Apparently, This Is 50

I turn 50 in January.

And for some reason, I always thought turning 50 would come with some kind of revelation.

You know… wisdom, clarity, maybe the sudden desire to organize my linen closet. Or a fabulous trip to Europe. A cruise. Something.

I thought 50 would feel like this huge milestone where suddenly everything would make sense. Like I would wake up one morning knowing exactly who I am, what I want, what matters, and what absolutely does not.

Apparently, that’s not how this works.

I’m not even 50 yet, and I’m already learning that there is no big revelation waiting for me. I still walk into rooms and forget why I’m there. Sometimes the word I’m looking for simply disappears in the middle of a sentence — a word I know I know — and my brain apparently decides we’ll get back to it later. Some days, I genuinely do not have the energy to deal with people.

And somewhere along the way, I realized that I’ve been slowly deconstructing and rebuilding myself at the same time.

And I mean that in almost every sense of the word.

The shoes I used to wear? Some of them are no longer happening. They’re just sitting there in the closet, looking pretty and minding their own business. The clothes that used to work for me don’t necessarily work anymore. I’ve had to rethink my skincare, the way I do my makeup, what feels good on my body, how I spend my time, and even how I socialize.

Things that once felt completely normal suddenly require reconsideration.

It’s strange because I’m still me, but I’m also becoming another version of myself. And I don’t completely know her yet. I’m building her little by little, figuring out what stays, what goes, what still fits, and what I’ve simply outgrown.

Outgrown.

I love that word for this stage of life. Because I’m realizing that you don’t just outgrow things in your closet. You outgrow things in your life.

Maybe that’s what nobody tells you about approaching 50. There isn’t necessarily a moment when everything clicks into place.

There’s no magical download of wisdom. No instruction manual arrives in the mail. You just keep navigating things as they happen.

Some days you feel like you’ve figured something out. Other days you’re standing in the middle of the kitchen wondering why you walked in there. And maybe both can be true.

I’m looking forward to turning 50. I really am.

But instead of waiting for January to magically transform me into some wiser, more put-together version of myself, I think I want to pay attention to the woman I’m becoming on the way there — and help her become the best version of herself, while figuring out who she wants to be next.

The closet. The skincare. The relationships. The travel. The home projects. The career questions. The things I’m letting go of. The things I’m rediscovering. And all those completely random moments that apparently come with this season of life.

I don’t have this figured out. That’s kind of the point. I’m figuring it out as I go.

Apparently, this is 50.