Beginning again in midlife is not a clean, painless journey.

You see the beauty and you feel the discomfort.
Two sides revealing themselves at once and eventually, you learn how to breathe between them.

You have to step into letting go of everything you were, without having any idea who you are becoming yet.
It is scary. And yet it is also exhilarating.

The feeling of being free of caring about what others think, or expect, or how you should be. It has taught me to live unapologetically as myself and that can be uncomfortable too. You have to truly get to know this new person making her debut. Move slowly with her, observe her, question her. It is a beautiful dance of personal self creation.

Travelling and extracting myself from the web of my life two years ago was not easy. It was planned up to the point of leaving and then I have just been making it up as I go. It would have been easier to stay of course, taken an extended holiday I guess. But I knew that would not be long enough for me to really break the shackles and the safety net that held my life together. I knew I was changing and I knew this was my chance now, at fifty two, to make a huge shift. To write a new chapter totally removed from my old life and securities. To discover what it is that I want for this next stage in my life.

These past two years have been constant movement. Learning, exploring, discovering myself, doubting myself, rebuilding parts of me I had not realised needed attention, then being unsure again.

Solo travel is a high and it is highly addictive. To go where you want, when you want, how you want, it is intoxicatingly liberating. And there were moments of astounding presence where I could see my own growth so clearly.

But with the highs come the lows. Being ill in unfamiliar places. Navigating exhaustion. Being alone and still dealing with everything. Arriving in the wrong airport and racing across the Emirates with a kind Nepali driver. Caring for family as health deteriorated. Moving between countries, homes, energies, responsibilities.

Beauty and discomfort. Yin and yang. Everything in balance.

And through it all, I have learned to acknowledge a strength I always knew I had but could not quite see. These experiences, and the women I have met along the way, have shown me a truth I see again and again now in my work. Women in midlife are incredible. We are capable, resourceful, intuitive.

Travel impacts us in such profound ways, even in short doses.

This journey has pushed me in every direction. My physical health changed in ways I could not always control. New foods, disrupted routines, unfamiliar environments. I had to let go of how things should be. My emotional and mental health shifted too. It has been incredibly difficult at times but revealing and empowering. I have learned a deep compassion and empathy, how to hold boundaries and feel ok with it, and how to hold myself steady through the unknown.

And then… coming home.

Except it does not feel like home in the way that it is physically my home with all my things from my old life. It is Australia, yes, but a completely unfamiliar chapter in a new state, far from the East Coast life I once knew. A total unknown.

The first few days were joy. I could not stop smiling. My heart felt so full. Being back in a country I love. The quirks, the people, the natural beauty. Relief in being back inside my culture, even if not remembering the colour of the money values completely threw me. It has also made me stop, with almost childlike clarity, and look back at what I have done and what I have achieved. I have met so many new people, seen so many places. I felt dazzled and amazed as I stood in that moment of looking back. Almost like looking at another person. Another woman.

But the simple truths are this...
I am not settled.
I am not in my own home.
I do not have my things.
And I do not have a job.

I resigned from the job I had because I finally allowed myself the freedom to grow into something new. So the real, hard truth is this.

I am starting again with a backpack, a borrowed car, a shared home, and a version of myself I am only just beginning to create. Beginning again in midlife asks you to be uncomfortable and to sit with the unknown.

But the payoff is huge. Even today, writing résumés for roles I last did in my twenties, I felt strangely detached looking back at my old titles. Roles of responsibility. That is where the changes are happening. I am able to choose my next path. I just have to wait until the right thing appears. These are stepping stones. I do not know where the path is leading. Sometimes I say to myself, you can always go back to the life you had before.

But in my heart I know I have changed. There is no roadmap but when has there ever been. What I do have is the promise I made to myself. Six months here to see if this feels like home. To listen, settle, observe, and decide the next direction.

My adjustment to this new life is layered. Each day different. Some days I feel energetic, optimistic, full of life. Some days I feel reflective and tired. This whole week has been about firsts. I am learning the rhythm here. Building new friendships. Feeling overwhelmed and grounded at the same time.

And this is something I see again and again in midlife reinvention. The emotional in between. The physical dysregulation. The need to understand your body differently as it shifts with life. Reinvention begins in the body long before identity catches up.

Painful. Raw. Uncomfortable. Necessary.

And Margaret River is exactly the place for this. It has a slow, calm, healing energy. I feel wrapped up in nature here and that is exactly what I wanted. It is the perfect environment to recalibrate. I have started meeting amazing people. Yesterday I laughed until I cried. I have watched kangaroos appear from nowhere, listened to black cockatoos overhead, stood on beaches that took my breath away.

And every small moment reaffirms that I made the right decision.

I know I can do this.
I know I am capable.

Beginning again in midlife is hard.
It is disorienting.
You do turn everything upside down.
But it is also how women begin writing their next chapter.

So many things have happened that I could never have predicted two years ago. Experiences, people, moments that shaped me in ways I will always be grateful for.

And now it is time to write a different chapter. To step fully into this woman I am growing into.
Single woman.
Empty nester.
Midlife.
Rewriting her life.
Map unknown.
Destination unknown.

I do not have it all figured out yet.
But I am here.
And I am all in.
This new chapter is going to be the most authentic and beautiful one yet.

For more stories, insight, and honest guidance for midlife women, you can join my newsletter Letters from a Midlife Butterfly.
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