Turning 45 Years Old: My Secrets To A Happy Midlife

Feb 13, 2025

A happy birthday note and a little love letter to myself — and you — as I turn 45.

Turning 45 Years Old

Reflections on what's working for me and why as a midlife mom

You know how some mornings you’ll hug your child and it seems they’ve grown a whole head taller?

Something similar happened to me this past New Years, when friends I used to see several times a week back when we lived in San Francisco came to Bend to visit. My friend noted how I seemed different.

Sara and I made friends on a Castro street corner when our babies were 5 months and 3 months old. In the span of two blocks I learned she was about to go back to work, her baby never took a bottle, and her phone number. We went from strangers to mom friends in the span of those two blocks and became best friends over the next few years.

Our daughters became best friends, then our sons, and our husbands are friends, too. We hit the raising-young-kids jackpot, the way we all lined up and liked each other.

Our kids used to go to the same preschool, so I’d see the husband at morning drop-off and the wife at afternoon pick-up. We spent time together on the weekends cooking pot roast and homemade pizza and going hiking in the redwoods. Come Covid Times, we podded up together, seeing each other even more and anyone else far less. This is to say, we know each other well.

During this New Years visit (a month ago as of the time I’m writing this, exactly a month before my 45th birthday), the husband noted how low-stress I seemed. That I seemed to be thriving here in Bend. I appreciated that reflection. I had definitely been feeling good in my life, and it was helpful to have it pointed out to me that it showed.

It got me wondering why it is, now at 45, that I feel so at ease. (Even though I don’t yet identify with that half-way-to-90 number.)

The ages of my kids, the pace of my life, all the nature and exercise I get — those are definitely important factors.

To sum it up: I feel at home in my life, in my family, in my relationships, in my identity, and in my body. This is a big deal for me. I’ve done a ton of personal development work, in earnest since the era after my second child was born and I needed to pull myself up and out of the emotional and psychological mess I had succumbed to.

But the real breakthrough has come in the form of self-acceptance and self-love.

Whatever it is that’s “working” for me will not be what “works” for you. You’re too unique with your temperament and values and circumstances and upbringing and family makeup and situation and so on. But I’m gonna share what’s working out for me anyway, in case by seeing my story you can reflect on the one you’re living.

Is it still privilege if I don't take it for granted?

I am so privileged. I have amazing good fortune in all departments of my life. (Did that make you hate me a little? Did that make you want to stop reading and get on with your day?)

I no longer feel self-conscious or guilty about my good fortune. What good would that do me or anyone else? Instead I’ll be grateful for it and enjoy it and try my best to spread it around.

I’m grateful for our health, even while those close to me are dealing with serious diagnoses. I’m thankful I have capacity to be there for them.

We have financial security, housing security, and food security. I feel safe in our home and community. I wish that were true for more people.

I have the rare privilege of getting to set my own hours. I’m able to accomplish my work and get in exercise during the hours my kids are at school. I’m able to be present and available for my kids when they’re out of school.

I feel the privilege of working in my purpose — to help moms in finding a way through motherhood that is aligned to their temperament and values, and therefore easier and more fulfilling.

Kids celebrating their moms 45th birthday

Know yourself > accept yourself > love yourself

I am comfortable with all the parts of me, even the parts that can be tricky.

For example, on days when an “ADHD storm” passes through, I’m not so hard on myself. I don’t try to force things that just aren’t happening.

More about ADHD — 2024 (last year) was a huge learning year in this department. After being diagnosed in December 2023 at the age of 43, I’ve been learning whatever I can through books and self-reflection. I’ve learned that I thrive with structure, which is hard to come by as a work-from-home solo entrepreneur and mom. So I’ve learned ways to build structure into my days and weeks. I no longer sit at my desk with no idea what to do or what to do first. I let my structure guide me, and it’s been a really good thing.

And the great thing about MY approach to structure, is it isn’t rigid like concrete that breaks when strained. It’s more like bamboo that sways and accommodates.

I’ve found a gym class and schedule that works for me. I love seeing the familiar faces. I love feeling strong via full body resistance exercises and seeing progress. I love that going straight from “my gym” to “my coffeeshop” cues my productivity. These are the days I get the best work done.

I also thrive with external feedback, bouncing ideas around, and operating in the context of other people. So in addition to the writing and course creation that I love, I’ve also brought more of my work offline and into real life with other people. I’ve been doing a ton of networking locally as well as in-person workshops. Even though it’s vulnerable to put myself out there like that, I’ve never regretted mustering the courage to do so.

If ADHD comes up in conversation, other people’s response to my diagnosis has no effect on me. I’ve been met with scoffing that “everyone has ADHD now” and disbelief that “someone like me” (aka someone who seems to have her shit together) could have it. I’ve also been met with empathy or a spark of recognition and curiosity. I let them have their thoughts. I pursued an ADHD assessment for my own self-knowledge, and that unlocked acceptance, which has unlocked greater self-love.

Did I need a diagnosis for that? Well, it turns out I did.

I feel secure in my identity — and by that I simply mean how I see myself. How others see me is far less within my control than I used to believe.

A mom and a daughter doing work together

Relationships: be yourself, love yourself; let them be themselves, love them

“Oh I’m a lucky man to count on both hands the ones I love. Some folks just have one, and others they got none.” —Pearl Jam

Marriage: Seeing each other might be the secret to our happy marriage

I feel secure in my marriage, even while some people I care about are doing hard work in this department. Bearing witness serves to remind me to tend to our relationship, nurture it by doing things we enjoy together, actually be present with each other, actually engage with each other and explore our thoughts and desires for what we want our lives to look like.

I’m so lucky to be married to a man who sees me and supports me. He stays curious about who I am and what I think and what I like, rather than thinking he has me solved. And I give him the same courtesy. This quiet man often surprises me with his kind views on people, completely guileless and lacking in judgment, but rather insightful observations that give others the benefit of the doubt. I love this about him and learn from him every time it shows up.

We solve things together, we go through things together, and we allow space for individuality, too.

For those keeping track, my husband and I ended 2024 with another tie in the yearlong Scrabble tournament.

Family: The surprising relief of not needing to be everything to everyone

I’m aware of the great good fortune that all the members of our family LIKE each other. We’re compatible. That doesn’t always happen. In this way, we have it easy. I feel lucky for this often.

I realize that the ages of our children (turning 8 and 10) is a great match for me. When they were little I was overstimulated and anxious. Now that they’re more independent and get more sleep and aren’t all over me all the time, my nervous system isn’t overreacting to daily existence. Thank goodness.

We have so much fun together, whether it’s playing games on the living room floor, or taking trips, or reading books together or side by side, or baking cookies, or going to museums — at this point, we’re doing life together, and it is SO MUCH FUN. This age is PERFECT for me.

Another thing that’s going well in the family department is my expectations for my children’s behavior being pretty well aligned with their capability. Most of the time.

A kid being really happy playing board games with his mom

Family of Origin: It’s about time, and acceptance

Perhaps my only regret in life right now is that I live so far away from my parents. I’ve heard it said that instead of wondering how much time we have left with the generations above us, wonder how many times you’ll have together. Because time is too big and vague and unknowable, but times you can guess at and count. How many Christmases and summers and spontaneous visits. If I see my parents at least twice a year, and up to four times….

I don’t like doing this math exercise. But maybe I can use it to encourage my parents to come out to Bend to spend significant chunks of time with us. That would fill my heart. Picturing my dad picking the kids up from school to take them for ice cream. Picturing my mom setting up art projects for them. Getting to go on walks in our beautiful neighborhood. Big family dinners. I want this.

And you know something I don’t give anymore of my energy to — my dad’s political views. I will not let that get in the way of enjoying time with him. When I was little and got into trouble, my parents would say to me: We always love you, even when we don’t love your behavior. I can apply that mindset to people I love that I don’t agree with.

Middle age friendships: releasing what isn’t working, leaning into what is

I feel secure in my friendships — this is new, and it is heaven.

Friends who show up for each other with popsicles and ginger ale when the whole household has the puking sickness. Friends who get together for hiking and cross-country skiing and girls game night and crafting and book group and couples kayaking and family movie nights. Friends who pop over for a cup of tea and make me the best lattes.

Friends who let each other be ourselves. Friends who dive deep together immediately, because the surface is where we might go with other people, but not us.

I’m learning to let people not like me. This is … the hardest thing sometimes.

I’m learning to let people misunderstand me. This is even harder.

But what more can I do than act from goodwill and trust that others believe that I do?

A daughter who gave her mom a happy 45th birthday card

Aging is a thing that happens to the best of us

I have a funny relationship with my skin. Redness and wrinkles and facial hairs that weren’t there yesterday greet me in the mirror. I’m teaching myself to treat the redness and embrace the wrinkles. I’m 45 after all; this skin has seen some sunshine and smiles. But let’s be honest, I’m not so evolved that I’ll be comfortable sporting a mustache thank you very much.

And my tummy. I’ve noticed that every couple of years I’m going up a size in jeans, even though I feel fit and strong. Do I love this? No, I do not. Is it actually a problem? Also no. Is it always easy to remember that? No again.

When during a physical this past year my primary care nurse said “a little belly fat can have a protective effect,” I took her word as the gospel I wanted to hear and moved on, reminding myself to prioritize how I feel and what I can do over how I look (or what size my jeans are).

Sleep has always been my friend. I wake up stupid early (4:30 a.m.) and fall asleep stupid early according to some people (I try to make it to 9:30!). But I feel rested! My husband says I live permanently on East Coast time. Pretty much.

Lately however I wake up in the middle of the night with buckets of sweat on my chest. Hot flashes, anyone? Perimenopause, I guess. Not my favorite, but usually I can fall back asleep. If this becomes more disruptive I’ll address it.

I have an easy relationship with food. I’m not tempted by intermittent fasting, glucose monitoring, macro counting, supplements, or protein powders. My grandmother lived well, well into her 90s, by eating food she cooked. That’s my model.

Protein, however much. Gluten, yes. Meat, some. Vegetarian, sometimes. It’s so nice when we can let things be easy.

My secret to a happy midlife: less fixing, more loving

I’m not doing so much “personal development” these days. Instead I’m practicing curiosity and acceptance and love. That’s enough. I’m enough.

I think it comes down to this: I’m living in alignment with my temperament and values. I’m getting my needs met. I appreciate all my good fortune. I feel fulfilled.

And here’s what I know—when I stop trying to fix myself, I have more energy to be myself. And that’s where the joy is. That’s the good stuff.

I hope you enjoyed this take on my life lessons at 45 years of life.