Tag Archives: midlife

Chapter 39

There are years that test us, and years that embrace us. I’m grateful that my 39th year has been the latter. In lots of little ways I’ve felt held —

in the abundance of cherry tomatoes from our new garden;
my first glimpse of stars from our backyard in the suburbs;
each time Jay and I drop our boys off with my parents;
through “Hellos” and connections with new neighbors;
sweet messages and meetups with old friends from Chicago;
a perfect latte from a local coffee shop;
by the words of writers and musicians who move me;
walking Miami beach in deep talks with my college girlfriends;
date nights with Jay, especially to see theater or live music;
prayers sent out by family and friends;
when my boys ask for lullabies or games of catch;
and capturing it all on the page, writing. Always writing.

In my calls to write and mother, I spent the bulk of the year planting seeds and nurturing unseen growth. From potty training to helping the boys acclimate to new schools, we’ve conquered several transitions. Freelance projects have come and gone, I managed to keep my Substack alive in the midst of our move. I set aside one manuscript (for now) and started writing another. The work of raising kind humans and putting warm words into the world feels more urgent than ever. 

Selling our Chicago home in 2024 was a real trust fall with God. I’m grateful our family landed in such a beautiful house and community this past August. Starting over socially hasn’t been easy. Once a week, I remind myself of a dear friend’s advice to be “the very best version of myself,” trusting that, with time, I’ll cultivate great relationships here.

Today, on my 40th birthday, I’m more at home in myself than I’ve ever felt before. This confidence was hard won; at 38, I experienced a dark night of the soul from which I’m still healing. A commitment to caring for my physical and mental health, plus gaining a greater understanding of how my mind works, has been transformative. God’s grace was evident in the ones whose love carried me when I most needed it.

If I could tell my younger self anything, I’d hug her and whisper, “You are stronger than you think you are. Trust yourself. Believe in your goodness.”

On the cusp of 40

She is at the age where
Instagram serves her ads for Botox,
at the age where faint wrinkles indent
the edges of her cheeks, and it seems

her skin is a problem to be solved, as if
“She smiled too much” could be written
on her gravestone.

In her twenties, she almost lost
a job because she was
“too nice.” Still, they hired her.
Now she’s old enough to know
there’s nothing nice about
people-pleasing.

She heard on a podcast that
when women face menopause,
our bodies and minds will suffer,

the suffering is real
but she’s letting go
of the idea that her best days
are behind her — she’s holding onto
her smile, she’s determined to live
the next 40 years concerned with
her own pleasure.

She’s driving into a new decade, windows down,
hair dancing in the breeze, Kacey Musgraves cranked
loud, singing “I’ve got to take care of myself,” she’s
feasting on salmon, pasta and chocolate, walking
into rooms with her head held high, lifting weights
and finding her own strength, making waves, making
goals, making love, devouring — and making — juicy poems.

Midlife is a death sentence?
She’s not letting herself go
there. At 39, she’s on the cusp of
becoming. Her gravestone will read:
She wrote and lived beautiful stories.
Until the end, she held onto
her smile.

// This post is part of a blog hop with author Lindsay Swoboda in support of her book Holding On and Letting Go: A Life in Motion.

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