Forty, Frazzled & Figuring It Out 

As I sit down to write for the first time, I can’t help but dwell on one depressing realization: I’m officially middle-aged. 

It’s weird because my brain still thinks I’m somewhere around 23. Then I catch my reflection and—bam—there are the gray hairs staging a hostile takeover and those little wrinkles around my eyes that definitely weren’t there yesterday. 

I’m only 40, but considering the average woman in the U.S. lives to around 80, I suppose I have to accept that I’m halfway through this adventure. That’s…sobering. 

Some days I feel like I’ve accomplished a lot in my first half of life. Other days I wonder what exactly I’ve been doing all this time. 

On paper, I’d probably be considered successful. I have a doctorate degree, a good career (stable, but let’s be honest—not exactly thrilling), a wonderful husband, and two adorable little crotch goblins who simultaneously exhaust me and give my life meaning. 

Overall, I’d say I’m happy. 

But I’m also bored. 

Not “I need a new Netflix show” bored. More like “I need something that scares and excites me a little” bored. 

After spending far too much time overthinking it (one of my many talents), I’ve come up with a few goals. 

1. Prioritize My Health 

This one is long overdue. 

I’d like to lose about 50 pounds—not because I think a number on the scale defines me, but because I want to feel healthy and comfortable in my own skin again. 

Lately, I’ve found myself hiding behind oversized clothes and avoiding photos. That’s not how I want to live. More importantly, it’s not the example I want to set for my daughter. I want her to grow up seeing a mom who takes care of herself because she values herself. 

2. Learn Something New 

I’ve always loved learning. 

I work at a university, so I plan to take a class on something completely different from my day job. I have absolutely no idea what that will be yet, but that’s part of the fun. 

I’ll keep you posted. 

3. Write a Book 

This one feels equal parts exciting and terrifying. 

I’ve never considered myself a writer, but I’ve always been an avid reader. I’ve spent decades enjoying other people’s stories, so maybe it’s time to try telling one of my own. 

Will anyone read it? 

Who knows. 

Will it be any good? 

Also unknown. 

But I’d rather write a terrible first draft than spend the next twenty years wondering if I could have done it. 

Which brings me to this blog. 

I don’t expect writing here to magically solve my midlife restlessness, but I do hope it’ll keep me accountable—and maybe provide a little entertainment along the way. 

So, a little about me. 

I’m 40 years old and officially embracing the “middle-aged” label, whether I like it or not. 

I’ve been married for 13 years and with my husband, D, for 20. He’s my best friend. He can irritate me faster than anyone on the planet, but he’s also the person I want beside me when life gets hard. He’s my ride-or-die, even if he routinely leaves his junk around the house like it’s decorative. 

I’ve been a nurse for 18 years and a psychiatric nurse practitioner for the past seven. 

About 11 years ago, I found myself in a similar funk—bored, restless, and craving a challenge. My solution? I started graduate school two weeks after my daughter was born. 

Looking back, I’m still not sure whether that was determination or temporary insanity. 

Three years later, I graduated with my Doctor of Nursing Practice degree, and I’ve been working as a nurse practitioner ever since. 

My husband and I have two amazing kids: an 11-year-old daughter and a 9-year-old son. 

They’re the absolute light of my life. 

But we’ve entered a strange phase of parenting. They still need me…just differently. They don’t need me to tie their shoes or cut up their food anymore. Instead, they’re becoming independent little humans, which is exactly what I’ve always wanted for them. 

It also leaves me wondering what to do with the tiny pieces of myself that are slowly becoming available again. 

Maybe that’s what this chapter of life is really about. 

Rediscovering who I am outside of being everyone’s everything. 

My plan is simple: write a short post every day. 

Some entries will probably be thoughtful. Others may be fueled entirely by caffeine, exhaustion, or whatever ridiculous thing my children said before school. 

Think of it as part diary, part accountability journal, and hopefully a place where other moms can laugh and think, “Thank goodness it’s not just me.” 

If nothing else, maybe we’ll figure out this whole middle-age thing together.