The Forty Files

In six months, I turn 45.

When I started The Forty Files, I had grand plans for this decade. I imagined my forties as the season when everything would shift—and so would I. The decade of confidence. Of clarity. Of becoming.

In many ways, it has been exactly that.

But my forties have also continued to do what life does best: surprise me, humble me, and remind me that the greatest riches have very little to do with money. Good health. Deep friendships. A family that still wants to gather around the dinner table. Ordinary moments that become extraordinary simply because everyone is there to experience them together.

To date, my forties have been what I expected.

And yet…

There is another current running beneath the surface. One no one really prepares you for.

It’s the season when the people around you begin carrying unimaginable weight. Friends lose parents. Marriages end. Cancer enters conversations where vacations and birthday parties used to live. Dreams are rewritten. Families are redefined. The phone rings with news you never wanted to hear.

It feels as though, almost overnight, your peers stop talking about what they want to be when they grow up and start talking about scans, caregiving, estate planning, grief, and rebuilding.

Growing older is a privilege. We say that often because it’s true. But privilege doesn’t mean easy.

It comes with profound reaffirmations of purpose and place. Hardship has a way of stripping away the noise until only what truly matters remains. It sharpens your perspective. It reminds you that tomorrow is promised to no one and that the life you’re waiting to start is already happening.

Lately, I’ve found myself looking honestly at where I am and where I want to go.

Not with regret.

With curiosity.

Because I know the next version of my life requires a shift.

A shift in how I spend my time.

A shift in where I place my energy.

A shift in what I say yes to—and, maybe even more importantly, what I finally have the courage to say no to.

The beautiful thing about getting older is that your priorities become less performative and more personal. You stop chasing what looks impressive and start pursuing what feels meaningful.

Maybe that’s the real gift of midlife.

Not that you’ve figured everything out, but that you’ve finally learned what questions are worth asking.

So as I inch closer to 45, I don’t feel finished.

I feel hungry.

Hungry to create.

To write.

To travel.

To laugh harder.

To love my people more intentionally.

To bet on myself, even when the outcome isn’t guaranteed.

Because if these first forty-four years have taught me anything, it’s that life rarely rewards those who wait until they feel completely ready.

And goodness, no matter how old I get, I hope I never lose the thrill of being just a little terrified. Of raising my hand. Of taking the risk. Of choosing the bigger life anyway.

Maybe this is what midlife is really meant to be.

Not a crisis.

A calling.

A quiet invitation to become more of who you already are.

So here’s my challenge—not just to you, but to myself.

Let’s make the second half of this year a season of boldness, bravery, and becoming.

Do the thing that scares you.

Send the application.

Start the business.

Write the book.

Take the trip.

Speak the truth.

Set the boundary.

Change the career.

Learn the skill.

Risk the rejection.

Embrace the unknown.

Choose courage over comfort.

Practice faith over fear.

Pursue purpose over permission.

Let this be the year we stop waiting for perfect conditions and start trusting imperfect beginnings.

Because the best chapters of our lives aren’t written by standing still.

They’re written the moment we decide to take the chance.

Here’s to 45.

Here’s to being brave enough to begin again.