There's a particular kind of unsteadiness that comes with looking in the mirror and thinking, "Who is this person?"
I don't mean the dismay of a new wrinkle or a thickening waist. I'm talking about that uncanny feeling when we realize the woman staring back doesn't match who we thought we were.
Maybe it hits you after finalizing your late-life divorce. Or when you're standing in your grown child's empty bedroom. When retirement looms or you're caring for your elderly parents.
One How She Thrives reader wrote me: "I feel like I don't know who I am anymore. Everything that defined me has either ended or changed completely. It's kind of terrifying."
If you've felt this way, let me remind you of something important: You're not broken. You're just standing at yet another threshold.
The Roles We've Worn Like Clothing
For most of our lives, we've known ourselves through the roles we play. Daughter. Wife. Mother. Professional. Caregiver. These weren't just things we did—they became who we were. And, when you think about it, they all had their threshold moments.
But now? Some of those roles don't fit anymore. We've outgrown them, or they've been taken from us, or we've simply completed them.
And suddenly, we're left with a question we haven't had to answer in decades: Who am I when I'm not being all these things for all these people?
Why This Feels Like Falling Apart
Our culture doesn't prepare us for this moment. We're taught that women should shrink as we age, become less visible, step aside. The message is clear: your contributions are behind you.
But something inside us rebels. There's a voice—quiet, barely a whisper—that says, "Not yet. There's more."
That voice is our soul refusing to be defined by roles that no longer serve us.
What if we're not falling apart? What if we're falling together in a completely new way?
People may call what happens at midlife [or beyond] "a crisis," but it's not. It's an unraveling—a time when you feel a desperate pull to live the life you want to live, not the one you're "supposed" to live [emphasis added].
— Brené Brown —
The Threshold Moment
Think of this like being a sailor who's left one shore but hasn't yet reached the next. We're navigating open water, and the old landmarks that once guided us have disappeared. It's disorienting. But here's what I've learned: Sometimes we need to lose sight of the shore to remember we know how to sail.
I recall my own threshold moment at forty-six. My life looked great on the outside, but inside I felt miserable. My twenty-five-year corporate career had become exhausting and meaningless. I didn't want to be there anymore and had no clue what to do next. It felt like my life was coming apart at the seams.
The not-knowing was scary. But eventually, that disorientation became the most valuable experience of my life. It forced me to ask deeper questions: "Who am I beneath these roles? What really matters to me? What makes me feel fully alive?"
It turns out I was a creative and unconventional woman living a thoroughly conventional life. What a wild awakening that was.
What This Moment Is Really Asking
This moment isn't asking you to find the old you or become someone new. It's asking you to remember who you've always been underneath all those roles.
This is the difference between living from our roles and living from our souls. Roles are external—what we do for others, the masks we wear. Our soul is our essence, our core values, our deepest truths.
The woman you don't recognize might be the woman you've always been, finally getting a chance to be seen and heard.
The Sacred Work of Not Knowing
The not-knowing isn't a problem to be solved. It's a space to be inhabited.
We don't have to figure out our whole next chapter right now. What we need is the courage to sit with the questions. To get curious about this woman in the mirror, rather than demanding she immediately have all the answers.
This is counter to everything our culture teaches us. But maybe the most radical thing we can do is admit: "I don't know who I am anymore. And I'm willing to find out."
Think of this as learning to navigate by the stars instead of the shoreline. When we can't see land, we look up. We trust that even when we can't see the next harbor, we're still moving forward.
Where to Begin
If you're in this threshold space, here are some gentle invitations:
Stop trying to "fix" it. The discomfort is your soul stretching.
Get still more often. This is how we hear the calm, clear voice that knows who we really are.
Ask different questions. "What makes me feel most alive?" "Who am I when no one's watching?"
Notice what lights you up for no good reason. These are beacons guiding you home to yourself.
The Woman Waiting to Be Known
The woman in the mirror who you don't quite recognize? She's not a stranger. She's the part of you that's been waiting for this exact moment—when the roles finally quiet down enough for her to speak.
She remembers what mattered before you learned to perform. She carries your deepest values, your most authentic desires, your untamed aliveness.
This threshold moment might be the greatest gift of this stage of life. It's your invitation to stop living someone else's story and start living your own.
You don't need to know who you are yet. You only need to be willing to find out.
And trust me on this: The woman waiting to be recognized is worth every uncharted mile of the journey.
Hand-Picked Just for You
ADVICE AND INSPIRATION FOR FEELING wildly ALIVE
On Audacious Women Over 50
In December 2024, Susan Dabbar launched a one-woman magazine from scratch because she couldn't find what she was looking for—a publication that treated women over 50 as relevant, loud, and very much still here.
Twelve months later, PROVOKEDmagazine has 20,000+ subscribers, 185 published stories, and a team of 20+ women writers aged 45-85. No VC funding. No legacy media backing. Just women refusing to disappear, building the platform we deserved all along.
I'm proud to be one of those contributing writers. This anniversary reflection isn't just about one magazine's success—it's proof of concept. When we center women's voices, wisdom, and actual lives, people show up. They read. They engage. They stay.
On Being Happier
The Atlantic columnist Arthur Brooks puts language to something I suspect you're already living but might not have fully named. It's about the choices we make—about our time, our energy, who gets access to us—that work so differently than they did when we were younger.
You'll likely see yourself here, and maybe feel that quiet validation of recognizing your own wisdom reflected back. Read it for that moment of recognition, and because Brooks writes with the kind of clarity that makes you want to share it with someone who needs to hear it.
What I Wish I’d Known When I Was Younger | The Atlantic (Gift Article)
On Faces and Freedom
What if the most radical thing we could do is simply let our faces tell the truth about our lives? Marisa Meltzer's essay in the Times wrestles with something many of us feel but rarely say out loud: the exhausting pressure to either fade into the background or pay up for a face that lies about our age.
She writes from inside the beauty industry itself, surrounded by faces that cost more than most people's cars, and asks whether any of that expensive work actually buys happiness—or just announces that you've bought expensive work.
I Shouldn't Have to Feel Bad About My Neck | NY Times (Gift Article)
On Boosting Your Brain Health
The headline alone on this article stopped me in my tracks: a 76% reduction in dementia risk? From something you can do right in your living room?
What surprised me most wasn't just the science (which is solid), but that this particular activity combines so many elements we already know matter — movement, creativity, social connection, and joy.
This Fun Hobby May Reduce Your Dementia Risk by 76% | Washington Post (Gift Article)
Little Bits of Light
Words to open your heart and SOOTHE YOUR SOUL
Thank You for Sharing
How She Thrives!
Enjoy this issue? Please forward it to friends or share it on your favorite social media platform.
