Midlife, is that you?

Not young, not old... just confused.

Hello there,

I’m turning 40 this year, and I couldn’t be more excited. Another year older, another year wiser—and hey, aging beats the alternative. I think I’m aging gracefully, but I’m not sure who the judge is, so let’s just say I’m doing OK.

Lately, I’ve noticed a few more gray hairs on my head—and, well, down there—but who’s counting, right? This phase of life is confusing. I don’t consider myself “young” anymore, but I’m also not “old.” I’m somewhere in between, which I guess means I’ve entered midlife. And I often wonder… am I having a midlife crisis? Between night sweats, existential dread, my mom’s Alzheimer’s journey, and still not knowing what I want to be when I grow up, I’m more confused than ever.

I thought I’d have life mostly figured out by now. I don’t—and I’m starting to accept that I never will. I have day-to-day purposes: running my freelance writing business, exploring creative outlets like oil painting, photography, and personal writing, training to become a professional padel player (in my dreams), and traveling. But what’s my bigger purpose? That’s the part I’m still searching for. Logically, I know I always will be. But emotionally? I want answers. Now.

Take my divorce in 2019—when I had no clue what came next, I packed a suitcase for a three-month Euro trip. Five and a half years later, I own an apartment in Amsterdam, most of my clients are in Europe, and I have no plans to return to the U.S. These major life pivots seem impossible at first, but if you keep moving forward and see change as an opportunity to grow, it’s like a new door blows wide open.

Whether you walk through that door or close it out of fear is another story. I tend to sprint through it without thinking. Sometimes I run straight into a wall and fall flat on my face, but failing is part of figuring out what works, what doesn’t, what you want, and what you don’t want. It’s easy to say (or write) that, but taking action is another thing entirely.

I’ve been feeling stuck—unsure of what’s next. I don’t want kids. I don’t have lofty career goals (as long as I can afford my desired lifestyle, I’m good). So am I searching for something that doesn’t exist? Am I just feeling restless with midlife’s consistency? Am I trying to ruffle my own feathers? I don’t know.

But maybe I don’t need to know. Maybe the meaning comes from writing and reflecting, from staying open to whatever happens next. And if nothing else, maybe I’ll connect with other women who feel just as weirded out by this phase of life as I do.

See you soon,

Alexis