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As I approach the last year of my forties, I find myself grappling with changes I never anticipated. My body is transforming in ways that leave me both bewildered and frustrated. I can hardly believe that not long ago, I barely gave a thought to what my life might look like two decades down the road. Now, here I am, staring at fifty, wondering where the time went and what I could have done differently.

Marriage at this age is no easy feat. It’s a complex dance between two people who have weathered years of life’s storms. There are days when I feel like I’m struggling to keep up, not just with my partner, but with myself. My body doesn’t move the way it used to, and the mirror reflects a version of me that sometimes feels like a stranger. It’s disorienting, to say the least.

I often look at my daughter, twenty years my junior, and I see the same fire in her eyes that I once had. She’s vibrant, full of life, and completely unaware of the subtle ways time will start to take its toll. In twenty years, she’ll be where I am now, and I can’t help but wonder what she’ll think. Will she look back with the same mix of regret and determination that I do? Or will she find a way to navigate these waters with more grace?

It’s funny, but twenty years ago, I didn’t have the foresight to imagine what life would be like today. I was too caught up in the moment, in the daily grind, to pause and think about the future. And now, I’m left wondering how different things might have been if I’d taken the time to reflect, to plan, to prioritize my own well-being. Maybe I wouldn’t be struggling as much with these changes if I’d taken better care of myself, both physically and emotionally.

The truth is, I’m struggling. I’m struggling to understand my body as it changes, to find my place in this stage of life, and to figure out how to make the most of this remaining year in my forties. I want to be healthier, happier, more at peace with who I am and where I’m going. But that path isn’t always clear, and I’m still finding my way.

This struggle is not new to me. My life has been a series of battles, some harder than others, and each one has left its mark. I’ve endured losses that have shaped me, trials that have tested me, and I’ve come out on the other side, not unscathed, but certainly stronger. Yet, this new chapter feels different. It’s not just about surviving anymore; it’s about thriving, about finding joy and fulfillment in the time I have left.

And then there are my grandsons. They are a constant reminder of the importance of taking care of myself, of making sure that I’m around to watch them grow into men. I want to see them navigate their own paths, find their own loves, and maybe even start families of their own one day. The thought of being there for them, of being a part of their journey into adulthood, is one of the strongest motivators I have. I don’t just want to exist in their lives; I want to be an active, engaged presence, someone they can look up to and rely on.

I know I’m not alone in this. So many women face these same challenges as they approach midlife, and it’s comforting to know that I’m part of a community that understands. But it doesn’t make it any easier. The physical changes, the shifting dynamics in my marriage, the reflections on the choices I’ve made—they all weigh heavy on my mind.

So, what do I do? How do I move forward with grace, with purpose? How do I find a way to embrace these changes rather than resist them? I don’t have all the answers yet, but I’m determined to figure it out. This last year of my forties will be about discovery, about taking stock of where I’ve been and deciding where I want to go.

I may be struggling now, but I’m also hopeful. I’ve faced down challenges before, and I’ll do it again. Because that’s what this stage of life is about—embracing the struggle, learning from it, and coming out the other side stronger and more determined than ever.

As I navigate this journey, I hope to share my experiences with others who might be going through the same thing. Together, we can find a way to not just survive, but to truly thrive in this next chapter of our lives. For me, thriving means being there to see my grandsons grow, to witness the men they’ll become, and to share in the joy of watching them build their own futures. That is the legacy I want to leave behind.