Losing My Mind In a Midlife Crisis

I turned 44 in May and for the last few months, I’ve felt like I don’t recognize myself.

Some days it shows up quietly in a deeply reflective kind of way. Other times, it’s overly dramatic with a mini meltdown full of tears. Moments where I’m overthinking and questioning everything in my life, reassessing the things I thought I wanted, and wondering what the fuck happened to my body.

I realized I’m in the beginning phase of my midlife crisis.

I used to laugh at that idea because society made it seem like something only men experienced. The image was always middle-aged men buying Corvettes and motorcycles, divorcing their wives for 20-year-olds, and growing out whatever hair they had left. No one ever really talked about what this phase looks like for women. When menopause hits, hormones are all over the place, and suddenly your breasts are sagging to your belly button.

Perimenopause is very real, and it snuck up on me like that creep at the club.

I’ve had to take a step back and rethink how I live my life to support this new phase. That meant getting a grip on my terrible sleeping patterns, noticing my weight increasing and my body changing, and recognizing which foods leave me inflamed.

There are so many days where I want to disappear. Very few days where I feel powerful.

I’ve been grieving the old version of myself while trying to figure out who I even am in this next chapter.

It’s beautiful. It’s lonely. Not lonely in the “alone” kind of way, but lonely because so much of this feels unfamiliar. I’m shedding so much of what I used to know and who I used to be.

A midlife crisis and perimenopause at this age feels uncomfortable, sacred, emotional, and oddly exciting all at once. This version of My Very Good Year is one I never could have anticipated.

I’ve been reprogramming my mind to see this phase as a remaking.

As if everything about me, my body, my routines, my beliefs, even my environments, is being stripped away to make room for what’s next in my life.

I’m evolving while being forced to grieve and extend grace to myself at the same time.

I’m reimagining who I want to be over the next decade of my life. And that deserves intention, patience, and self-love.

If you’re in this space too, somewhere between growth and reinvention, I want you to take your time.

Don’t rush to figure it all out or package it neatly. There’s no roadmap for becoming a new version of yourself. No blueprint for who you’re supposed to be next.

You get to create your own vision, in your own way, at your own pace.

And that alone is something special.

2025