Reflections at the close of the year - & a woman blossoming in midlife

As this is the final newsletter of 2025, I wanted to take the opportunity to pause for a moment - to reflect not just on the year that’s closing, but on where I find myself now, how I feel in my mid-50s, and the changes that have quietly and not-so-quietly unfolded over the past five to ten years.

This year has certainly brought with it one of those significant milestones that we reach as adults - the kind that reshapes you whether you are ready for it or not. I haven’t spoken publicly about this before, but earlier in the summer we lost my mum after a long period of illness. It was a decline that came slowly, and then quickly, and then slowly again - until she reached a point where there was negligible quality of life, despite the very best efforts of her family and carers.

Mum’s passing was very different from that of my father, which happened over twenty years ago now - sudden, shocking, and far too early, both for him and for us. In contrast, Mum’s death was, in its own way, when it finally came, a blessing - albeit a very painful one. It does, however, mark one of those profound thresholds that we inevitably cross as women in midlife and beyond.

If we are fortunate enough to have our parents with us into our 50s and older, then we know intimately that shift - the moment when you move from being the child to suddenly realising you are now the older generation. It’s a subtle but seismic change. In practical terms, it had been a long time since I realistically had a mother-daughter relationship. Over recent years, the parent-child dynamic had slowly reversed, but losing that entirely over the last twelve months has been an emotional shift of its own.

Coming to terms with your mother no longer recognising or fully comprehending the distress or pain of her child is, I think, one of the hardest things to reconcile. Especially when you’ve been fortunate enough to have a parent who, despite disagreements and differences of opinion, was always unquestioningly loyal and supportive. That loss - even before death - leaves its mark.

Since Mum’s passing, something has been gently stirred in me. A renewed purposefulness around family. A desire to draw in old ties with cousins. A determination that meetings are no longer accidental, but intentional. Diaries are filled, plans are made, connections are maintained. This Christmas is no exception - in fact, my diary is probably fuller than it’s ever been with family gatherings. There is simply no time left to take those relationships for granted, and the death of a parent throws that into sharp relief.

And yet, there is a flip side.

Alongside this renewed sense of family closeness, there has also been space - space for Ken and me to decide what we want. To let go of certain obligations that were hangovers from childhood family dynamics. Expectations around hosting, roles we assumed we would always play.

This year, for the very first time, the big day itself will be just the two of us.

And we are celebrating that.

Just the two of us, not as someone’s aunt, someone’s sister, someone’s daughter - but simply as the individuals we are, and the individuals we are still becoming. A day that is, for once, just about us.

Curiously, this links beautifully with one of the great discoveries of moving into midlife. I think it was David Bowie who said that getting older is a process of getting back to the person you were always meant to be. And over the past few years - not just this one - I have increasingly felt that.

I feel as though I’ve been returning to the person I was before adolescence, adulthood, and obligation layered themselves on top. Before societal expectations took over. Before the familiar scripts of what grown-ups do - get the qualifications, get the job, climb the ladder, behave appropriately - began to dictate the shape of life.

My late 40s and 50s have been a time of letting go of much of that. A very fortunate position to be in, I know. But also one that has allowed me to remember and rediscover what I loved as a younger person.

I’ve fallen back in love with clothes. With colour. With dressing up. With makeup as creativity rather than correction. With being outdoors. With dancing. With marvelling at the strength and sheer miracle of my own body - and appreciating the miracle that is me, rather than bemoaning what I am not.

I went through a phase in my late 30s and early 40s where I foolishly got rid of clothes because they were “no longer appropriate.” Too short. Too bold. Too something. I decided, somewhere along the way, that being 50 looked a certain way.

What an idiot.

All those gorgeous things I put aside because I had absorbed an idea of how ageing should look. Now I think: being 50 - or 55 - can look however the hell you want it to. We can look, speak, and feel however we choose. This is exactly the time to embrace and express our true selves, in whatever form that takes.

There’s something delicious about the confidence that comes with middle age, coupled with the curious invisibility we’re often granted as women. I’ve decided to embrace that invisibility - to use it as freedom. Part of my brain thinks, well, it doesn’t matter because nobody’s looking anyway. And the newly confident part replies, and even if they are, I don’t care.

It’s a very happy place to be.

So yes - it’s been a mixed old bag of a year. I’m sure that yours has been one of challenges too - undoubtedly it will have been. But I hope and expect they are challenges you have managed to conquer. Because you’ve faced every challenge before this one, and you are still here.

Regardless of the slings and arrows, you have prevailed.

As we close the door on 2025, I hope you are standing tall, strong, and confident - wherever you are in your 40s, 50s, or beyond. Because whatever age we are, the future can be bright. It can be shaped and moulded into something that truly reflects us.

This stage of life can be about distilling ourselves down to our true essence. About surrounding ourselves with people who celebrate that essence. About mingling all those essences together - creating the richest scents and flavours and joy.

I wish you a very, very Merry Christmas, and a truly Happy New Year. I’ll see you in 2026 - and I hope to get to know some of you better as we move forward together.

In 2026, my intention is simple: to continue creating space for honest conversations about midlife, menopause, identity, and becoming - without judgement, rush, or rigid rules.

If you find yourself wanting more clarity, more confidence, or simply a place to feel seen and supported as you navigate this stage of life, I would love to walk alongside you. Whether that’s through shared reflections, practical guidance, or one-to-one support, my work in the year ahead is about helping women reconnect with themselves - in their bodies, their choices, and their sense of possibility.

If that resonates, stay close. Read along. Reach out when you’re ready. There is no right pace - only your pace.

Wherever you are on your journey, you don’t have to navigate it alone.