goodbye: Writers on Their Unshakable Love for New York.

In short, she’s working her ass off! And inspiring many other writers to do the same, including me.

Alexis: Your Substack, Oldster Magazine, “explores what it means to travel through time in a human body at every phase of life.” From the good to the bad to the ugly, and what “getting older” means at different junctures. What do you think people are really searching for when they gravitate toward writing (and reading) about aging, grief, reinvention, and identity?

Sari: As with every human experience that brings people to something previously unknown—that likely makes them feel unsure and vulnerable—people want to know they are not alone in their experience of getting older. At least that was the case for me, and part of why I started Oldster. I wanted to know that I wasn’t the only one struggling with changes to my body, ageism on the job front, and anxiety about retirement and end-of-life stuff. I think they also come to Oldster to learn helpful tips from contributors and commenters. The exchange of information in the comments on Oldster posts is next level.

A lot of women arrive in midlife and realize they’ve outgrown versions of themselves they worked very hard to become. How have you navigated this in your own life?

Oh, definitely! I wrote a whole memoir-in-essays about it called And You May Find Yourself: Confessions of a Late-Blooming Gen-X Weirdo. So many women who respond to The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire write about how, later in life, they are returning to a truer version of themselves, a version that preceded performing gender and professional striving. I feel like that’s happening for me, too. You reach a point where you realize how much you were pretending so that you could grasp those brass rings, and you can no longer keep it up.

You’ve edited so many personal essays over the years at Longreads, and for your two anthologies, Goodbye to All That and Never Can Say Goodbye, and now Oldster Magazine and Memoir Land on Substack. What separates the essays that stay with you from the ones that are simply well written?

I don’t know! I have a nearly photographic memory, and I remember almost every essay I’ve ever edited, which is insane, because I’ve edited a lot of personal essays! Sometimes I’ll run into someone whose essay I edited for Longreads in like 2016, and I’ll say, “Oh, yeah, you wrote that piece about X in which Y and Z happened,” and they are astounded that I remember it in such detail. I’ve always been deeply affected by personal narratives of all kinds, by writers at all levels.

There’s often pressure for personal essays to “resolve” neatly by the end. Do you think readers (and writers) are becoming more open to uncertainty, contradiction, and unresolved emotions?

Oh, definitely. I think this is a trend that has been in motion for some time. The hard part is steering writers away from artificially tying things up neatly in a bow at the end.

Your work explores aging with honesty rather than panic or forced positivity. What do you think mainstream conversations about aging still get wrong, especially for women?

Despite an ongoing movement to change the conversation, ageism, especially gendered ageism, is alive and well. There’s still a lot of condescension from younger people, and sometimes they’ll performatively try to show me how wonderfully accepting of us they are, in a way that seems self-congratulatory to them. “Look at me talking to an older person like she still matters!”

You’ve built a meaningful literary platform outside of traditional legacy media. What have you learned about creating genuine community online?

I can’t say enough good things about literary citizenship. Get to know other writers, either online, in person, or both. Go to book events, go to literary events, and join a writers’ group. These are great ways to meet like-minded friends who can support each other in a challenging creative field—although not in a transactional way. There’s no guarantee that if you support someone in some way, it will come back to you in that exact way later on. But membership definitely has its advantages, to paraphrase an old American Express ad.

How has your relationship to ambition changed as you’ve gotten older?

I’ve come around to competing with myself instead of other people. Actually, it’s not really competing with myself—it’s improving upon what I’ve done in the past, and striving further. Generally, I’m not a competitive person, and I think that helps me keep going when others around me succeed first.

What’s something you understand now about adulthood or womanhood that your younger self couldn’t have imagined?

That on some level, most people don’t feel like they are fully adults. We all seem to retain some essence of our child-selves, and we also look outside ourselves for guidance from “the real adults,” whoever they might be.

Like many writers, I often struggle with how much of myself to reveal on the page. How do you personally decide what’s too private versus emotionally necessary to share?

I’m naturally prone to oversharing. I always have been. I believe that when you share vulnerably, you do a tremendous favor to others who have had similar experiences, helping them know they are not alone. In terms of what not to share, I keep in mind this guideline from The Moth: “Write from your scars, not your open wounds.” So I mostly try to only share publicly what I’ve processed, what I’m able to make valuable sense of.

You recently announced that you’re working on a new anthology springing from your Substack, Oldster Magazine. Congratulations! Was it your goal when you started Oldster to eventually turn it into a book? Did you seek out a book deal, or were you approached because of your success on Substack and your NYT feature?

My agent and I had a book proposal for the Oldster anthology ready to go for a while. She strategically waited until after the NY Times piece was published to take it out, and that put us in a very good position. Eight publishing houses were interested.

Before we go, a few rapid-fire questions

What book have you been recommending to everyone lately?

I always recommend Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott because it’s probably my favorite book, and the one that made me a writer.

What show or movie are you binge-watching?

Season 11 of Grantchester, my favorite cozy British murder series.

What’s one piece of advice you’d give to every aspiring author?

Don’t be in a rush. Take your time and let your work evolve.

What’s one thing you wish were different about the book publishing industry?

I wish publishers would give more chances to more writers who didn’t come up with great privilege and access.

What’s your top tip on building an author platform?

Don’t be bashful or self-deprecating when sharing your work. A well-respected book publicist taught me that. She said, “Stop making fun of yourself on social media.”

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Subscribe to Sari’s Substack publications and follow her on Instagram to stay in touch!

Thanks for reading! If you have any questions for Sari or me, drop them in the comments below.

See you soon,

Alexis

P.S. If you enjoyed this post, hit the ♡ button below and/or share it to help others find it. To further support my work, consider upgrading your subscription. Thanks so much.

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I found photography equipment from when I had a clothing brand, and I taught myself how to take all the photos because hiring a professional wasn’t something I could afford as a solo business owner. Eventually, I even started offering photography services.

I found the last bin of inventory from my brand, along with another bin filled with garment patterns, business cards, and fabric swatches. I dumped almost everything except the photography equipment and the inventory (all of which I’ll donate); it felt so good!

I found my engagement and wedding bands, which I think I’ll try to sell (and probably not make much money), but I’ll never wear them again. I don’t even feel sentimental about them anymore, but I think it would be weird to start wearing them again, even if on another finger.

Coming back to this apartment and finding all these things—some of which I forgot even existed—has inspired me to do a big clean out when I get back to Amsterdam. I find the bare, decluttered space relaxing. I’m all about less is more right now.

Staying at the apartment for the last five-ish days has also been confusing. Not having a home of my own in the place where I’m originally from is scary, but from a purely logical standpoint, selling the apartment is the best financial option. I think once all is said and done, it will feel freeing not to have to worry about this apartment anymore. I’m all about doing things that scare me these days!

One thing making a big move abroad has taught me is that you never know where life will take you, but if I think about the short-term future—the next five to 10 years—I do not imagine myself living in NYC again, or in the US. Life is much more affordable and easy-going in Europe, and after dealing with delayed subway trains and a bunch of weirdos the other night, I’m looking forward to the freedom of cycling around town in Amsterdam! And the cleaner streets.

Anyway, this post was supposed to be about books, and now I’m rambling… Before I share what I read in June, have you read Yesteryear? I’m reading it now, and I’m not sure what I think yet. 🤯 Would love to discuss!

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My June reads

Famesick by

I’ve loved Lena Dunham since Girls, which was running when I moved to Brooklyn around the same age as the show’s characters. In her memoir, Famesick, she writes about her experience of “making it” at a young age and how it was not at all glamorous—taking a toll on her emotional and physical well-being. It’s not a light read, but I admire her raw and honest writing and how she manages to inject humor in all the right places

Valley of the Moms by

This mystery thriller is a fun summer read about a suburban mom who challenges her affluent town's exclusive Parent-Teacher Organization and is later found dead, which prompts her husband to dig into the community's secrets and politics to uncover the truth. I’m biased because it’s written by my soon-to-be book-proposal-writing coach, but even if I didn’t know Hannah, I’d still recommend this book if you’re looking for light summer entertainment.

No Contact: Writers on Estrangement by

I learned about this anthology edited by Jenny Bartoy via . It’s a collection of 32 personal essays, poems, and flash pieces by known and emerging writers who explore the difficulties of cutting ties with family. It’s not a light one, but each piece is well written, and I think family estrangement is a taboo topic that’s not talked about enough. I’m not personally estranged from any family members, but like everyone, I know how complex those relationships can be.

How to Be Okay When Nothing Is Okay by

Jenny Lawson does it again! This book is a collection of humorous and heartfelt essays and tips about managing mental health struggles like depression, anxiety, and ADHD, while fostering creativity. It’s inspirational and practical without being cringy.

Strangers: A Memoir of Marriage by Belle Burden

This seems to be one of this year’s hottest books. Belle Burden’s husband suddenly opts out of their 20-year marriage after she discovers his affair during the pandemic. I liked reading about her transformation, and I appreciate that she acknowledges her privilege, given her wealthy family background. But I found parts of it hard to believe, like some small details were missing. Still, Burden is an excellent writer, and I enjoyed reading her memoir.

What have you read recently? What’s on your TBR list? Please share!

Take care,

Alexis

P.S. If you enjoyed this post, hit the ♡ button below and/or share it to help others find it. To further support my work, consider buying me a coffee (on repeat). Thanks so much.

P.P.S. You might have noticed a new color palette here. I’m rereading Essentialism by Greg McKeown (found it in my apartment!), and it has inspired me to streamline my work website and my Substack. I also gave my website a long-overdue update (still fiddling with it!).

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Lately, I’ve been obsessed with exploring that question from every angle: the profound, the practical, the vain, and the funny. Through personal essays, interviews, experiments, and the occasional existential crisis, I’m trying to make sense of what it means to get older—and live life to the fullest—on my terms.

It’s something that has been top of mind since my mom died on January 1, 2026, following nearly five years of living with Alzheimer’s. The day after she died, I did what I now realize is called grief math. I calculated how many days she had lived and how many days I had already lived when I lost her. When I realized—only three months into my 40s—I’d already lived more than half the number of days she ever got, it got me thinking, and since then, I’ve been ruminating on how I want to live my second half.

Spoiler: I’m a long way from having answers! But I’m hoping that writing about it and talking to other people will help me figure it out.

Reflecting on the life you’ve lived so far, and what you want to do and experience next, is a fun and enlightening exercise. Major life events can contribute to this thinking, at least in my experience, but I’ve become so curious about this topic that I’d love to hear from more people about how you’re thinking about your second half of life and how you’d (in an ideal world) live it. I’m a realist too, so I know life has its own plan for me, but it’s nice to dream!

“I’m not willing to postpone doing things—anything—that scares me.”

Read my Second Half Q&A.

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Is there a part of yourself that you’re hoping to rediscover in your second half of life?

Definitely! I’ve noticed since my late 30s that I’m exploring some of my earlier hobbies again, like painting and jewelry-making, but I think there’s something deeper I’m searching for. I’m not even sure if “searching” is the right word, but I’m always trying to figure out how to reach the more carefree version of myself. I’m not sure if it’s possible because, of course, as we get older, our responsibilities change, and we’ve naturally been through more hard shit in life.

What do you care less about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?

Oh, so much! But the biggest things are that I no longer feel the need or pressure to follow a conventional life path (i.e., marriage, kids, climbing the career ladder, etc.). I used to be super focused on my career and my job title, but nowadays, as long as I’m making enough money to live the lifestyle I want and doing work that doesn’t make me want to pull my hair out, I don’t really care what title you give me.

Conversely, what do you care more about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?

I care so much more about protecting my time to do the things that help me relax and feel good. Simple things. Reading. Exercising. Going to my weekly oil painting class. Experimenting in the kitchen. Getting in bed by 9 pm! I noticed a huge shift in how I prioritized my rest and well-being starting in my late 30s. I think it was partially due to the experience of losing my mom to Alzheimer’s and realizing just how short life can be. You just never know how your life will unfold. So why spend all of it working or doing something that stresses you out? I realize, of course, that it’s a privilege to have choices and some level of financial freedom, but this has been a massive shift for me. I’ve gone from being an ambition monster to a hobby whore (I should trademark that… ha!).

When you imagine a good life at 60, 70, or 80, what does it look and feel like?

It looks like a cute apartment with a sea view and frequent travel, as long as my body and mind allow it. A partner to share it with (hopefully the same one I have now!). Lots of like-minded friends (old and new). Visits from family and friends. I hope to feel “young” physically as long as possible—fingers crossed that all the Padel and CrossFit help with this! After experiencing my mom’s Alzheimer’s, I worry that I’m next, so a good life as I age also means staying mentally sharp and independent. If not, I give my partner permission to throw me off a bridge!

Have any major losses, disappointments, or life transitions changed how you think about your second half?

Yes, 100%. Watching my mom change and disappear and eventually die as Alzheimer’s ate away at her brain and her personality has changed so much about me and my priorities. If there is anything positive that has come from the experience, it’s that I have a better understanding of how precious time is. And that doesn’t mean you need to be out and about having the most extravagant life experiences ever; it just means you need to think about what’s most important to you and do that. Whether it’s spending time with family and friends, discovering the world, or spending Saturday on the sofa with a good book, it’s up to you. Just make sure you prioritize based on your preferences and desires because you’ll never get the time back.

What are you no longer willing to postpone?

I think I’m mainly not willing to postpone doing things—anything—that scares me. I think there’s so much we hold off on because of fear of the unknown or of change, and then we end up living in the past. In my experience so far, all of the hardest and scariest experiences in my life have blown new doors wide open. Something else I’d add here is having tough conversations with people about topics I’ve been avoiding for some reason or another.

What role do work, achievement, or ambition play in your life today compared to earlier chapters?

Initially, I wanted to say they play no role at all these days, but that’s not true, and I’m just realizing it now as I answer this question. What I’m ambitious about has just changed. I used to want to have some fancy job title, like “director” or “head of” whatever… But nowadays I’m focused on writing, mainly to connect with readers, and then as a form of self-achievement. I want to write and publish a book, which I’m learning is quite ambitious, especially as I’m unknown and don’t have much of a platform. But I keep telling myself to take baby steps and, like most other things in life, I’ll figure it out, or I’ll fail, and it will be a huge learning experience and propel me into my next meant-to-be chapter.

What have you learned about happiness that your younger self wouldn’t have understood?

There is no script or guidebook. Make sure you look inward, rather than at what everyone else is doing. That’s the only way to find true happiness. This is something you’ll work on forever! Happiness doesn’t grow on trees, unfortunately. Also, it’s ok not to be happy all the time.

If the second half of life has a theme or guiding principle for you, what would it be?

Seeking novelty.

What does growing older mean to you now?

Growing wiser and realizing that I can make it through anything.

What are you still trying to figure out?

Wtf I’m doing with my life.

What belief about life have you changed your mind about?

Work is just work. It doesn’t define you. In fact, it shouldn’t! Unless you’re a writer, then OK, it can define you.

What are you trying to say “yes” to more these days?

New experiences. Essentially, anything that scares me or that I’ve never tried before, sign me up!

What are you trying to say “no” to more these days?

Anything that makes me feel tense at the thought of it. A client project, a social event, a favor, etc. I’m also trying to protect my time more. I just don’t have the stamina to socialize and be “on” as much as I did before. I used to feel bad about this, but I’m embracing it more and more.

What are you learning to let go of?

Control and the societal normative version of “success”.

What feels more urgent now than it did ten years ago?

Quality sleep.

What would make you look back and think, “I used my time well”?

At the moment, what comes to mind is if I could touch people’s lives through my writing. Make them feel less alone. And also, seeing as much of the world as possible, which is contradictory because writing requires a lot of sitting on my ass, but thankfully, I can do that from anywhere!

What do you hope people remember about you when you’re gone?

That I was kind, funny, and pleasant to be around, but what they’ll probably remember is how bossy I was. Lol. I meant well!

Thanks for reading!

Alexis

Hello, hello!

I’m writing to you today from Roanoke, VA, where we stayed one night at The Hotel Roanoke, a historic Tudor-style hotel built in 1882. It’s beautiful! I will share some photos on Instagram soon.

K. and I left NYC on Friday morning and are making our way to Nashville, TN, by car, making stops along the way in Pennsylvania, West Virginia, and Virginia so far. I’m not sure where we’ll stop for lunch later today as we drive from Roanoke to Nashville. Taking suggestions! (Reply or leave a comment.)

I don’t think I’ve ever been to WV or VA before, not even a drive-through on the way to somewhere else. It’s incredibly scenic, with its mountains and valleys, which, of course, makes the long drives more enjoyable. I would love to spend more time here exploring and being outdoorsy, but we’re on a schedule so we can make it to California in time for the next Turkey World Cup match. Don’t ask me which match it is; all I know is that at some point in the next 10 days, the US and TR will play, so K. and I will be up against each other. We’re going to the game festivals in San Jose and Los Angeles. I’m afraid it will be a mob scene, but YOLO.

I was telling K. the other night that I feel like I have two settings. I’m either in full homebody mode, enjoying Sofa Saturdays (and my routine), or traveling. I suppose we’re all like this, but exploring new places always reminds me how much I love the novelty of it and that I should seek out more newness in Amsterdam, instead of sinking into the same old routine every week. Whenever I travel, I come up with ideas for new things to try, but I rarely follow through once I’m back home. This time, it’s things like working as a barista for a day at a cafe (just for fun), volunteer work, and painting more (outside my weekly oil painting class). I’m good about planning museum visits in Amsterdam, but there is so much more to discover there. I think about when I first moved to Amsterdam in 2019. I was always out and about, trying new things, or maybe it was the same old stuff I had always been doing, but it felt new because it was in a new city with new people. Either way, I miss that novelty.

Yesterday, as I was driving through winding mountain roads and listening to a country music playlist on Spotify (two things I never do), I was thinking about how exciting it would be to rent out our apartment in Amsterdam and live on the road for a while, but then I realized that’s basically what we’re doing right now. We’re doing it!

That’s all I’ve got for today, but more soon!

Alexis

P.S. If you enjoyed this post, hit the ♡ button below and/or share it to help others find it. To further support my work, consider buying me a coffee (on repeat). Thanks so much.

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Today, I’d like to introduce you to freelance travel and culture writer . She’s originally from Istanbul, but is now based in Rome, where she writes a popular Substack featuring personal essays. Her work has also been published on HuffPost, Business Insider, and more.

In this conversation, we chat about finding and creating a home away from home, changing careers, reinvention, and more.

Alexis: I read your short memoir piece about leaving Istanbul for Berlin. You wrote that you moved to Berlin in 2015, “To find a stable job that helps me afford simple things, like a place of my own, not a room at my mother’s rental, some extra clothes, maybe even furniture, the type people buy out of decoration, not necessity. My other motivations include: going on about my life without being drenched in tear gas as I move between neighborhoods. Or avoid being randomly ID-checked by the riot police carrying MP5s.”

Wow, so much in just a few sentences. Not to get too philosophical, but when you look back now, what did you actually leave behind, and what followed you no matter where you went?

Sema: It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that the home I miss is not a physical place but rather a specific time when I experienced a set of distinct memories. Crossing the Bosphorus by ferry to get to work, having lunch with my girlfriends in Galata, the nights out that rarely wrapped up before 4 a.m. as we hopped from bar to concert to after-parties. I left Turkey when I was 23 and have since lived in six different countries.

I associate the home with the feeling of a promise of hope and expansion. I can cultivate this feeling anywhere I have relative safety, which I define by having a roof over my head and having enough food to eat. This outlook has allowed me to create many homes over the years. It also protected me from the nostalgia so many in the diaspora grapple with, and I accepted that even if I return to Istanbul one day, it will be a different city and I will be a different person.

What does “home” mean to you today, and how has that definition changed over time?

Home is definitely a feeling and not a place. It changes constantly. Currently, home is defined by my husband and my cat, who has unfortunately been diagnosed with a terminal illness and will be leaving us soon, also a set of objects I carry with me wherever I go. Some notebooks, my favorite mug, a vase I love with vibrant colors. These objects help me set the scene for my writing and give me a sense of permanence as my personal history includes a high dose of change.

Do you think home is something you find, or something you create?

I think home is something you create, and not only that but also that you keep creating. I also believe it’s relational—being home in your body, in your relationships, and with the objects you encounter every day. To the extent that they are in alignment with who I am, then I feel home.

Was there a moment when you realized you were no longer the person you were before, but not quite the person you were becoming yet? How did you navigate that in-between?

I love everything about this question. I often joke that every three years I become a new person and, to be honest, I’ve always been equally in awe of and confused by people I know who seem to have some sense of permanence in their character. Like one of my childhood best friends, whose best qualities have not changed since we graduated.

I love spending time by myself and need long stretches of alone time. I spend the majority of that time thinking about life and my place in it. Coupled with a thirst for reading and lots of therapy, this resulted in many, many ego deaths over the years. I sometimes cringe when I think about my convictions five or ten years ago and try to cultivate compassion for a version of myself who didn’t know any better but had a lot of enthusiasm for life. I also love the process of becoming, which means I probably will be a different person in 10 years. And that’s ok. Otherwise it would be very boring!

The in-between is difficult though, especially if you struggle with patience like I do. In those moments it helps me to allocate a lot of time for activities that bring me joy and ground me in my body. For instance, I’m currently working on a book, but it will probably be at least two years before it hits the shelves. Can I authoritatively call myself a writer, considering I do a lot of not-writing-related freelance work to fund my creative life? The answer is an unapologetic yes. As long as I cultivate the space to pick up a notebook and spend an hour in my favourite cafe in Rome, scribbling my little thoughts, I’m a writer.

I’m also a huge fan of visualization. I’m already visualizing the published author Sema who is connecting with readers through her book.

You’ve experienced both structured, high-performing environments when you worked in tech at Google and TikTok, and now a more self-directed life. What did success mean to you then, and what does it mean now that you’ve chosen a different path in travel writing and cultural journalism?

Today, success means having freedom with my time, not being in spaces or around people where I have to become a different version of myself to survive or be accepted, and being able to dedicate large chunks of my time to my creative life. I measure the success of my life by how often I step into joy and serendipity.

I’ve also lost any interest in accolades, titles, or traditional forms of praise. I find them empty, unfulfilling, and quite addictive. If I see myself paying attention to these kinds of things, for instance if someone asks me whether I miss working at Google, and I find myself puzzled, that often points to something that is out of alignment with myself. These days, it rarely happens.

So I find myself feeling successful on days when I wake up with the freedom to decide how I want to spend my time. These days, that might mean heading to Shell in Rome, a bookstore-café, and working on my upcoming book. Other days, it means turning up the volume on my favorite music and starting my day with a dance. Or enjoying a lazy morning snuggled up with my husband.

What finally made you take the leap? When did you realize building a successful career at tech companies wasn’t “it” for you anymore? How did it feel at the time to make such a big change?

I’ve always had a creative side, but I was in survival mode for a long time. It came to a point where I literally felt like my insides were evaporating every time I took part in an activity out of obligation, not because it was what I wanted to do with my life. They could be benign and easy tasks like attending a 30-minute Zoom meeting, but my body and mind would freeze, and I would experience physical symptoms like nausea or a migraine.

Everyone’s story is different, but for me, in terms of my personal growth, I had to experience some form of financial expansion before I took the leap. This could mean having a couple of months’ salary saved or invested, a backup plan if things didn’t work out, or building yourself an FU Fund. These numbers look wildly different for each person. I had to achieve certain milestones in my corporate career to feel safe in my body and surroundings.

This is quite interesting to me because, in creative sectors, you’ll rarely find people who want to talk about money, and I think we do each other a disservice by being guarded around this issue. I would be miserable spiritually and emotionally if I faced financial precarity because so much of my childhood was defined by that.

So it was a combination of my body no longer allowing me to be in environments or do things that only served my survival but didn’t nourish me spiritually or emotionally, and simultaneously building a safety cushion that allowed me to take the leap.

Your writing feels deeply reflective and grounded. Do you write to understand your life, or do you understand your life and then write about it?

I mostly write to understand myself, and then I write to connect.

Same here!

I say some of my best friends and mentors are writers I’ve never met in real life, and when someone responds to my writing with a profound reflection, I feel spiritually lit up.

A lot of your work touches on emotional honesty and self-confrontation. What’s something you realized about yourself that was hard to admit, but changed the direction of your life once you did?

Patience and kindness are two qualities I’m trying to cultivate more in my life. In the past, especially in my twenties, I believed that if my analysis was grounded or factually correct, it didn’t necessarily have to be delivered with compassion or kindness. I was judgmental toward people who didn’t share my political beliefs or lived their lives differently. I don’t relate to that energy anymore. I don’t want to be the cause of, or foster, more separation among people than there already is.

I’ve realized cultivating compassion and kindness for other people has also allowed me to approach myself with those qualities, and that has changed the trajectory of my life. I used to be very hard on myself and suffer from perfectionism. Not anymore. Patience is one I’m working on; please ask me in a year. :D

For women in their 30s, 40s, and beyond who feel the pull to change something big like their career, location, relationship, etc., but are afraid to disrupt what they’ve built… what would you want them to know?

I’d say that the majority of the time, if you regret disrupting your life, you can always go back to the thing you left behind with a refreshed perspective. I know many people who took a shot at entrepreneurship and actually realized it wasn’t for them. Now they have a renewed outlook on their corporate careers, which allows them to enjoy them more.

And you can’t know without trying. In my case, the cost of not trying was definitely higher than the cost of trying and failing. You can never know what’s on the other side without dipping your feet in the water. Do it, it’s not that scary.

Oh, and another unsolicited piece of advice. Don’t listen to doomsday scenarios. There are plenty out there, such as “AI is going to take your job, and the cost of living is gonna get worse”. People who throw these doomsday scenarios hold on to their negative critique as a false sense of control. We don’t know what we can’t know. You don’t have to participate in it. I think we shouldn’t be overly influenced by these overly negative scenarios. I’ve read a wonderful Substack post on AI, which made me think for a moment that we just don’t know enough yet.

And hey, if we get there we’ll have to deal with it anyway. In the meantime, we can focus on what matters, which, for me at the moment, is my creativity, writing, and building a community.

Before we go, a few rapid-fire questions

What does home feel like in one word?

The peonies in the colorful ceramic vase on my table remind me that I’m in Italy, in my new home, and living a chapter of life that feels brighter, more colorful, and a little more fun.

Is there a specific place you return to—physically or mentally—when you feel lost?

Yes, two places. Anywhere where there is a large body of green or water. Nature. Currently, my go-to places are Villa Borghese in Rome and Canetto Beach when I’m in Puglia. If I insert myself in nature, focus on my breathing, and listen to the sounds around me, I’m mostly fine.

What are you reading right now?

Is A River Alive by Robert MacFarlane on how rivers are not soulless resources for human consumption but rather living beings.

What are you working on—professionally or personally—these days?

My upcoming book is based on a viral essay I wrote on travel a year ago. It’s the most exciting thing I’ve ever done.

Oh, very exciting! Based on what you’ve learned and experienced so far in the world of book publishing, what’s your top tip for aspiring non-fiction authors?

Writing a good book proposal is key. I took this workshop by Edgar Gomez, a brilliant non-fiction writer who really studied the ins and outs of a good book proposal. We as creatives LOVE to talk about the fun stuff, which is being creative, but the way publishing works today is very business-oriented. So understanding your “comparative titles”, which are books in your genre that are similar to yours in theme and audience, is really key.

Do you have any small rituals that help you feel grounded, wherever you are?

Three things: Starting the morning with coffee. Walking, long walks. And meditation. In a new place, if I can find a park and sit on a bench to meditate for 10 minutes, I’m mostly fine.

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Subscribe to Sema’s Substack and follow her on Instagram to stay in touch!

Thanks for reading! If you have any questions for Sema or me, drop them in the comments below.

See you soon,

Alexis

P.S. If you enjoyed this post, hit the ♡ button below and/or share it to help others find it. To further support my work, consider buying me a coffee (on repeat). Thanks so much.

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My May reads were mainly memoirs about loss and grief, but you don’t have to be in the thick of it to enjoy these books; at least I don’t think so. I’ll list them all (+ a few others from different genres below). If you have any fun summer reading recs or are looking for recs, feel free to leave a comment! For anyone who’s willing to chime in, I’m looking for some light reads for June and July. I’m almost done with Famesick by (not light, but I admire her raw and honest writing and how she manages to inject humor in all the right places). Next up for me is Valley of the Moms by (check out her interview about the business of books here).

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Lost & Found by Kathryn Schulz

Great memoir on losing and finding love (and I think also yourself) and how, although we try, we can never really experience anything in life in isolation. Love/hate, joy/sorrow, and so on.

You Could Make This Place Beautiful by

Beautiful writing, unexpected (and unique) non-chronological structure with flash essays and other excerpts as Maggie Smith navigated divorce and her version of acceptance and starting over. It felt like I was on the journey with the author; she’s still learning and isn’t trying to convince us otherwise. I finished the book feeling hopeful, optimistic, and inspired.

So Sorry for Your Loss by

Honest, funny, and practical memoir/guide on loss and grief—a topic we should all be talking about more openly! Thank you, Dina!

Margo’s Got Money Troubles by Rufi Thorpe

Margo, the child of a Hooters waitress and ex-pro wrestler, has an affair with her English professor, gets pregnant, decides to keep the baby, and then sets up an OnlyFans account to earn a living—and support her new baby—from home. Highly entertaining, and the series on Apple TV is also great! It’s impossible not to love all the characters.

Before and After the Book Deal by

I’m technically not finished with this one, but I did complete the “before” section, which is all I need to know at this point in my memoir-writing/book-proposal journey. I love that Courtney Maum writes straight to the point, without fluff, and she’s funny! It makes book publishing feel a little less daunting, but the book also sets realistic expectations.

See you soon,

Alexis

P.S. If you enjoyed this post, hit the ♡ button below and/or share it to help others find it. To further support my work, consider buying me a coffee (on repeat). Thanks so much.

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I’m writing today from Schiphol Airport. I’ve been up since 4:30 am, so I'm knackered. K. and I are headed to Pennsylvania for a small gathering to celebrate my mom at her childhood home this weekend, so it feels like a good time to share a related tiny (exactly 100-word) story that I’ve been writing and rewriting for a few weeks. It’s time to let it go! You’ll receive this while I’m in the air, but feel free to say hi in the comments, and I’ll reply soon from the land of jet lag. ♡

Her silk scarf

“You look like Granny!” my 10-year-old niece said, smiling, eyes wide.

I was showing her my outfit for my mom’s celebration of life. The silk scarf I inherited was draped over my shoulders. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I noticed my red, puffy face as I looked at my niece through my iPhone.

“Oh no,” she said. “I made you cry again.”

The last time was on another video call, when she sang a song she wrote for Granny. Something about the clouds, the sky, and being free.

“It’s OK,” I said. “I’m happy to share these moments with you.”

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See you soon,

Alexis

P.S. If you enjoyed this post, hit the ♡ button below and/or share it to help others find it. To further support my work, consider buying me a coffee (on repeat). Thanks so much.