⏱️ 5 minute read

Landing, Listening, and Learning to Live Differently

I have been back in Australia for almost six weeks now. That time has passed incredibly quickly and yet, somehow, not at all. It has been a mix of excitement alongside tiredness and uncertainty. Coming back into your home country after a long time away can be a shock to the system, even when you know it’s the right decision.

I am holding very few expectations. I have learned, often the hard way, that expectations can lead to disappointment. I am in a phase of realignment and resettlement. Uncomfortable, yes, but I am not in a crisis moment or lost. What I am in is an ongoing midlife chapter where emotional, physical, and mental shifts continue to unfold.

I am able to observe more than react now.
That is a new skill I have been developing, and one that has become much easier over the past two years as I have slowed down.

Nothing feels wrong. What I know is that I am in a process of recalibrating.

Midlife is often spoken about as if it has a clear beginning and end, often reduced to peri or post menopause. As if it is something that happens to us and then is finished. That hasn’t been my experience. For me, midlife, and with it menopause, has been an ongoing process of internal and external change and adjustment. It doesn’t arrive suddenly or disappear just as quickly either.

I don’t believe in the idea of a midlife crisis. I think it is an unhealthy narrative that gets applied to an incredibly important phase in a woman’s life. The language of “crisis” feeds into the idea that women are dramatic or somehow in a state of decline as we age. What I see instead is a deep internal shift that we feel emotionally, mentally, and physically.

The old phrase “she’s going through the change” actually has some merit, even though it has often been used negatively. What it misses completely is the truth that this time of change in our lives can be powerful and empowering, if we choose to reframe it that way.

And I believe we should.

This is not a chapter of fading away. We are not becoming invisible or irrelevant. If anything, this is one of the most important periods of our lives. Many women have spent decades carrying responsibility for others, managing homes, careers, relationships, and holding emotional space for those around them.

Midlife is reorientation.

Physically, I can feel that realignment very clearly right now. I became unfit while travelling, not because I wasn’t moving, but because routine disappeared. Whilst I chose to leave my life of predictability, I also know that routine can create stability. Boundaries around time and movement help keep things in place. When you are constantly moving from place to place, or when emotional or mental shifts are happening, routine can be harder to hold.

Over the past two years, I realised that I need some structure to keep myself fit and healthy, particularly around exercise and diet. Coming back without a fixed routine has been challenging, and it has reminded me how supportive structure can be. At the same time, living outside of routine has changed my relationship with time altogether. I no longer want to live in a way where a job, or relationships, consume so much of me that there is very little left for myself.

Settling into a new place takes more energy than I expected. Learning where things are. Finding my new daily routine. Discovering where I like to walk, where I feel calm, where I want to have my coffee and a swim, yes, I know I am blessed for this. I feel incredibly fortunate to have found new friendships already and to be welcomed into this community. There has been laughter, a real sense of ease, and connection, and I am deeply grateful for that. I have also reconnected with a couple of old friends here, and that has been the best gift. I haven’t had a community around me for the past two years, and that feels incredibly precious now.

Alongside this has been the discomfort of not knowing what work will look like. Not having an income. Sitting in uncertainty. I had dismissed the idea of returning to my old profession, yet I now find myself intrigued by the possibility of returning to teaching, but in a very different way. That curiosity has surprised me.

Not knowing what comes next is emotionally draining. I have had to remind myself again and again that life reveals itself slowly. I can’t rush it. I can’t force clarity for the path ahead in an afternoon’s plan. What I can do is notice when I start spiralling mentally or emotionally and guide myself back to the present moment.

What has surprised me most is the exhaustion. An overwhelming tiredness I hadn’t expected. Resettling has taken more out of me than travelling ever did. Travel has momentum. You move, you adapt, and you know the rules of the experience. Returning, however, asks the body to process and integrate.

Emotionally, one of the biggest challenges has been being back in Australia without my son. Realising that a family chapter ended without me fully knowing it at the time. When I left, I didn’t realise that would be saying goodbye to my family life. It hadn’t computed then. Coming back has made that fact a painful reality. As I write this, tears are flowing down my face. The feelings that came with becoming an empty nester were something I was unprepared for.

Whilst stepping into this new independent life is exciting, there is also this deep sense of loss. I am learning to live with that grief rather than trying to move past it. Grief does not arrive on schedule. It appears when it is ready, and sometimes long after the event itself.

This is part of this stage of life for many of us who have had children. That deep, powerful love we hold for them. We begin to let go slowly as they spread their wings into adulthood. I feel pride, sadness, gratitude, and loss all at once. Such is life, and this is midlife in all its rawness and beauty, holding so many feelings at the same time.

There has also been a quieter realignment happening within me around choice. Choosing myself again. Leaving Europe after a long period of caring for my family was not an easy decision. Even now, I continue to process the guilt that I feel with putting myself first. It feels like an ever-decreasing circle, but one that still appears from time to time. Those of you whose parents live far away will know exactly what I mean.

Choosing myself is not abandoning others. It is acknowledging that I too am entitled to a life in which I can grow and create anew. This feeling of guilt does not need to be erased. I am not even sure that is possible. But it does need to be acknowledged and reframed. So often women carry guilt when they choose travel, independence, or change. We are taught to equate self choice with selfishness. I do not believe or agree with that.

The process of realignment I am experiencing is slow, unknown, and ongoing. It has been happening for the past few years.

As I move into 2026, I don’t know where I will be, or what I will be doing by the end of it, and that genuinely excites me. No expectations, just openness to the experience. A strong desire to be present each day and thankful for the small joys. Life passes quickly, a fact that becomes very clear at this age.

Travel does not fix your life. But it does change how we listen. To ourselves. To others. To what no longer fits and what wants to grow.

This is my midlife chapter, lived with awareness.

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