Midlife Musings — Entry #2

The Truth About Being “Busy” and Being Enough

I’ve Been Unpacking Some Shit Lately

And one thing I’ve realized?

I bought into the belief that you always have to be busy to be worthy.

That being overwhelmed somehow makes you:

• more relatable

• more respectable

• more valuable

Like if you’re not stretched thin, exhausted, and barely holding it together… are you even doing it right?

The Fear I Didn’t Want to Admit

One of my biggest fears has been this:

That I’m not relatable to the average working woman.

I want women to feel seen with me.

I want to understand the stress of not having enough time.

Of carrying too much.

Of feeling like you just can’t do it all.

But if I’m being really honest…

That’s not fully my truth right now.

My Reality (Even If It Feels Uncomfortable to Say Out Loud)

I do have time.

I do have support.

I have a spouse who works extra so I can hold things down at home.

I am seen.

I am loved.

I am safe.

Mike and I are in this for the long haul.

And even writing that feels vulnerable… because part of me still expects it all to disappear.

The Old Story I’m Still Rewriting

Because there’s a part of me, a younger version, that still believes:

Everyone you love leaves.

Losing my mom created a deep abandonment wound that still whispers sometimes.

It shows up quietly.

In thoughts.

In fears.

In moments where I question stability, even when everything is okay.

But I’m starting to see it for what it is:

An old story.

A story that explains me…but does not get to define me.

A story that needs updating.

What “Relatable” Actually Means

The truth is, my life might not look like many women my age.

On paper, it might not seem relatable.

But here’s what I know for sure:

Pain is pain.

Growth is growth.

Reinvention is reinvention.

No matter what your life looks like from the outside.

The Parts of Me That Haven’t Changed

I know what it is to live through hard seasons.

I know grief.

I know fear.

I know identity loss.

I know what it feels like to sit there and wonder:

Where do I even fit anymore?

That doesn’t disappear just because life looks different now.

Still Figuring It Out

I’m not on the other side because I’ve figured it all out.

I’m on the other side because I’m willing to keep going.

Still learning.

Still healing.

Still trying to understand where I fit in this world…

As a woman who is aging in a world that doesn’t always like women who evolve.

Maybe This Is The Point

And maybe…

that’s exactly why I’m meant to do this work.

Not because I have all the answers.

But because I’m willing to sit in the questions and say them out loud.

What's your opinion on this? I would love to fill the comment section here my friends xo