You’re allowed to evolve. No permission slip required.
When you chose your role in life, did you imagine it was permanent?
And when you started wanting something new, did it feel like that meant you’d made a mistake?
It doesn’t mean something’s wrong. It means something’s finally right.
The title “teacher,” “mom,” “VP of marketing,” or even “wife” sticks like dried glue. You’re praised for consistency. For reliability. For staying the course.
But what if staying the course is the exact thing that keeps you from becoming more of yourself?
This isn’t about reinvention for show. It’s about release. Shedding identities that were real and meaningful—but aren’t the whole story anymore.
You’re not betraying your past by changing. You’re completing it and living beyond it.
Start by telling the truth—first to yourself.
We’re not always ready to blurt out our new selves at a dinner party. That’s okay. Try it in a journal first. Or whisper it on a walk.
Ask: What part of me feels outdated? What part feels alive, but underused?
Try rewriting your introduction. Not your LinkedIn bio. Who you are or want to be - right now. Something like:
“I’m a woman discovering what I love now.”
“I’m in a season of learning to be curious again.”
“I write, I wander, I listen—mostly to myself, finally.”
Don’t worry if it’s messy or unfinished. Finding your next is a process, not a job title. The key is to start speaking from where you are, not just where you’ve been.
And if it feels scary, remind yourself: nothing beautiful grows without change.
WHY NOW?
Because the cost of staying small is too high.
I once heard a woman in her seventies say, “I used to be someone.” She said it with a laugh, but I felt the sting in it. The world often stops seeing you once you’ve stopped producing, parenting, or performing. But you can choose to see yourself differently.
You are someone. Still. Even now.
There’s a lightness that comes when you stop wearing an identity you no longer want to carry. You breathe easier. You start reaching for the right things instead of the expected ones.
Other women are doing this too. Letting go of titles. Starting projects at 65. Going back to school at 72. Falling in love with watercolor. Or themselves.
It’s never too late to become the woman you’re still meant to be.
Before you go—
If this stirred something for you, I’d love to leave you with three quiet questions I keep coming back to myself. You don’t have to answer them out loud. But writing them down might help you hear your voice a little clearer.
3 Journal Questions to Help You Name Who You’re Becoming
What have I outgrown—even if part of me still feels attached to it?
What’s one small thing I’d love to try or say if I didn’t worry about what others would think?
If I gave myself full permission to change, what’s the first thing I’d let go of?
And two more I always return to, simple but powerful:
What do I really want right now?
What if?
At this stage of my life, I want what I create to feel open. No locked doors. Fiction, reflections, behind-the-scenes posts—all free.
Not because it isn’t worth paying for, but because real connection matters more to me now.
If what I write speaks to you, there’s always an option to support. But the heart of it stays open.
I think part of that evolution is the increase in the 'silver divorce' rates. Of which, I'm one. There are different expectations in later years, and women are more able to ask for what they need.
Wow. This is really worth the read. Keep putting it out there! 👍