Wings to Fly: Reclaiming Your Life at Midlife

I feel a sense of awe every time I sit down to write and realize that I genuinely like the life I am living. Of course life continues to give me the opportunity to practice feeling the full spectrum of my feelings, but from who I once was, this is a very good thing. 

Nearly ten years have passed since that moment when my life would start to become something more. I could not even imagine then that my choices, both to leave my culture of upbringing and my marriage, would create the space I needed to fly out of my own cage of darkness into a space that breathed with light. 

Me when I was 5 years old.

Speaking of flying brings back memories from my childhood. I was a mere five year old playing with my cousins. One of our favorite things to do was pretending to be superheroes. We would climb onto the top of the hutches that held the baby calves and took turns jumping off, declaring which superhero we were. Given that I was the only girl at that time playing, I was always Wonder Woman. I can still remember standing on the edge of the hutch, believing that I really could fly. With eyes determined and arms stretched wide, I took a leap fully expecting to stay in the air. Instead of staying airborne, I belly flopped on the earth and ended up breaking my wrist. Even though gravity had done its job, the belief I held as a child was real enough that I tried to defy it. 

I have found that the same believing energy I possessed as a child still lives within me—the desire to defy limitations. Not gravity this time, but the invisible boundaries I had been taught were simply the reality of who I was. 

My midlife reality check gave me the space to start recognizing the negative programming in my mind. This was the first place I became intentional as I knew that to understand myself, I had to take an inventory of all the “supposed to” messages I had accumulated throughout my life. 

I was supposed to be a certain kind of woman.

I was supposed to be a certain kind of wife.

I was supposed to mother a certain way.

I was supposed to believe certain things.

I was supposed to want certain things.

I was supposed to be a “good girl”.

The difficult part was realizing how many of the “supposed to” messages I had mistaken for my own desires. This understanding provided me the space to redesign the architecture of my life. 

I began to pay attention to the voice in my head and how hard I was on myself. How was I to change my life if my own thoughts were critical of me? I started to practice new thinking. It began with one small post-it note that I still have. It says, “I approve of myself”. Over and over again, hundreds of times a day, I would repeat this affirmation to myself. It felt clunky and forced at first, but I continued to practice. I wasn't simply changing my thoughts. I was renovating a life I had spent decades constructing according to someone else's blueprint.

A few of my favorite affirmations.

What followed over the next few years—and many more post-it notes—was not one dramatic transformation. It was hundreds of tiny moments of choosing to relate to myself differently. Eventually, those small choices began changing the architecture of my life.

Outgrowing unhealthy relationships.

Speaking my truth.

Boundaries.

Healing.

Sometimes those choices were very small.

Saying no when I wanted to say no. Letting someone be disappointed in me without rushing to fix it. Speaking a truth I was afraid someone wouldn't like. Resting without feeling I had to earn it. Choosing not to abandon myself simply because someone else wanted something different from me.

As one that had spent a good part of my life asking, “Am I doing this right?” I began asking:

• “What do I actually think?”

• “What do I want?”

• “What feels true to me?”

• “What do I need?”

• “Can I trust myself here?”

These questions became the beginning of something I now think of as my inner compass.

I love the concept of a compass because it doesn't tell me which road I am supposed to take. It doesn't hand me a set of rules or tell me which direction is the “right” one. It helps me navigate and that distinction matters.

For much of my life, I was taught to look outside myself for the answers. I was given the road, the rules, and often the consequences for stepping outside of them. What I am learning now is something very different. I don't need someone else to tell me which road is right. I am learning I hold the power within to navigate my own life.

I am learning to notice what is happening within me, questioning what I have been taught, listening to what I am experiencing, discerning what feels true, and then choosing my direction.

This is what I mean when I talk about my inner compass.

It isn't another authority. It is a way of learning to hear myself.

As I look back and remember that five-year-old girl who truly believed she could defy gravity, I now understand that flying can mean many different things.

Becoming my own authority has changed my life.

Maybe flying is trusting ourselves enough to leave the ground we've always known.

Maybe it is having the courage to question what we've been told.

Maybe it is allowing ourselves to become visible.

Maybe it is choosing a life that belongs to us.

Maybe it is simply learning to listen to the voice within.

Returning hoME.

Reclaiming your life.

We don't lose our ability to fly. We forget that we have wings.

Perhaps much of becoming ourselves isn't about becoming someone new at all. Perhaps it's about remembering who was there all along. And perhaps that is where the real adventure begins. Not knowing exactly where the path will lead. Not having every answer. But trusting ourselves enough to take the next step.

To spread our wings.

To leap.

And to discover what becomes possible when we finally stop asking for permission to fly.

I love you my friends.

The Modern Day Pioneer™