What is this all for?
About five years ago, on a rare quiet Tuesday afternoon in my converted garden shed office, with my vision boards and prayer lists all in view, a question slipped into my mind that I wasn't prepared to answer: Is this it? Is this all I'm here for?
I was intermittent fasting, sleeping well, spending time with God, marriage and children thriving, partner in my GP practice, household mostly under control, running an outreach ministry at church, training for a triathlon (don't ask what happened to that!), fitter than I'd ever been in my adult life... yet on the brink of burnout, wondering what this was all for.
This wasn't the first time I'd had this stirring, but it was the first time I had enough presence of mind to really pay attention to it. And it was the search for that answer that pulled me back from the brink. I'm still living into it now, one conversation, one piece of writing, one woman at a time. This newsletter is part of it. The work I do with women like you is part of it.
I tell you this because I think some of you are hearing a version of that same question.
Over the last few newsletters we've talked about brain fog, blood sugar, sleep, your morning routine. Of course, focusing on how we can live long, healthy, productive lives is important. But here's what I've noticed, in my own life and in the women I work with: when your health improves, it doesn't just give you back the ability to remember where you left your car keys. It gives you back the ability to actually think about your life. And that can be a surprisingly unsettling gift.
Because once the fog lifts, you start to notice things you'd been too tired to see. The career that pays well but hasn't excited you in years. The fact that your youngest is nearly old enough to leave, and you can't quite picture what you'll be doing with your evenings. The dream you had at 28 that you folded up carefully, placed somewhere safe, and haven't looked at since. You told yourself you'd come back to it. You're not sure anymore whether you meant it or whether you were just being kind to yourself.
I think about a woman I'll call Ada. She's 47, sharp, accomplished. She runs a department, runs a household, runs the youth ministry at church, and makes it all look smooth from the outside. Her children are teenagers now, nearly grown. Her parents back home need more from her with every passing year. She's been in this rhythm for so long that it has become her identity: the woman who holds everything together.
But recently, in the rare moments when she's still, something stirs: a low, persistent hum she can hear when the noise stops. Is this it? Is this all she's meant to do with her life? She feels almost guilty for asking, because by every external measure, she has built something good. And she has. But the question doesn't care about external measures.
That stirring you feel is not a sign that something is wrong with you. It's the opposite, actually. It means something in you is waking up, and it has been waiting a long time to be heard.
Midlife is not the beginning of decline. I know the world tries to tell us that, particularly as women, particularly as women whose bodies are visibly changing. But what if this season is actually a recalibration? The first half of your life was built around necessity: establish yourself, raise your children, provide for your family, prove yourself professionally, serve your community. You did all of that magnificently (well, at least 80% of the time 😜). But necessity and calling are not always the same thing, and the second half of your life gets to be shaped by something deeper.
Research confirms what many of us feel instinctively: having a strong sense of purpose is associated with better cognitive function, lower inflammation, and reduced cardiovascular risk. The health work you've been doing and the purpose work aren't separate tracks. They feed each other. Your brain doesn't just need protein and sleep. It needs something to wake up for.
So if you've noticed that stirring, I want to invite you to do three things.
Name it. Say it out loud or write it down. "There is something more I want to do with my life, and I don't fully know what it is yet." You don't need to have the answer. You just need to stop pretending the question isn't there.
Make space for it. I don't mean a five-year plan or a vision board. I mean thirty minutes a week where you are not being someone's mother, someone's wife, someone's employee, someone's minister. Thirty minutes where the only question is: what would I do if I had permission? You might be surprised what comes to the surface when you give it room.
Stop apologising for wanting more. Wanting more does not mean you're ungrateful for what you have. It means you are alive and paying attention. The woman who says "is this it?" is not being selfish. She's being honest. And honesty is where every good thing starts.
You spent the first season building. This season, you get to choose what you're building towards.
