Hi lovely,
April is my birthday month, and I always feel a quiet pull to slow down and take stock this time of year. Not in a big, dramatic way. Just a gentle pause. A moment to notice where I am, what I’ve lived through, and what feels true for me right now. This year, I found myself drawn to the questionnaire from Oldster Magazine. The questions are simple, but they open the door to deeper reflection.
I’m sharing my responses with you here. Not because I have it all figured out, but because I know how powerful it can be to hear someone else name their experience. My hope is that something in here resonates, or gently invites you to turn inward and check in with your own life, in your own way.
How old do you feel right now physically, emotionally, or creatively?
I like to think I feel my age in the sense that I’m exactly where I need to be on the cusp of 53. There’s something settling about that. At the same time, my body has its own opinions. There are days when the aches and pains make me feel older than I am, and I’m learning to listen to that without making it mean something is wrong. It’s just part of the conversation of being in a body over time.
Is there an age you remember feeling most yourself? Why?
I loved being 18, in my first year of university. I met people in my Communication Studies program who would become dear friends for life. I felt seen and understood in a way that was new to me. There was so much possibility in the air. And yes, a lot of parties too, luckily with very little photographic evidence of those wild analog nineties moments. It felt expansive, like I was just beginning to discover who I could be.
Do you feel ahead of your peers, behind, or in step with them?
In the past few years, I’ve really questioned the idea of timelines. Hustle culture feeds us this constant sense of urgency, like we’re always running out of time. I don’t buy into that the way I used to. I’ve come to see myself as a late bloomer and a non-conformist. I started my coaching practice at 45. I’m not married. My life hasn’t followed a conventional path, and I’m actually proud of that. I feel more in step with myself than with any external measure.
What has aging given you that you didn’t have before?
Perspective and patience, for sure. I also feel a deeper trust in myself. I’m less afraid to speak up, and I care a lot less about what other people think. There’s a stronger connection to my intuition, to that inner knowing. Maybe it’s also because the world feels heavy right now, but I notice I have a deeper reverence for beauty. Small moments of joy feel more meaningful, more necessary.
What has aging taken away, and how have you adapted?
Midlife is a trip. I miss waking up feeling completely rested. I miss having that boundless, almost unconscious energy to just go and do. Now, everything asks for a bit more intention. I’ve adapted by slowing down on purpose. By choosing rest when I can. And by seeking out the wisdom of older women especially. They hold so much lived experience, and I find myself learning from them in a way I didn’t before.
How has growing older shaped your sense of identity or purpose? I feel less pulled to be “out there” and more drawn to a quieter, more grounded life. There’s something about this stage that feels more honest. I’m less interested in proving anything and more interested in living in a way that feels aligned and intentional.
Which age in your life has been your favorite so far? Would you go back if you could?
Twenty-six stands out. I was living and working in a remote village in western Japan. It was my first time living abroad and fully on my own. I felt free, curious, open to everything. I carry that version of myself with me. She reminds me of what it feels like to be fully alive and engaged with the world.
What changes have you made for your health, style, or well-being as you’ve aged?
I’m much more conscious of my health than I used to be. I barely drink alcohol now, and I try to move my body every day in some way. Sleep has become more complicated with perimenopause, so I look for pockets of rest wherever I can. I take lots of vitamins and supplements, even if part of me suspects they’re more about the feeling of control than anything else. My body has changed, and I’m working on staying strong in a patriarchal culture that doesn’t make that easy for women.
What changes have you refused to make and why?
I’ve refused to give up joy. I still go out dancing. I see friends. I go to rock shows and movies when I can. My life is better when I’m connected to art and culture, especially in a city like Montreal. That part of me is non negotiable.
What do you enjoy most about where you are in life right now?
There’s a calmness now that I didn’t have before. A kind of quiet peace. It’s not that everything is easy, but I feel less shaken by things. More rooted.
What scares you most as you think about the years ahead?
It’s hard not to feel deep grief about the state of the world. I think about what my son will inherit, and there’s a heaviness there. Sometimes it feels relentless. When I get overwhelmed, I come back to a line from Haruki Murakami that stays with me: “Maybe working on the little things as dutifully and honestly as we can is how we stay sane when the world is falling apart.” That helps me return to what’s within my reach.
What are you still figuring out about yourself or your path?
For a long time, I thought I would arrive somewhere. That there would be a moment where I’d feel settled and certain. I don’t think that moment exists. The past couple of years have been difficult, and in many ways I feel like I’m starting over. That’s not an easy thing to accept at 53. I’m learning to meet that with compassion instead of resistance.
What accomplishments or growth are you proudest of right now?
I’ve created a family and a home life that feel safe and loving, which is not something I always had growing up. That means a lot to me. My work gives me a sense of purpose, and I’ve built a strong, meaningful community around me. I’ve also moved through grief without letting it take over completely. Last year, I wrote a song with my music therapist, which still feels a bit surreal and very special.
What goals or dreams are still calling to you?
I want to grow my business and take up more space. That’s an ongoing edge for me. I have a complicated relationship with marketing and self-promotion, so I’m figuring out how to do that in a way that feels honest and not performative. And lately, more than one person has told me I should write a book. I’m starting to listen to that a little more closely.
If you’re reading this (thanks for making it this far!), I want to gently invite you to pause for a moment and check in with yourself. Not in a performative way. Not in a “fix anything” kind of way. Just a quiet, honest check-in.
What feels true for you right now?
What have you lived through that deserves to be acknowledged?
What is asking for your attention, even if you’re not quite ready to act on it yet?
We don’t always take the time to mark where we are. To notice what we’ve carried, what we’ve shed, and who we’re becoming in the process. But there is something powerful about witnessing your own life as it’s unfolding.
If any of these questions stay with you, let them. You don’t need to rush to answers.
Wishing you a happy and gentle spring,
Vesna
The love list:
Watching: DTF St Louis
Reading: This article by Daisy Auger-Dominguez on how burnout looks different across the org chart.
Listening: Prentis Hemphill in conversation with Dean Spade about threads of connection.