What Still Makes You You in Midlife

Have you ever looked at your life and thought, I should be fine?

Nothing is technically wrong.

You're functioning.

You're showing up.

From the outside, things look stable, maybe even good.

And yet something feels off.

Not dramatic, not urgent, just this low level, unsettled feeling that you can't quite explain.

If you've ever thought or why do I feel like this when my life looks fine, then this episode is for you.

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Aging with Grace and style in our own special way.

Welcome to Aging with Grace and Style, the podcast for women over 50 who want to move forward with confidence without reinventing their lives.

I'm your host, Valerie Hatcher, and each week we take the pressure off of midlife by making it honest, practical and doable.

And if you're ready to feel seen, steady and confident in this season, this then you're in the right place today.

We're not here to fix anything.

We're not here to diagnose you.

And we're definitely not here to tell you to be more grateful or positive.

We're just going to name something real, something a lot of women are quietly carrying but rarely talk about.

That unsettled feeling.

The kind that shows up when you finally have a little space to breathe.

And instead of relief, you feel confused.

Here's what makes this feeling so disorienting.

You did everything you were supposed to do.

You raised good humans, you built a career, you showed up for people.

You kept your commitments, you handled the hard things.

And now, for the first time in decades, things are lighter.

The daily urgency has eased.

The constant demands have quieted.

You finally have the margin that you once craved.

And instead of feeling peaceful, you feel adrift.

Like you climbed a mountain that you were told would have a view at the top.

And when you got there, it was just fog.

I've had seasons like this where I'd sit with myself and think, why am I restless?

Why don't I feel as grounded as I thought I would by now?

There wasn't a crisis.

There wasn't some big blow up moment, just a quiet awareness that something inside me was shifting and I didn't have language for it yet.

And when you don't have language, it's easy to assume that something is wrong.

I remember one Saturday morning I'd slept in something that I never do.

I made coffee, slowly, sat on the patio, which is my favorite place.

I had nowhere I needed to be it should have felt great.

Instead, I felt untethered, like I was supposed to be doing something, but I couldn't remember what.

And then it hit me.

There was nothing that I was supposed to be doing.

That was the point.

But my nervous system hadn't gotten the memo.

Because here's the thing about living at full capacity for decades.

Your body gets used to it.

The adrenaline, the mental load, the constant low level vigilance.

And when that pressure lifts, your body doesn't immediately celebrate.

Or at least mine doesn't.

It goes looking for the next thing to manage.

You might find yourself checking your phone even though you know nothing urgent is coming.

Or mentally running through Tomorrow's schedule at 10pm Feeling guilty when you sit still for more than 20 minutes.

Creating problems to solve.

Because solving problems is what feels familiar for me.

It showed up as this restless energy I couldn't quite place.

I'd start a book and put it down.

After three pages.

I planned to relax and end up reorganizing something.

I wasn't avoiding rest because I didn't want it.

I was avoiding it because I'd forgotten how to receive it.

This feeling isn't dissatisfaction.

It isn't ingratitude.

It isn't failure.

It's transition.

And transitions don't always announce themselves with fireworks.

Sometimes they show up as a subtle discomfort that you just can't shake.

Something's different that you can't quite name.

This is incredibly common in midlife, especially for women.

By the time you reach your 50s, a lot has changed.

Roles have shifted or loosened.

Kids may be grown or growing independent careers.

They don't look the way that you imagine.

Your body communicates differently.

Your tolerance for things that drain you is much lower.

And suddenly the structures that once gave you identity don't fit the same way now.

That doesn't mean you're lost.

It means you're in between.

Between who you've been and who you're becoming.

Between what used to matter and what matters now.

Between old definitions and new ones that haven't quite formed yet.

And here's what nobody tells you about the in between.

It's supposed to feel uncomfortable because you're standing in a space where the old rules don't apply anymore, but the new ones haven't been written yet.

You're fluent in one language, the language of responsibility, of managing, of showing up.

But you're being asked to learn a new one.

A language of choice, of desire, of just being.

And that language.

It feels foreign at first.

Here's why this unsettled Feeling can be so confusing.

Midlife is one of the only seasons where everything changes at once.

Your inner world, your responsibilities, your energy, your priorities, your relationships, your body, your sense of time.

But culturally, we don't talk about midlife as a transition.

We talk about it like it's a problem to solve, like something to get through or to get over.

So instead of saying, I'm evolving, we say, what's wrong with me?

Instead of curiosity, we jump straight to judgment.

And the silence around this, it doesn't help.

When you're younger, every transition gets named and celebrated.

Graduating, getting married, having kids, career milestones.

There are greeting cards, there are rituals, there's language for it.

But this transition, the one where you're still here, still functioning, still capable, but fundamentally different than you were five years ago, we don't talk about it.

So you're left thinking it's just you.

That everyone else sailed through their 50s or their 60s without this strange sense of displacement, but they didn't.

They just didn't say it out loud either.

I hear this from listeners all the time.

One woman messaged me recently and said, nothing is falling apart, but nothing feels settled either.

I've done what I was supposed to do.

I raised my kids.

I built a career.

I kept everything moving.

And now that things are quieter, I don't know why I feel so restless.

I keep telling myself I should be grateful, but instead I feel off.

And when I read that, I thought, there it is.

Because we've been taught that if your life looks fine on paper, then you're not allowed to question it.

But feeling unsettled doesn't mean you don't appreciate your life.

It means you're awake inside it.

And awareness often feels uncomfortable before.

It feels empowering.

Now, let me be clear about what this isn't.

This isn't a midlife crisis.

A crisis implies something has gone wrong or something needs immediate fixing.

This is more like a midlife awakening, A slow realization that the life you built, the one you're genuinely proud of, was built for a version of you that's evolving.

And now you're being asked to inhabit it differently, that's not a crisis.

That's growth.

Uncomfortable growth, yes, but growth nonetheless.

If you've ever said to yourself, I don't know what's next, but I know it's not this.

You're not behind.

You're listening.

And listening is the first step.

I've noticed that this feeling usually shows up for me in the quiet moments.

Not when I'm busy.

Not when I'm needed.

But when things slow down, when the noise fades, that's when the questions surface.

For a long time, I tried to outrun those questions.

I'd fill the quiet with podcasts, with errands, with plans, anything to avoid sitting in that uncomfortable not knowing.

But over time and again, I am still a work in progress.

I've started to realize something.

That the questions aren't the problem.

The avoidance is.

Because every time I rush to fill the space, I'm essentially telling myself, you're not allowed to not know right now.

And, girl, that's exhausting.

So instead of rushing to answer them right now, I let myself sit with them longer than I used to.

I pour a cup of tea or coffee and sit on that patio and just be with the discomfort.

Not analyzing it, not solving it, just acknowledging it.

Okay, this is how I feel right now.

And that's allowed.

And you know what happens?

The questions, they don't go away, but they've stopped feeling so urgent.

That alone has changed how steady I feel.

Because here's what I've come to understand.

The unsettled feeling isn't a sign that something's wrong.

It's a sign that something's ready to shift.

Your life is asking you to pay attention, not to fix everything immediately, just to notice what's true now that wasn't true before.

What used to energize you that now drains you.

What you used to tolerate that you can't anymore.

What you used to prioritize, that doesn't feel essential now.

These aren't problems to solve.

They're data points, information, or clues.

I want to name a few things that absolutely don't help when you're feeling this way.

Because chances are you've tried at least one of them.

Forcing gratitude.

Telling yourself that you should just be grateful for what you have.

Gratitude is real and is valuable, but it's not a bypass.

You can be genuinely grateful for your life and feel unsettled about where you are in it.

Those two things can coexist.

Another is comparing yourself to others.

So looking around at other women who seem to have it figured out.

Trust me, they don't.

They're just not posting about the unsettled part or staying busy to avoid the feeling.

Feeling every moment so you don't have to sit with discomfort.

This works temporarily, but the feeling waits.

And the longer you avoid it, the louder it gets.

Here's the only thing I want you to consider this week.

Nothing more.

Instead of asking, what do I need to fix?

Try asking, what is this Season asking of me.

That question doesn't demand an immediate answer.

It creates space.

And space is where clarity begins to form.

Maybe the season is asking you to rest more than you produce.

Maybe it's asking you to let go of relationships that no longer fit.

Maybe it's asking you to stop performing competence and just be honest about what you don't know.

Maybe it's asking you to grieve what's ending so that you can welcome what's beginning.

You don't have to know the answer today, but the question itself is generous.

You don't need to rush through this feeling.

You don't need to label it quickly.

And you don't need to compare your timeline to someone else's.

Unsettled doesn't mean unstable.

It means something new is forming.

And formation takes time.

Think about it this way.

When a seed is underground, pushing through soil, breaking open, it doesn't look like growth yet.

It looks like nothing.

But everything is happening beneath the surface.

That's where you are right now.

Heck, that's where I am right now.

Not nowhere, not stuck, just underground for a moment.

You don't need a five step plan, but here are a few small things that might help you feel less alone in this.

Number one.

Name it out loud, even just to yourself, in a journal, in a voice memo.

I feel unsettled and I don't know why yet.

And that's okay.

Number two.

Notice without judgment.

Pay attention to when the feeling is strongest.

Is it on a Sunday evening after a busy week when you're alone?

Just notice.

Don't fix, just notice.

Give yourself permission to not have it figured out.

You have spent decades having answers, making decisions, knowing what to do.

This season is allowed to be different.

Here's a question to sit with.

Maybe journal on it.

Maybe just notice what comes up.

Where in my life do I feel unsettled?

And what might that feeling be trying to tell me?

No pressure to answer it perfectly.

Just listen.

And if the answer is I don't know yet, then you know what?

That's a complete answer.

Before we wrap up, I want to leave you with this.

You do not need to reinvent your life to move forward in this season.

You don't need a new personality, a new identity, or a dramatic reset.

You already have wisdom.

You already have experience.

You already have a life that's been lived.

And if right now all you can do is notice what feels unsettled, then that's enough.

This season is not about starting over.

It's about giving yourself permission to pause, listen, and trust that clarity will come in its own time.

No reinvention required.

Just grace, style, and a touch of sass.

Exactly as you are.

I'll see you next week.

Thanks for hanging out with me today.

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Until next time, keep shining with grace, style, and a touch of sass.