44 Was My F**k It Age (Maybe It’s Yours Too)

At the age of 48, I'm sharing exactly what changed and what happened next...

“I’m too old to start over in my career (I did. Aged 44)

I’m too old to create videos on TikTok (I now have 78k followers there - come say hi!)

I’m too old to realise my dream of writing about things that excite me, inspire me, frustrate me and fascinate me (I now have two Substacks, one on leadership and careers, and one on the midlife female experience - welcome!)”

I shared this on the substack Notes platform last week (think Twitter/X before Musk) and it went a teeny bit viral.

It resonated with so many of you because here’s the thing…

Turns out you’re never too old and it’s never too late.

I was 44 when I said: enough.

Enough of doing what I was “supposed” to do. (I had an extremely successful corporate career, but post-pandemic, was questioning - deeply - from the depths of burnout - whether I could see myself doing it at 70)

Enough of being grateful for things that no longer fit. (And I don’t just mean my clothes - thanks peri menopause! - but any self-limiting beliefs and other people’s assumptions about the life I “should” be leading, that I had been harbouring for so long, they were woven into the fabric of who I was. Except, they weren’t me. Not the real me anyway.)

Enough of waiting for a lightning bolt of clarity before making a move. (This rarely happens except in terrible rom coms.)

But I’ll tell you what DOES happen. To women. In midlife, And it tends to be around the age of 44 - what I now call my “magic age.”

Where after 20+ years in one career, I changed direction, retrained and now work for myself (happily!) as a leadership and career coach for senior professionals.

And not because I was wildly confident or had it all figured out.

But at 44, something shifted. It was part logic, part instinct, and part magic. I finally gave myself permission to say:

You get to want more than this. And you deserve it.

Looking back, 44 was the year I got real.

So, What’s the Deal With 44?

Turns out there’s actual research to back this up. I love a bit of science and here it is.

There’s something statistically significant about our mid-40s. A study by Stanford University detected two major waves of age-related changes at around ages 44 and again at 60. So at these ages, we’re ageing faster than ever - that process intensifies and speeds up here.

Yay. (I knew there was a reason my eyesight chose the age of 44 to suddenly decline…)

In addition, other research shows that 44 often marks the end of the so-called “midlife dip” in happiness: the U-curve made famous by economists like David Blanchflower and Jonathan Rauch. Things actually start to lift from here. It’s a kind of psychological reset. A chance to re-evaluate, reprioritise, and reimagine.

Combine these two factors and suddenly, your mortality shuffles into sharper focus (well as good as I can get it with my beautiful Ace & Tate glasses).

And you may well have reached the bottom of that happiness U-curve (I know I had), giving you a strong sense of:

“Enough now. Time to make a change before I die.”

Yes, it really was that dramatic in my head. My internal monologue is WILD.

Factor in biological hormone change too. (I’m NOT a doctor, this is just my experience).

Turns out, my declining oestrogen levels were also helping me return to a more authentic version of myself. One that wanted to rediscover all of the things I loved as a child and as a young woman (writing and dancing are just two of those) and that was now ready to jettison many of the things I felt I “should” be doing or be interested in as a midlife adult. (Like cooking dinner every night. Nope. That’s what crackers were invented for.)

I felt more able to say no to things. To refuse to be as helpful as I could make myself in the service of everyone else’s needs and never my own. And to start being much, much clearer about what I wanted and why.

I also conducted my own, highly un-scientific WhatsApp poll of women I love and trust and guess what? So many of them cited 44 as a year of clarity, chaos, or quiet revolution. Some left jobs (or partners), others launched businesses, some finally spoke up after years of playing small. All of them changed.

And there’s one more thing that really hit me aged 44, as I contemplated my career.

“44 isn’t the end of my career. It’s the middle.”

After more than 20 years carving out a very successful corporate career, I felt tapped out. As if I had reached the maximum range of my potential and I was stressed and bored. The worst combination for me.

But I realised that I may have another 20 years of working ahead of me.

And that’s enough time to build another very successful career if I chose.

Reader I did choose. And the rest, for me, is history.

Why 44 Might Be Your Turning Point Too

Here’s what I know now, from coaching dozens of midlife women and being one myself:

• By 44, you’ve seen and experienced enough to know what matters, and what no longer does.

• You’ve likely hit a point where you’re done tolerating things: toxic culture, career drift, invisible labour, all of it.

• You’ve still got decades ahead in your career (or careers, plural), and now you want to use them well.

And yes, ageism is real. We too often prize fresh energy over deep wisdom (hey - you can have both you know!) But that doesn’t mean we have to be wait to be picked off the shelf. It means we can choose to pick ourselves.

And no, this wasn’t the easy route by any means. It was messy, scary, and involved several existential spirals (which I am PRONE to), a negative affect on my finances and many, many dark nights of the soul. But it was mine. And I wouldn’t go back.

At 44, I stopped asking for permission and started backing myself.

Turns out midlife will do that to you.

Join the Women on the Verge community

I write for the midlife women who are done being nice, quiet, or stuck. And I explore everything that midlife has to offer us - from pop culture to deep-rooted mindset shifts. I’m obsessed with the awfulness of And Just Like That and I miss alcohol, but am transformed enough to stay alcohol-free (at least for now. Turns out midlife and wine - a combination to land you in the depths of despair…) And I still love a late night mocktail in Paris…

If that’s you, come join me.

If it’s your best friend, send her this.

And if you’re my husband, congrats on reading this far honey…