I had my midlife crisis a little earlier than most.
Such an overachiever.
I was 38 when my father-in-law died unexpectedly at 59. Up until that point, my life looked pretty good from the outside. I had checked most of the boxes: marriage, kids, business ownership, a house, a busy calendar, and plenty of responsibilities. I was doing all the things successful adults are supposed to do.
And then something shifted.
Not dramatically. There was no red sports car, no spontaneous tattoo, no announcement that I was moving to Costa Rica to find myself. The unraveling happened quietly. It started with questions I couldn’t seem to stop asking.
How much time do we actually get?
Am I spending mine well?
If life is shorter than I think it is, what do I want to do differently?
At first, I thought something was wrong with me. Looking back, I think I was simply waking up.
That’s the thing nobody tells you about what we call a midlife crisis. Most of them don’t look like crises at all. Most of them look like awareness.
For years we’re busy building. Building careers, families, routines, businesses, homes, and identities. We spend so much time focused on what needs to happen next that we rarely stop to ask whether the life we’re building still reflects who we are becoming.
Then one day something happens. Sometimes it’s a death. Sometimes it’s an empty nest. Sometimes it’s a divorce, a career change, an illness, a betrayal, or a birthday with a number that suddenly feels significant. And sometimes nothing happens at all. We simply wake up one morning and realize we’re asking different questions than we used to.
The popular version of a midlife crisis is easy to joke about. It’s the sports car. The bangs. The impulse purchase. The dramatic life pivot.
The real version is much harder to identify because it often arrives disguised as restlessness.
Your life isn’t bad.
In fact, it might be objectively good. That’s what makes it so damn confusing.
You can love your family, appreciate your career, feel grateful for everything you’ve built, and still find yourself wondering whether there’s another way to live. Not necessarily a bigger life. Not necessarily a better life. Just one that feels a little more aligned with who you are now.
For some people, that looks like taking up pickleball.
For others, it looks like searching Zillow at 11 p.m. for a homestead on acreage that comes with free-range chickens, a sourdough starter, and enough space to disappear from society for a while.
Hypothetically.
The point is that the restlessness isn’t always about wanting more; sometimes it’s about wanting different.
Different priorities.
Different rhythms.
Different definitions of success.
And that’s where things get interesting.
That’s why this season can feel so disorienting. Somewhere along the way we start realizing that achievement and fulfillment aren’t always the same thing. We can accomplish everything we set out to accomplish, many of us do, and still feel a tug toward something we can’t quite name.
For me, that realization became even clearer after I quit drinking.
Sobriety has a funny way of removing distractions.
Once I stopped numbing myself, I could no longer avoid questions I’d been outrunning for years. Some of those questions eventually led me to values work, which turned out to be one of the most useful exercises I’ve ever done.
A few years ago, I completed an exercise to identify my core values. Autonomy. Connection. Creativity. Comfort. Environment. Vitality. Wealth.
At first, the list felt almost too simple and not the values list I was used to seeing. But the more I looked at it, the more I realized that nearly every major decision I’d made could be traced back to one of those values. The problem wasn’t that I didn’t know what I wanted. The problem was that I kept focusing on the vehicle instead of the value.
- I thought I wanted a different business. What I actually wanted was more creativity.
- I thought I wanted a bigger house. What I actually wanted was an environment that felt peaceful, restorative, and inspiring.
- I thought I wanted more success. What I really wanted was freedom, connection, and enough breathing room to enjoy the life I was working so hard to create.
Once I understood the value underneath the desire, the decisions became easier. Not easy. Easier.
Because suddenly I wasn’t trying to reinvent myself every few years. I was simply trying to honor what mattered most.
What Is a Midlife Crisis, Really?
Popular culture loves the stereotype.
The red sports car.
The impulsive haircut.
The questionable tattoo.
The sudden decision to move to Costa Rica and become a yoga instructor.
And while those things certainly happen, most midlife crises don’t look anything like that.
Most of them happen quietly.
They happen when you’re folding laundry, driving to work, sitting at a soccer game, lying awake at 2 a.m.
They happen when a thought slips into your head that you can’t quite shake:
Is this it?
Not because your life is bad, because it’s probably not.
Sometimes it’s because your life is perfectly fine and you’re still feeling itchy.
Which can be even more confusing.
Why Midlife Makes Us Question Everything
There are a few reasons this season of life tends to shake us awake.
Life Starts Changing
For many of us, middle age arrives alongside a whole collection of transitions.
Children grow up.
Parents get older and maybe die.
Careers evolve.
Relationships shift.
Bodies change.
Dreams we once had either happened or didn’t.
Suddenly we find ourselves standing in the middle of a life we’ve spent decades building and wondering:
Do I still want the same things?
That’s not failure. That’s awareness.
We Become Aware of Time
The older I get, the more I realize that midlife isn’t really about aging.
It’s about awareness.
At some point, we stop living as though we have unlimited time.
We begin noticing the passing of seasons.
The aging of our parents.
The loss of people we love.
The reality that time is finite.
For me, the death of my father-in-law was one of the first moments that cracked that illusion wide open.
Later, losing my mom would deepen it even further.
When mortality enters the conversation, the questions tend to get bigger.
- Who am I?
- Why am I here?
- What matters most?
- Am I spending my time in ways that actually reflect my values?
We Start Looking for Ourselves
One of the biggest surprises of midlife is realizing how many decisions we’ve made on autopilot.
Not because we were doing anything wrong.
Because we were busy building careers, raising kids, paying bills, taking care of everyone else.
Then one day we come up for air and realize we’ve spent years asking:
“What do I need to do?”
without asking:
“What do I actually want?”
That’s when the identity questions begin.
And honestly, I think that’s where the real work starts.
How to Navigate a Midlife Awakening
If you’re in the middle of one of these seasons right now, here’s what I’d encourage you to remember:
Get Curious
Instead of judging your feelings, explore them.
What keeps tugging at you?
What feels exciting?
What feels heavy?
What feels true?
Talk About It
A trusted friend.
A coach.
A therapist.
A spouse.
A journal.
You don’t have to sort through these questions alone.
Stop Assuming Something Is Wrong
This is the one I wish someone had told me.
Questioning your life does not automatically mean your life is broken.
Sometimes it means you’re growing.
Sometimes it means you’re evolving.
Sometimes it means the version of you that got here isn’t the same version of you that’s meant for what’s next.
And that’s okay.
Maybe You’re Not Having a Midlife Crisis
Maybe you’re simply waking up.
Maybe you’re finally paying attention.
Maybe you’re ready to give yourself permission to ask bigger questions.
The kind of questions that lead to a more honest life.
A more intentional life.
A more aligned life.
And while that process can be uncomfortable, confusing, and occasionally terrifying, it can also be one of the most rewarding seasons you’ll ever experience.
Speaking from experience, sometimes the unraveling is actually the beginning.
Not the end.
