On turning 50

The bittersweet alchemy of midlife

Jun 13, 2023

I have a certain BIG birthday coming up next week. The one that starts with a 5.

Fifty feels like a rather epic and symbolic milestone. It feels like the crossing of the threshold into elderhood. Leaving behind the freshness and potentiality of youth and stepping into the maturity of the wisdom years. I’ve been feeling mostly positive about stepping through that doorway – excited even. In many ways I’m happy to leave behind the insecurity-ridden days of early adulthood, my head filled with stories of ‘not good enough’ and striving to be the person I thought the world wanted me to be. But as the big day creeps closer, I notice there’s a mixed bag of emotions present. It’s bittersweet and tinged with waves of nostalgia and grief.

I’m reminded often that only the lucky among us get to grow old, so for me the grief is not about aging per se. I welcome this new version of myself, the body changes, the silver highlights, the desire for a slower pace of life, the shifting perspectives and self-understanding that have accumulated through the decades. The grief is not about getting older, it’s more a feeling of saying goodbye to a dear friend - my younger self.

It's hard to pin down, but there’s a poignant sense of the passage of time, and lost versions of a younger me seem to haunt the periphery of my vision. The radio plays Massive Attack and tears well instantly as I’m transported to 1995, to the love, loss, hope and joy of my early 20’s self. It’s a strange cocktail of nostalgia, fondness and grief. I catch a whisper, an echo of my younger self, and in that moment I pine for her, knowing I can never again return to those lands. I feel a lot of tenderness and compassion for that young woman. The insecurities, struggles and heartbreaks. I wish she’d had the older me to sit down beside her once in a while and tell her a few things about life. She may not have been ready to listen though.

Many philosophical traditions regard 50 as something of a transition point. Jungian thinkers speak of the first half of life as being about asserting ourselves in the outer world – with a focus on external pursuits and fulfilling societal expectations. This might include things like education, career, travel, partnerships, children, home etc. The second half of life is seen as a time for very different priorities, for focusing on the internal work and self-development that help us inhabit our role as elders and ultimately prepare us to meet our mortality. It's not that we stop producing in the outside world, far from it, it can be a time of great creativity, but we move into a different role, the role of elder or wisdom-keeper, holding space for the younger generation.

There's a similar teaching in the tradition of yoga where the years from 25-50 are considered the 'householder' years, with a focus on family, community and career, while 50-75 are the ‘forest dweller’ years, a time to retreat back towards the self and spiritual practice. Of course, in the modern world it's not always quite so linear or defined, but whilst we may not become literal forest dwellers, the search for peace can sometimes lead us away from frenetic city life. I like this as a metaphor and I certainly hear my intuition beckoning me towards a quieter, simpler way of being.

Those who struggle most with mid-life, the Jungian thinking goes, are often those who are trying to cling to the values of youth rather than embracing this new phase with a different compass and road map. We see this when people try to solve their mid-life crisis by buying a bigger, flashier car or house. By all means do this if you have the disposable income, just don’t imagine that the answer to your existential dilemmas lie there. You may find yourself, 6 months down the line, sitting in your beautiful new house with all the same emotional unease and questions about meaning and purpose still rumbling away in the background - or foreground.

For many women, 50 is a doubly potent time, overlaid with the transition into menopause. This is a period often characterised as a time of struggle, but one which can also be a potent portal to transformation, when any and all unresolved life issues tend to come to the surface, often in the guise of physical symptoms. As confronting as this can be, there is also an invitation into growth and expansion if you're willing to lean into what's asking to be addressed in your life. It's a time when many arrive at a therapist's door, often for the first time, and it's a powerful time to do the self-development work, to re-set the compass for the new chapter ahead.

I believe the physical symptoms have their place and purpose. These days my body is very quick to tell me when I'm out of alignment with myself and slams me with symptoms that sometimes stop me in my tracks for a short time. But if I can treat this as a messenger rather than simply something to suppress and medicate, it always contains a kernel of wisdom. For me the message is usually quite simple - it’s often letting me know that my nervous system is overloaded. When I dial down the stress and busyness or dial up the rest and self-care (e.g. saying ‘no’ a bit more often – see previous post), the symptoms tend to resolve. Don’t get me wrong, I know medication can have its place too, but I think we also need to listen to the deeper messages of our body’s intuition.

On a physiological level, the body is redirecting resources away from the Herculean task of menstruation and reproduction and making those resources available elsewhere. Many postmenopausal women report an increased energy, freedom and self-confidence that allows them to step out into the world in bold and radical new ways they would not have dared to do in their younger years.

It's often said that the years seem to speed up around mid-life. Time marches forwards with a heightened sense of urgency towards a finish-line that’s unseeable but fast approaching. We can allow this to evoke fear and paralysis or we can utilise the discomfort of this to become more present, more focused, more vital, more alive. To bring into sharp focus our values and our life purpose. To figure out what is going to be our legacy in this world. It’s as though life is telling us to stop messing about – it’s now or never. As poet Mary Oliver famously put it:

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

My mum once told me that you grow into yourself as you get older. I think she may be right. It's probably no coincidence that I’ve launched this page and started sharing my writing more publicly the year I’m turning 50. My younger self has sometimes allowed herself to be silenced and censored by self-doubt and often opted to play safe by staying on the sidelines. In my 50th year I’m standing more centred in myself, clearer in my own voice and less concerned with what other people think. The fears still show up but there’s another voice coming through louder and clearer these days. I’m the same me, yet different.

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On turning 50

The bittersweet alchemy of midlife

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