My Midlife Wake-Up Call
I’m sitting at my desk, staring blankly at my computer, unable to get myself to do any work — all while imagining slamming my head against a brick wall, repeatedly.
This is what they call a midlife breakdown.
I’ve hit rock bottom.
I need help.
Something has to change.
No, everything has to change.
For over 25 years, I’d been pushing myself. Truthfully? I’ve been pushing myself my entire life. A classic overachiever — the kind who punished herself for getting a 90 instead of a 100.
Why did I get that one question wrong? I should have done better.
I lived in a cycle of refusing help, taking everything on myself, and striving for perfection in every corner of my life. I was volunteering for one more school committee, cooking well-balanced dinners for a family of five every night, cleaning the house top to bottom each week — spotless enough to eat off the floor, and building a business solo because obviously I could do it all.
I never rested. I rarely saw friends.
My version of self-care was enjoying the ten minutes my house stayed clean on Saturday afternoons — because I live with four men, aged eighteen to husband.
No wonder I wanted to bang my head against a wall.
What Midlife Burnout Really Feels Like
My breakdown wasn’t sudden; it was years in the making. I’d been burned out long before I broke — I just kept convincing myself I could push through, like I always had.
But this time was different. This time I couldn’t.
I cried for months, maybe more. My anxiety was sky-high. I was angry all the time. I couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t decide anything, and all I wanted to do was sleep, but I never felt rested.
This is what prolonged stress does to a person.
It’s like I was a participant in a science experiment that I never signed up for . . . and passed with flying colors. Of course I did. Classic overachiever.
The medical term is “mental health crisis.” But honestly? Call it whatever you want — the truth was clear:
The way I’d been doing life for 46 years wasn’t working.
And never had.
Learning to Rest and Rebuild
Fast-forward 2 years from rock bottom.
With the help of an amazing therapist, I’m learning to rest, to quiet the constant hum of anxiety, and to be kinder to myself.
None of it comes naturally. But it’s the hardest and most rewarding work I’ve ever done.
I’m learning to enjoy the small things again. The first sip of tea before anyone else wakes up. The sunlight sneaking through the curtains. The quiet minutes of my skincare routine each evening.
I’m learning to love myself better.
And honestly? I really like it.
If any of that sounds familiar — if you’ve ever enjoyed the ten minutes your house stayed clean and called it self-care — this is for you.
I’m not going to tell you I have it all figured out. Some days I still want to slam my head against that wall — I just have better skincare for when I do.
But for the first time in a long time, I actually want to be in my own life.
If you want the honest version of what rebuilding looks like — the messy, imperfect, occasionally over-moisturized version — subscribe below. I’ll be here.
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