The Midlife Reframe

Tag: life

  • Anxiety Wins Again (Yay?)

    Here I am, writing at 11:56pm on a Monday evening.

    If you’re like…”Hey, this looks different”, you’d be right. My brain decided that I didn’t like how busy this blog looked, so a total revamp happened.

    It is nights like these, the ones where my brain is in overdrive, that I wish would stop.

    In the few minutes it has taken me to write this post, I have overthought every previous post I have written so far. Because…REASONS (not sure what yet, but my brain WILL come up with some, of that I can be certain).

    Thankfully, my fiance is still downstairs. He has no idea what I have been up to (yet).

    I have the heebie jeebies. I cannot sit still and I want to crawl out of my own skin.

    It is like a hamster’s horror movie, where they are on the running wheel and they keep running faster and faster…but can’t get off, and they know they will probably die here.

    My favourite piece of advise during these times is: “relax”.

    Late Breaking News: I CAN’T.

    I am stuck in flight or fight – with no way out.

    I will eventually go back downstairs, and my fiance will make me a cup of tea and we will talk about why my brain is on fire.

    It’s suffocating, and frustrating. I just wanted to come up to bed and go to sleep. I mean, I am yawning as I sit here.

    There has been too much going on…everything all at once and I can’t seem to totally shut things off.

    It is like my body feels guilty for attempting to relax.

    I have been in freeze for so long. Is this the release? And my whole psyche can’t handle it?

    Whatever it is, I need to go downstairs and unload.

    So…

    Good Morning, it is now Tuesday.

  • Huh? They Said What?

    The gut reaction to say what you really want is something you learn to subdue over time.

    After years of managing people and processes, I’ve learned that pausing before I speak is essential. When challenged, the first instinct is to defend — it’s human nature. Reacting without hesitation rarely produced the results I needed. I used to feel I had to respond immediately to questions, emails, and phone calls.

    A career coach taught me I don’t have to answer in the moment. Pausing resets your brain and lets you process what’s being asked or receive feedback constructively. You won’t always get feedback delivered kindly. That’s when the pause matters most. You may be catching someone in their worst moment; it’s not always about you, and it’s not the time for a snarky comeback.

    Living with a mental illness makes this especially hard. I tend to take things personally. Through coaching and therapy I’ve learned compassion — for myself and for others.

    Staying calm in stressful moments is difficult, especially when the work being criticized is something you’ve poured yourself into. It’s your baby, your work in progress, and you’ve worked hard on it. I now try to parse feedback and see it from the other person’s perspective. What am I missing? What could be done differently or more efficiently?

    What I’ve learned is this: don’t try to be the smartest person in the room. Collaboration and growth depends on it. I’m always learning and expanding my skills; teaching others comes next. Surrounding yourself with people who challenge you is top tier.

    So the next time you feel under attack and want to say, “What the fuck were you thinking?” — pause.

    Breathe.

    Ask questions.

    Dig a bit deeper.

    It’s not you. It’s the moment.

  • White Knuckling the 9 to 5

    img_0939

    The drive. The hustle.

    The badge of honour we place on how “busy” we are.

    I have worn that badge many times. I have burnt myself OUT multiple times, to my detriment.

    When I was younger I worked “harder”. Not always because I felt like I had to prove something, but because I was a single mother. I had another human depending on me.

    In a recent therapy session, we discussed the “white knuckling” of the “9-5”.

    I have been working on boundaries for a few years now. I have tendency to ALWAYS go above and beyond, all the while ignoring my own needs.

    Hyper focusing on the task in front of me.

    Demanding perfection and nothing less.

    Boundaries are helping me work smarter. Learning to say no when it matters is making a big difference.

    I can hear some of you now: “What about the client(s)? Do they not deserve our full attention and our best effort?”

    They absolutely do.

    Here’s the thing: If I overcommit myself, I am then attempting to “multitask”. This means I am not able to commit the time I need to each project. This means that I NOT giving the client(s) my best effort. This ensures that mistakes will be made.

    My therapist asked me this simple question when I described my need to overperform: “What if you tried softer? What would that look like for you?”

    That forced me to sit in something uncomfortable.

    My need to please overshadowed all. My worth has been tied up in how I am perceived.

    Trying softer for me means setting AND enforcing my boundaries. Those boundaries have consequences. They need to be reinforced.

    That may not sound “soft”. It IS however necessary.

    Every time I’ve pushed myself past what I can reasonably hold, the fallout has been predictable: rushed work, short patience and a version of myself that I don’t particularly like. There’s nothing noble about it. Nothing heroic.

    I’m learning to stop before I hit that point – not because I am “fragile” or I cannot “handle it”, but because I want to be present, thoughtful, and human in the places that matter.

    This means a win for everyone: my colleagues, clients, and family.

    For me, the days of working “harder” are shifting.

    I am honouring my actual capacity.

    It’s not glamourous, but it’s honest.

    I have “white-knuckled” my way through more workdays than I can count, believing that “grit” was the same thing as purpose.

    It never was, and that era is over.

    Midlife has given me the nerve to loosen my grip and walk toward something that feels like mine – not something I have survive.