Stage 3: Seeking Empowerment Through Change
Read: The Six Stages of Midlife Discovery
One of the most unexpected side effects of quitting drinking was discovering that I could just leave.
A party. A gathering. An event I had absolutely no desire to attend in the first place.
I could just… go home.
No elaborate excuse. No imaginary headache. No pretending I had somewhere else to be. No hanging around for another two hours because someone might think I was rude.
I didn’t want to be there anymore.
So I left.
And wouldn’t you know it, the world kept spinning.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but quitting drinking was also teaching me how to stop being a people pleaser. What started with leaving parties early eventually became a much bigger lesson in boundaries, permission, and learning to trust myself.
For most of my adult life, I’d been a Yes Girl. Yes to the invitation. Yes to the favor. Yes to the project. Yes to whatever someone else needed, even when every cell in my body was screaming absolutely fucking not.
I’d bend. I’d accommodate. I’d rearrange my schedule. I’d figure it out.
Because apparently being a good person meant being available, agreeable, and endlessly flexible.
And then I quit drinking.
At first, the changes were pretty specific. I didn’t want to spend an entire evening at a party watching other people get progressively louder and less interesting. So I gave myself permission to leave.
But that one little permission slip turned out to be a gateway drug.
Suddenly, I started wondering what else I was allowed to say no to.
Turns out, quite a lot.
I didn’t have to attend every gathering. I didn’t have to accept every opportunity. I didn’t have to explain why I wasn’t interested in doing something.
I don’t want to was a perfectly acceptable reason.
And perhaps the most revolutionary discovery of all?
No is a complete sentence.
Not “No, because…” or “No, but maybe next time…” or “I’m so sorry, I wish I could, but…”
Just no.
A tiny word with an absolutely ridiculous amount of power.
I’d already started questioning the guilt I felt whenever I wasn’t being productive. Learning to say no turned out to be the next lesson.
The Great Permission Slip Signing of Midlife
Once I started, it was like a rush of permission slips getting signed.
Permission to change my mind. Permission to disappoint someone. Permission to stop doing things simply because I’d always done them.
Permission to hire someone to do the things I didn’t enjoy, wasn’t particularly good at, or simply didn’t want to spend my time doing.
Enter my laundry fairy.
Yes, I have a laundry fairy.
And before anyone gets too excited, she’s an actual person I pay to do laundry. Not a magical woodland creature who folds fitted sheets while I drink coffee. Although if that’s available, please send me the number.
For years, I would have considered paying someone to do my laundry an indulgence. Something I should be perfectly capable of handling myself. After all, I had two functioning arms, a washing machine, and approximately 47 other things I was already doing.
But here’s what finally occurred to me.
Being capable of doing something doesn’t mean I have to be the person doing it.
I could spend my time doing laundry. Or, when I had the resources, I could pay someone who was happy to do it and use that time for something else.
Neither decision made me a better or worse person.
It was just a decision.
And the more decisions I made based on what I actually wanted, rather than what I thought I was supposed to want, the more I started recognizing myself again. Eventually, I started thinking about these decisions in terms of time, energy, money, and attention. Paying someone to do my laundry wasn’t just an expense. It was a decision about how I wanted to spend my life.
It’s funny how rediscovering who you are in midlife sometimes starts with figuring out who you’re no longer willing to be.
Turns Out, Nobody Was Keeping Score
Here’s something I didn’t expect.
I thought people would care a whole lot more about my newfound ability to say no than they actually did.
I’d spent years anticipating disappointment, hurt feelings, awkward conversations, and the possibility that someone might think I was selfish. I’d rehearsed explanations for decisions nobody had even questioned yet.
And then I started saying no.
And mostly? People were fine.
I’m sure I disappointed some people along the way. Probably my husband more than anyone. But looking back, I think it was less about hurting his feelings and more about disrupting a habit we’d both gotten comfortable with.
When one person has always been the one to bend, it takes a little getting used to when they stop bending.
But something else happened that I hadn’t anticipated.
The more comfortable I became saying no, the more willing I became to ask other people to say yes.
And when they said no?
I wasn’t disappointed.
I didn’t need a detailed explanation. I didn’t assume they didn’t care about me. I didn’t take it personally or start mentally reviewing every interaction we’d ever had.
They didn’t want to.
And that was enough.
Which made me wonder how many times I’d said yes to something I didn’t want to do because I’d assumed someone else couldn’t handle hearing no.
I’d been giving other people’s possible disappointment an awful lot of authority over my decisions.
And as it turned out, I didn’t need to.
Giving myself permission to say no also meant giving everyone else permission to do the same.
There was something incredibly freeing about realizing that an invitation wasn’t an obligation, a request wasn’t a demand, and a no wasn’t necessarily a rejection.
Sometimes it was just an answer.
Imagine that.
My Yes Is Now a Fuck Yes
Something else happened when I stopped saying yes to everything.
My yes started meaning something.
Over the years, I’ve gotten pretty good at knowing almost immediately whether something is going to be a good fit or whether I’m going to spend the next three weeks dreading it every time I look at my calendar.
You know the feeling.
You agree to something because it sounds like a good idea at the time, or because someone asked nicely, or because you haven’t yet figured out how to say no without providing a three-paragraph explanation.
And then there it is. Sitting on your calendar like a tiny little threat.
You think about it in the shower. You think about it while you’re driving. You spend the entire day of the event mentally negotiating with yourself about whether you really have to go.
All for something you didn’t particularly want to do in the first place.
I’ve learned to recognize that feeling much earlier.
These days, I try to say no before something ever lands on my calendar. Occasionally, I still get it wrong and have to change my mind. Turns out, that’s allowed, too.. I try to be considerate about how my decisions affect other people, but I no longer believe that a commitment to being agreeable is more important than being honest about what I actually want.
And the beautiful thing is that when I say yes now, I mean it.
I’m excited. I’m interested. I want to be there.
My yes is a fuck yes.
Not because every opportunity has to be life-changing or every gathering has to be the most incredible experience of my existence. Sometimes a fuck yes is simply having coffee with someone I love.
But I’m choosing it.
And I think that’s what empowerment in midlife has looked like for me. Not some dramatic reinvention or a sudden transformation into a woman who doesn’t give a shit about anyone else’s feelings.
It’s been a thousand little permission slips.
Permission to leave the party.
Permission to say no without explaining myself.
Permission to hire a laundry fairy.
Permission to ask for what I want and let someone else decide whether they want to say yes.
Permission to change my mind.
And permission to trust myself when something doesn’t feel right.
Quitting drinking may have been the first permission slip I signed, but it certainly wasn’t the last.
And somewhere along the way, I stopped waiting for someone else to hand me the pen.
A Little Permission Slip for Your Monday
If you’re learning to say no, changing your mind about what success looks like, or figuring out who you want to be in this next chapter, you’re my kind of person.
I write about midlife, multipassionate living, and building a life that actually feels good to live in Love Monday, my weekly newsletter.
Come join me. No permission slip required.
