A year older, still learning

Reflections on midlife change, wild experimentation, embodiment, and learning to build without burning out.

As I step into January, I find myself looking back at last year with a mix of fondness, shock, and, unexpectedly, a growing sense of clarity.

It was one of those years that reshapes you, whether you are ready or not.

I entered it without a job, firmly in midlife, asking questions I never imagined I would be asking so loudly. How did I end up here? What happens when the structure you have relied on disappears? What do you do when the path that once felt obvious no longer calls you back?

When I was younger, I assumed that by this stage of life things would feel more settled and resolved. Instead, I found myself standing in uncertainty, carrying unprocessed grief, frustration, and a deep questioning of identity, relevance, and direction.

At first, I did what many people do. I updated my LinkedIn, applied for jobs, and tried to imagine myself stepping back into familiar roles and rhythms. But very quickly, I realised how exhausting it felt to sell myself relentlessly, to network with urgency, and to chase opportunities that no longer quite fit. It took me longer than I expected to admit that I no longer wanted what I was working so hard to return to.

At the same time, ideas were arriving from everywhere, often faster than I could make sense of them. Thoughts of starting my own business sat alongside Slavic food traditions, beetroot kvass, herbalism, dog-inspired offerings, and even AI-driven services. It was a year of wild experimentation, messy and at times overwhelming, but also part of a deeper process of shedding old identities, following curiosity, and searching for a spark I thought I had lost.

What I did not expect was how destabilising that in-between space could feel.

Imposter syndrome has a way of getting louder when familiar structures fall away. There were moments when fear felt surprisingly intense, moments when my own thoughts caught me off guard. I had to learn how to meet that fear without letting it run the show.

Breathwork became my anchor, not as a fix or a shortcut, but as a way back into my body. Through training, retreats, and a long season of hibernation, I slowly began to reorient away from living almost entirely in my head and back into something more grounded and embodied.

Looking back now, a few truths have stayed with me. Not as rules or resolutions, but as things I came to understand over time.

Career and identity
Midlife does not arrive with instant wisdom, but it does sharpen discernment and invite better questions. Losing structure can feel terrifying before it begins to feel freeing. Not wanting what you once wanted is information rather than failure, and selling yourself endlessly becomes exhausting when something no longer fits. You do not need a five-year plan in order to take the next step.

Doubt and self-worth
Imposter syndrome often gets louder when you are doing something that matters. Curiosity can look chaotic before it turns into clarity, and fear does not disappear so much as lose its authority when you stop obeying it. Pausing is not the same as giving up, though it does come with consequences, and visibility does not have to mean performance, but it does require presence.

Body and nervous system
We live far too much in our heads, often ignoring what the body is quietly trying to tell us. Over time, I have learned that nervous systems matter more than willpower, and that steadiness cannot be forced through thought alone.

Creativity and joy
Gentleness is not weakness, and playfulness is not optional. It is how we feel alive again. Joy does not mean life is easy, but it does mean we are still open to it, and not everything needs to be serious in order to be meaningful.

One of the wilder reminders last year came through a plant medicine journey, which brought me back to something I had neglected for years: playfulness, joy, and a more feminine way of moving through life. Not as escape or indulgence, but as balance.

Support and steadiness
There was one constant throughout this year, and that was my husband. His patience and steady presence gave me the space to ask questions, experiment, and move more slowly than the world often expects, without trying to rush or resolve anything.

And then there were our dogs, faithful and grounding, and entirely uninterested in my career questions. They pulled me outside when my thoughts spiralled, insisted on routine when I lost it, and reminded me daily that being alive is not a problem to solve.

Becoming
Small steps continue to matter more than dramatic reinvention. Building something new can be lonely and exhilarating at the same time, and you never fully arrive, which I am slowly learning is not a problem to fix.

One of the shifts for me has been realising that I do not believe every lived experience needs to be packaged, explained, or converted into wisdom for others. Some things are simply meant to be lived.

As this year unfolds, something new is beginning to take shape.

In the coming months, I will be opening the door to breathwork and body-based sessions, not as a promise to fix anything, but as a space to pause, feel, and reconnect.

I am stepping into this year differently, without rushing or hiding, and without dwelling in struggle, but also without pretending it does not exist.

If you are somewhere in the middle, navigating midlife change and trying to stay visible and human at the same time, I see you.

You are not alone, and I would love to walk alongside you, wherever you are.