Parenting
Two years ago, I reached the milestone age of 41, and I took a leap I never thought a working mother of my age could—or should—attempt. I reinvented myself.
As a child, I explored various professional identities like they were costumes, each representing a bold new future. President, teacher, writer, psychologist, movie star—my imagination was boundless. It wasn’t until my 20s that I began to narrow my options, crossing off the White House and an Oscar. Yet, as an adult, I kept my possibilities wide open, choosing roles that felt meaningful and switching employers whenever a new opportunity piqued my interest. My advanced degrees allowed me to transition across different fields, and with no major commitments aside from staying financially stable, I embraced new experiences with youthful confidence.
Graduate school led me to policy work, which then transitioned into law school, clerkships, and ultimately a prestigious position at a top law firm. Initially, the role was rewarding and financially beneficial, but it soon became clear that I didn’t want to endure endless 15-hour days, the adversarial nature of the legal system, and being on-call around the clock. I thought about leaving, hesitated due to the potential pay cut, and then reconsidered again.
Then life took a turn. I married, became a stepmother, added a dog to our family, purchased a home, and welcomed a baby. All of a sudden, leaving my job wasn’t as straightforward as it once had been. There were bills to pay, college funds to save, and a home to maintain. Although some days I fantasized about staying home to raise the kids, I took pride in my financial contributions and valued my professional identity. I had invested years into my education and training, and I wanted my boys to see a strong working mother as a role model. Amidst it all, I felt a nagging pull that stability outweighed the excitement of new experiences.
Job-hopping didn’t seem responsible or rational for a mother. Quitting to embark on a new journey felt as unlikely as having an uninterrupted adult conversation or a full night’s sleep. Work became merely a means to an end, but I yearned for inspiration and a new challenge. My husband suggested I chase one of my childhood dreams on the side, so during the day, I addressed clients’ needs and partner demands. At night, once the kids were asleep, I immersed myself in writing. I wrote for free, seizing every spare moment, driven by a passion I had long suppressed. I tested the waters, contemplating whether it could evolve into something more than a sleep-depriving thrill.
After two years of weaving writing into my life’s cracks, and with my husband’s backing, I decided to leave my job and pursue writing full-time. At 41, with two children, I found myself unemployed for the first time in twenty-five years—both terrified and exhilarated.
I recognize the immense privilege I have in having a supportive spouse, financially and emotionally. However, I discovered that what had been holding me back all those years was not financial constraints, but fear. Fear of losing my identity, fear of failure, fear of judgment, and fear of disrupting my family’s dynamic. I had an endless list of “what-ifs” that stifled my aspirations and dreams.
When I resigned, I encountered disbelief from some colleagues and envy from others. I transitioned from a seasoned attorney to a budding freelancer, shifting from facing judges and adversaries to dealing with rejection from anonymous editors and feedback from faceless critics. Self-confidence became a daily struggle, and occasionally, I missed the structure of the office life—and yes, the paycheck too.
Nonetheless, any losses I experienced were minimal compared to what I gained: autonomy, flexibility, creativity, quality time with my kids, restful nights, and the chance to pursue a lifelong aspiration. I learned that skills from one career can be adapted and applied to another. My education and training were not wasted; they were simply repurposed. My family does not define me by my profession, and I spent too long believing they did. I may not have a book deal, a viral post, or a regular paycheck right now, and that’s perfectly fine. Currently, I am constructing a new career, and even in the face of potential failure, I know I can rebuild without regret.
Let’s be honest—making a radical change in midlife comes with its share of challenges and sacrifices. But if you’re seeking a fresh start and can embrace the journey of beginning anew, the rewards can be immense. While not everyone will become an E.L. James or Sara Blakely, we can all aspire to something greater. As Shel Silverstein wisely said:
“Listen to the mustn’ts, child,
Listen to the don’ts
Listen to the shouldn’ts,
The Impossibles, the won’ts
Listen to the never haves
Then listen close to me—
Anything can happen, child,
Anything can be.”
This article was originally published on June 9, 2015. If you’re interested in exploring parenthood or home insemination options, check out this excellent resource from Resolve.