50

Turning 50: A Personal Reflection

I turned 50 in December. I’ve never been weird about aging—if anything, I see the accumulation of years as a blessing and a privilege. Having lost my husband at a relatively young age, I know firsthand that growing older is a gift denied to many.

But this birthday was different.

I found myself crying on the floor of the shower, overwhelmed by my underwhelming life. Not just feeling the passing of time, but the passing of possibility. The weight of missed chances. The sting of lost connection with those I love and miss. The quiet grief of adventures not taken. The small safety of, well, living small.

I let the water wash over me as the realization hit: wisdom.

What was the suffering for? The heartbreak, the triumphs and satisfactions, the despair and the relief? The knowings and ponderings and contemplations? The quiet certainties, the failures and trials by fire? The forgiveness and sorrow and humility? The pants-shitting-fear and the soul-singing surrender?

What good was any of it, if I refuse to integrate the wisdom?

Aging isn’t just about years stacking up—it’s about what I choose to do with the ones ahead of me. And if there’s anything I’ve learned (or unlearned), it’s that I am not obligated to continue living a life that feels too tight, too predictable, too afraid of the unknown.

Maybe turning 50 isn’t a closing chapter. Maybe it’s the doorway to something bigger.

Maybe, just maybe, the best part is still ahead.