This year, I have several friends turning forty, while a few recently celebrated their forty-fifth. In just a few weeks, I’ll be turning forty-three myself. Among us, there’s a quiet desperation creeping in as we hit these milestones or navigate the murky waters of middle age. It’s not about our kids, our marriages, or even our careers. Instead, it’s an oddly familiar feeling—the same quiet desperation that often accompanies graduations or major life transitions—a lingering question of, Now what?
Sure, there are the inevitable snippets of skincare recommendations (or, as one friend aptly coined it, “the war on wrinkles”), but underneath it all, there’s a much deeper, more philosophical reckoning. It’s a subtle yet pervasive longing to redefine who we are, to reconcile who we’ve become with who we once imagined we’d be. It’s a quest for purpose beyond the roles we play, a yearning for something intangible yet undeniably essential: a sense of meaning that carries us forward into the next chapter of our lives.
I have started, abandoned, and sometimes finished so many things in my life. Often, I’ve been sidelined or distracted by the pressing needs of others, but more often, I’ve been petrified—paralyzed by the fear of rejection or failure. My sensitivity, which I know is a strength, is also a constant source of brutal anxiety. It’s something I carry with me daily, a shadow that can cripple me unexpectedly. If you’ve been with me for a while, you may have seen me share bits and pieces of this before.
So, what’s changed?
Honestly, nothing—at least, nothing dramatic. Except that I’m older now, and with age comes a kind of wisdom that only experience can teach. The wisdom to see that fear will always be there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but it doesn’t have to rule me. The wisdom to understand that rejection and failure are not signs to stop but invitations to grow.
Most importantly, I’m learning that starting over isn’t a weakness. Abandoned projects, half-finished dreams—they aren’t failures. They’re proof of trying, of daring, of living. And as long as I keep trying, I’m not done.
Maybe you needed to hear this today, too. That it’s okay to start, stop, and start again. That fear doesn’t make you weak; it makes you human. And that the only real failure is in giving up completely. Perhaps you’re also navigating this middle chapter of life—the phase where we reclaim or redefine pieces of ourselves that naturally fade in our thirties, only to resurface a decade later, enriched with stories and lessons spanning the spectrum.
So here I am, starting again. Not perfectly, not fearlessly, but with enough courage to try.
Here’s to 2025! If you’re feeling a quiet urgency to truly live and make the most of this middle chapter, let’s do it!
The Forty Files 