Midlife ... what does it all mean?!

Five years ago I kicked off my fabulous forties with a spring in my step. Thirties had been tumultuous and aside from the obvious lovelies of getting married, buying our first home and professional success, that decade was in fact... hard going. I wrestled with my womanhood and how I was to inhabit this body that wasn't doing what every other woman around me seemed to be doing with ease. When the lottery of life eventually did gift me a shot at motherhood, I was sure in my bones that I would never ask or need or want for anything else ever again. Then hit the matrescence identity crisis so many of us experience, along with a career pivot away from newsrooms, and suddenly feeling inexplicably crap at, well, just about everything. So, thirties had been a grind to say the least, and I marched into my forties, feeling fresh out of f***s, with my new "go me!" mindset. I kinda felt like superwoman -- able to have it all, choosing not to have it all at the same time, and finally feeling guilt free about all the me, me, me. This was my decade!

Middle-aged-podcaster! Recording the "Changing the Ovarian Cancer Story" podcast

And then, yesterday, half way through that decade, my forties turned somewhat abruptly into my mid-forties, midlife, middle-age. Yup... 45 was upon me. I have friends who decry me for saying i'm "middle-aged" (probably because they're older than me, ha!) but let's be honest, the maths makes sense and 90 would be a seriously good innings in the current climate. Plus my husband assures me that by his calculations we'll be able to retire comfortably for about 12 minutes when we're 85.

Truth is i'm not afraid of being middle-aged but i'm just not sure what the world expects of me now???

I fear there's an assumption that I must now be a responsible, sensible, serious adult -- And i'm not sure i'm here for that just yet. Evidence of this can be found in my purchase of high street jeans reminiscent of All Saints circa 1996 and some bright red plimsolls with more than a whiff of Judy and Oz. Dear reader, it turns out that 45 year old me really shouldn't attempt a look I failed to rock 30 years earlier.

So, I find myself now (45yrs +1 day), as a middle-aged mother, grappling with my value and purpose and contribution to this crazy world of ours.

"Colin the Caterpillar" IYKYK

more cake, no more martini

While i'll leave this existential pondering for now (and feel free to comment on or share your own musings), I will add that the day itself, yesterday, was gorgeous. Filled with family, friends, flowers, cards, cake, coffee, brunch and cocktails. Easter holidays are upon us and i'm looking forward to getting these middle-aged muscles into some Welsh water over the next few weeks...

watch this space for a wild swimming post!