When I turned 40, it felt like a true milestone—not just because of the number, but because something inside me shifted. Even though time is a relative perception, 40 felt like a mountain peak—a moment where I could look back with clarity and ahead with hope.
By then, my children were less physically demanding, and I finally had the space to return to passions and hobbies I had long put aside. Years of parenting, studying, multiple immigrations, and simply surviving had consumed so much of my focus. Yet, that spark for creativity and learning never truly left—it had simply been waiting for the right moment to resurface.
In my 40s, I began to see life differently. I felt freer. The pressures and need for approval that had defined my 20s and 30s started to fall away. Physically, I felt stronger than ever. Mentally, I was open, curious, creative, and ready. Even though some of my peers were more “settled” in their careers and lives, I often felt like I was still at the beginning—and, truthfully, in many ways, I still feel that way.
My 40s were filled with energy and creation. I was constantly building and creating, both in my personal life and career. Almost every day brought a new idea, project, or path to explore. But looking back, I recognize that the early part of this decade still carried a bit of that fear of missing out. I didn’t always know how to say no. I was trying to do it all—taking every opportunity, always moving.
In the latter part of my 40s, as life became more complex—personally and globally—I learned the importance of standing up for my rights. I realized that our integrity and values are not negotiable. I learned when something demands me to compromise who I am at my core; it’s no longer the right path. Trusting that letting go of what doesn’t align will lead me to something better. Trusting myself enough to move forward even when the path is uncertain or bumpy.
Now, at 50, life feels different; quieter in some ways, but also more grounded. I say no more easily. I don’t chase everything. I rest when I need to. I’ve learned that mental freedom is deeply tied to physical freedom. In my 40s, being active was a joy; now, it feels essential. Neglecting my well-being, even slightly, has a greater impact. Staying committed to my health isn’t optional anymore—it’s the foundation for everything else.
The biggest shift, however, is in how I value the moment. I’ve started letting go of what doesn’t serve me. I ask myself, “Does this object, this habit, this relationship help me live more fully?” If the answer is no, I let it go. Decluttering has become not just a physical practice, but an emotional and spiritual one. I no longer want to waste time managing what doesn’t matter. I want to feel free, light, and present.
Nature, too, speaks to me differently now. I’ve always loved it, but now I cherish it more deeply. I know I have a limited number of springs, summers, falls, and winters left to witness. A limited number of sunsets and sunrises. Each day has always been a gift, but now I understand its value more profoundly. I want to be awake for it all.
I’ve started to see the fruits of my labor—whether in my professional or personal life. But there’s also a tender realization about unintentional mistakes I’ve made along the way. Now, with more experience and knowledge, I can trace the root causes of some outcomes. More than before, I catch myself wishing I could go back—parent with the wisdom I have now or manage my personal and professional life differently. But I know I did my best. And life isn’t about perfect decisions—it’s about growth and continuing to show up with love.
Fifty feels like turning a page—into a chapter with more space, more honesty, and more freedom to be fully myself. The journey continues, and I’m walking it with more clarity, courage, and care than ever before.