I am 46. It doesn’t pain me to tell y’all that. I mean, I guess I could lie, but let’s be honest–it doesn’t change a thing. I’m still 46. And according to the magic box I hold in my hand that gives me information (also known as “Google”) and an inside look into peoples’ lives (aka: “social media”), being 46 makes me…wait for it…middle-aged. And while that term doesn’t bug me much, middle-aged means I’m mid-life and that term rattles me a little.

I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’m thinking my life is half-over that bugs me or what, but man, did I spend a few days this week really thinking about mid-life. Am I disappointed in what I’ve accomplished? No. I mean, I could always accomplish more, but my life is nothing to sneeze at. I have either avoided or (barely) muddled through some of the big pitfalls that a lot of Gen Xers face today in mid-life. I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to consider myself lucky, blessed, grateful, and all that jazz, right? There’s no doubt I am all of those things–and “all that jazz”–but what is going on with me in this “mid-life?”

I don’t know. Maybe it’s having adult children who have either just graduated college or are just about to graduate college and worrying about how on earth they’re supposed to grab hold of the “American dream” in today’s climate. Maybe it’s the occasional hot flash that has me diving head first into the freezer with barely a tank top on. Maybe it’s the outrageous emotions that I cannot seem to corral anymore (although my husband would argue they’ve always been there, these. are. different). Perhaps it’s the idea that I should be more, have more, do more–I should birth a side hustle, I should write consistently for X minutes every day because it’s my dream to write, I should stay longer at work to show my commitment, I should not love spending so much time doing absolutely nothing, I should exercise more and eat better, I should take better care of my skin and keep a cleaner house, I should not spend so much time on the aforementioned magic box. I’m shoulding all over myself here and nothing seems to be the lone culprit.

I’m assuming that’s because it’s a nice little combination of all the things I’ve listed plus the extensive list in my head and on my heart that makes it so I can’t sleep through the night without gummies, melatonin, and a sleep mask (I would use ear plugs, but I’m scared I wouldn’t hear an intruder). I’m no expert, but I’m about to be a self-proclaimed one.

I’m about to embark on a journey through mid-life as a Gen-Xer and maybe you’re looking at the same journey or someone you love is. I’m about to research until my eyes dry out and I have a theory: I think that my generation needs this. I think we need to open our eyes and our ears, get to the library (not really, but you need to know I love me a good library research sesh and real books), and SHARE. WHAT. WE’RE. LEARNING.

Now that I’ve spent some time talking with some people I trust and love about mid-life, why have we not talked about this before? Have I just not been paying attention because I thought it would never come for me? Whatever the reason, let’s figure this out. Let’s face this with some joy and some grace and some dang grit and let’s come out better because of it on the other side (dear Lord, what is the next phase called?). But let’s not just do this alone. Let’s talk. Let’s share. Let’s do the best thing for each other and help each other out. And let’s not be cranky while we do it.

I’m Danielle. I’m excited you’re here and I can’t wait to share what I learn and hear from you along the way. Have something you’d like to share? Email me at danielle@daniellemquinn.com and let’s talk!