Finding Yourself in Midlife

Nobody warned me about midlife puberty. If I’d known, I would have kept my training bra.

The first time around, I woke up to mood swings, hair growing in places it wasn’t invited, and skin that looked like a mall map. And don’t even get me started on the boobs.

I’m going through the same thing again.

I didn’t enjoy it the first time, and I made sure nobody else did, either. Just ask my parents. They paid the bills and had all the responsibility. I spent my days rolling my eyes so often that it’s a miracle they’re facing forward today.

I assumed that when I reached their age, I’d have everything figured out.

I thought that was the deal. You picked a career, found your person, and eventually became one of those adults who knew what the hell they were doing.

Life was supposed to look like the straight line on this Dolly Mama’s sign.

The universe had different plans for me.

And now I’m standing here looking at her other sign, wondering if that tangled mess comes with a “You are here” sticker.

And somehow, I’m still wondering what I want to be when I grow up.

My friends are asking themselves the same thing. Lately, our conversations keep coming back to one question: What do we want this next part of our lives to look like?

Some of us want to try something completely different. Some want to get back to something we gave up. And some of us just know we want a change. We’re not sure what we want, but we’re pretty damn sure this isn’t it.

The first time around, we worried about fitting in, being liked, and what everyone thought of us.

This time, I’m more interested in figuring out what I like and what gives me joy.

Which sounds easy until you actually ask yourself.

What do I want to do? What would make me excited enough to get out of bed, besides coffee? What would I try if I could get through five minutes of an idea without explaining to myself why it won’t work?

And that got me thinking: Before I worried about making a living, what did I love doing just for fun?

Barbies.

I didn’t really care about role-playing. Barbie could have whatever relationship problems she wanted. I was busy redecorating her place and designing her clothes.

Her marriage might have been falling apart, but she looked fabulous sitting in her living room.

I also liked taking pictures of Barbie and Ken doing things that would have gotten them evicted from the Dreamhouse. But in my defense, my cousin was directing, and we were smoking something that definitely wasn’t oregano.

I was always more interested in making Barbie’s clothes than figuring out where she’d wear them.

Who knew I could take my Barbie wardrobe to the Fashion Institute of Technology and turn it into a career. I might have ended up designing for women who could actually bend their knees.

Then it occurred to me: I’m not dead.

My age shouldn’t get to decide what I can and cannot try.

I can go back to school to design clothes for women who want to flaunt what they’ve got and hide whatever showed up after menopause.

I already have the name… Haute Flash Couture.

Then the practical part of my brain joins the conversation.

With what money, Joey? And who’s going to work while you’re doing that? Just because Barbie could pay for her Dreamhouse with Monopoly money doesn’t mean you can wave a pink fifty at a coffee shop and tell them to keep the change.

And that’s where so many of our ideas stop.

We have responsibilities. We can’t all drop everything, enroll in school, and hope enthusiasm covers the mortgage.

But maybe I’m making the first step bigger than it needs to be.

Maybe I could start by making one thing I’d love to wear.

I could play with fabric again. See what happens. Find out whether I enjoy the actual doing as much as the idea.

I don’t have to figure out an entire future before I’m allowed to begin.

Neither do you.

Maybe you loved writing stories, planting things, singing, baking, or rearranging your bedroom every other weekend. There might be something in those memories worth visiting.

It doesn’t have to become a business. It doesn’t have to impress anybody. We’re allowed to do something simply because we want more of it in our lives.

We’ve spent a lot of years learning how to be responsible. I think we can trust ourselves with a little curiosity.

So if you’re wondering what you want to be when you grow up, maybe spend some time with the girl you used to be.

I think that’s the best part of midlife puberty. The woman looking back at us in the mirror has learned a few things, but the young girl inside us still wants to play.

Turns out, I don’t need my training bra after all. But I should probably put on my support bra for everyone’s safety.

❤️ joey