Navigating Midlife with Grace (and a Little Chaos)

43 and rocking it! Or so I say to myself every day. When did I turn 40, let alone 43? Seriously, where did the time go? Am I going through a midlife crisis? Who am I now compared to who I thought I’d be? What have I really achieved, and what do I still want to do? Have I missed my chance for something more? Don't get me wrong, I love where I’m at in life, but I feel like I wasted my time. Is it just me, or is this what every human being goes through?

Lately, I feel disconnected from the world. I don’t know what others feel or how I should feel. It’s a strange and unsettling sensation, like I’m adrift in a sea of uncertainties.

Turning 40 as a single mom has been a journey filled with highs and lows. On one hand, I’ve gained a lot of wisdom and resilience—like a seasoned warrior who’s seen it all. On the other hand, there's this persistent, nagging feeling that I've missed out on something. The responsibilities of raising children on my own have made time fly by, and sometimes it feels like I've been so busy surviving that I've forgotten how to truly live.

I mean, seriously, do we ever truly live? Or are we just running from one crisis to the next, patting ourselves on the back for keeping the chaos to a manageable level? Is there no redo button? Not for my entire life, just a couple of months here and there. Imagine having the ability to rewind and make a few strategic changes. Maybe I wouldn’t have taken that job that sucked the soul out of me. Or perhaps I would’ve taken that spontaneous trip instead of saving for a rainy day that turned into a monsoon.

Ah, the what-ifs. What if I had said yes to that opportunity? What if I had said no to that toxic relationship? It's like playing a game of "Choose Your Own Adventure" and realizing you took a wrong turn back in Chapter 3. The responsibilities and the day-to-day grind can make you feel like you're on autopilot, and suddenly you look up and a decade has passed. It's not that I haven't made good choices—my kids are amazing, after all—but sometimes, I wonder about the paths not taken.

Survival mode is a beast. It’s like being in a never-ending episode of "Survivor," where you're constantly strategizing just to make it to the next day. Except in this version, there's no million-dollar prize, just the hope of a quiet evening with no interruptions. Every day starts with the mad dash of school drop-offs—because nothing says “good morning” like the thrill of almost being late. Then it’s off to work, where you juggle tasks with the precision of a circus performer. By the time the workday ends, it’s back to school for pick-ups, then home to tackle dinner prep. Rinse and repeat.

Take last Saturday, for example. I decided to treat myself and go out for a coffee. Just me, a good book, and some much-needed quiet time. Sounds relaxing, right? Well, think again. As soon as I sat down, my mind started its usual routine of spiraling into chaos. I couldn't enjoy my coffee because I was too busy thinking about my daughter finding a job and my son studying for his exams so he can get into the university of his choice. 

Every sip of my latte was accompanied by a mental checklist of worries: "Is my daughter okay? Did she send out those job applications? Is my son studying hard enough? Did I remember to pay the electricity bill? What if he doesn’t get into his dream university? What if she gets a job far away? What if I forgot to lock the front door?"

I glanced around the café, envying those who seemed to be genuinely enjoying their break. Meanwhile, I was stuck in a loop of parental anxiety. The book I brought to read? It stayed closed the entire time. I kept pretending to read while my mind was busy staging its own doomsday scenario.

I've become so adept at managing everyone else's crises that my own needs have been relegated to the bottom of the priority list, somewhere between “fix the leaky faucet” and “figure out what that mysterious smell in the fridge is.” Seriously, what is that smell? It’s as if I’ve been running on a hamster wheel, getting nowhere but exhausted. Sometimes, it feels like I’ve been surviving rather than living—like I’m in a marathon with no finish line in sight, just endless miles of “what’s next?”

But hey, at least I've got a great sense of humor about it. Because if I didn't laugh, I'd probably cry. And sometimes, I do both—usually while hiding in the bathroom for a five-minute break that somehow stretches to 15 because it's the only place where I can pretend to be alone. The bathroom has become my sanctuary, the one place I can lock the door and have a moment to myself, even if it means pretending to have a stomach ache just to get a break from the chaos.

In the end, it's all about survival mode. It’s about getting through each day with a smile (or at least a smirk) on your face and knowing that you’re doing your best, even when it feels like you’re falling short. And who knows? Maybe one day, we’ll look back on these moments and laugh—because if we don’t, we might just cry.

But here's the kicker—while I can joke about missed opportunities and the chaos of life, I wouldn’t change a thing. Every decision, every high, and every low has made me who I am today. The wisdom and resilience I’ve gained are invaluable, and I’m learning to embrace the journey, not just the destination. So, maybe I didn't get that do-over button, but I did get a lifetime of experiences that have shaped me into a stronger, more empathetic person.

I’ve learned that it’s okay to have moments of doubt and to feel overwhelmed. It’s okay to question if you’re doing enough or if you’re on the right path. Because in the end, those questions lead to growth and self-awareness.

I've come to realize that being a single mom, raising two incredible kids while trying to keep my own sanity intact, has taught me more about life than any textbook or self-help guide ever could. It’s taught me to find joy in the small victories, like when my son aces a test or my daughter lands an interview. It’s taught me to laugh at the absurdity of it all—like when I’m hiding in the bathroom for a moment of peace or when I realize I’ve been talking to myself in the car for the last ten minutes.

Life may not always go as planned, but that’s part of its charm. The unexpected detours and the unplanned moments are what make the journey worthwhile. They’re the stories we’ll tell and laugh about later. They’re the lessons that mold us into better versions of ourselves.

Today's message from my jar is by Dr. Wayne Dyer: "Love is the ability and willingness to allow those that you care for to be what they choose for themselves without any insistence that they satisfy you."

This message resonates deeply with me. It’s a reminder to let my children find their own paths and make their own choices, even when my inner control freak wants to take over.

Turning 40 as a single mom has its challenges, but it’s also a time of incredible growth and self-discovery. I’m learning to be kinder to myself, to acknowledge my achievements, and to keep pushing forward. Life may not be perfect, but it’s mine, and I’m determined to make the most of it.

And let's be honest, the best stories come from the chaos. Like that time I I put my phone in the fridge and the milk in my purse. Classic.

To all the moms and dads out there, if you're hiding in the pantry for a moment of peace or using your car as a personal karaoke booth just to stay sane, you're not alone. We’re all just trying to keep it together, one laugh (and occasional cry) at a time.

Thanks for being part of this wild ride. Your presence means the world to me. Single mom or dad, take care, and may your coffee be strong and your wi-fi signal stronger.

Remember, keep whispering your truth—because every day is a new adventure.