October 15, 2025
Today is my 40th birthday.
I have to admit, midlife crisis mode hasn’t hit…no sports car, no sudden desire to run off to Bali and "find myself." It just feels like a solid, reflective, very real milestone. I’m proud of the life I’ve built and everything I’ve learned the long, unconventional, roundabout way. But if you’d told 25-year-old me how it would play out? I’d have laughed, cried, and maybe rage-quit a few things.
If you remember the spoken-word song “Everybody’s Free (to wear sunscreen)”, that’s the inspiration for this reflection. I was probably 13-ish the first time I heard it and it’s stuck with me all this time.
So here it is: part third-person personal reflection, part notes to my younger self, and lots of unsolicited advice. The following has no scientific proof beyond first-hand chaos and a well-developed bullshit filter; but I offer it freely, with a full heart and a side of sarcasm.
If I could offer you only one piece of advice as you stare down your next decade, it would be this:
Give a shit.
Whatever you do, go all in. Don’t half-ass it. Be present. Care deeply. Show up for the people who matter. Give yourself fully to your family, your friends, your work, clients, and your life.
You will have more jobs than you’re comfortable admitting. And that does not make you a failure, despite what your inner critic will say when you’re doom-scrolling LinkedIn at midnight. It makes you human. Every seemingly random gig? Each layoff? It’s compost for future you. The stink is temporary. The growth is inevitable.
“Career ladder” is a bullshit term created by PR firms for recruiting agencies. Career Pinball is more realistic. Sometimes you hit the jackpot. Sometimes you tilt the machine. Just keep playing, because there’s no manual for this. Just instinct and experience. Follow the weird opportunities. Even the ones that don’t make sense yet. Especially those. Because when I was 18, I wanted to be a forensic scientist. Clearly, that worked out.
At 25, I thought at 40 I’d have my shit together. I pictured Fiji vacations, a Mercedes SLK (yes, that exact car), and money to splurge on whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Instead, I got a marriage I adore, two boys with big hearts, and a pool in the backyard. Turns out, that’s the good stuff.
I'm pretty sure I'm doing something right, because my boys decorated my office this morning and wrote me a card. They might be pains-in-the-asses sometimes, but they have huge hearts.
Self-doubt? Still here…as a wife, mom, and business owner. Some days I feel like I’ve got this whole adulting thing down. Other days, I’m questioning whether my kids will need therapy because I lost it over Legos on the floor.
Laundry and dishes? Still suck. Still unavoidable. No life hack will save you from these.
You’ll lose some friends. Not dramatically. Just quietly. That will hurt. You’ll wonder what you did wrong. Sometimes nothing. You’ll find new friends, people who light you up. And you’ll stop trying to hold onto relationships that only exist because you’ve been too polite to end them. But the real ones, the “come over in sweats, I bought snacks and tequila, zero judgment” people…hold onto them.
What does get easier? You’ll give fewer fucks. This is the gift of aging. Accept it. Enjoy it. Stop trying to make everyone comfortable. You are not a human air freshener. It’s liberating and highly recommend.
Worrying fixes absolutely nothing. It doesn’t clear traffic. It doesn’t make your webinar smoother. It just makes you sweat through your shirt.
Take the big risk. Even if it “fails.” I co-founded a brewery with my dad. It didn’t go how I imagined, and I grieved it. But it taught me more about operations, leadership, and grit than any MBA ever could.
Your job is not to manage other people’s emotions. You are not responsible for other people’s meltdowns. Protect your time, your sanity, and your family. That’s not selfish. That’s survival.
People often say I light up a room when I speak. That’s lovely. But after the webinar ends or the networking event is over, it’s like someone unplugged me. Maybe it’s narcolepsy. Maybe it’s introvert burnout. Either way, rest matters.
My younger self would be horrified that I spend 8 hours a day behind a screen, wearing the same leggings for three days. That’s okay. It’s not as bad as it sounds. Trust me.
I’ve spent most of my adult life saying, “In 3 years, I’ll have more money/time/clarity…” But the finish line keeps moving. At some point, you realize where you are is enough.
At 50, I imagine I’ll look back and say, “See? It all worked out.” So I’m telling myself that now. That it’s okay to not have it all figured out yet. It’ll click. And when it does, the momentum will be undeniable.
Trust your gut. If something feels off, it is. If something feels right, chase it like a toddler running with scissors.
Your life and marriage shouldn’t wither and die when you have kids. My hubby and I still have fun. Still game together. Still drink bourbon, smoke cigars, and laugh like the pre-kid versions of ourselves. That’s not trivial, that’s everything.
I want my kids to remember that I gave a shit. That I showed up, even when I was tired. That I said yes to board games, watching soccer practice as I freeze my ass off, and silly conversations. That I listened to them endlessly rattle off facts about Minecraft and Luigi’s Mansion, because it’s important to them. That I taught them empathy, honesty, hustle, and how to be decent humans.
Design the life you keep talking about. Take the damn Friday off. Say no to the client that gives you hives. Make out with your spouse in the kitchen, in front of the kids while they yell “eeewwwwwwww Moooommmmmmmm”. Take the bubble bath.
Everything is relative. People who are 60 tell me I’m young. People who are 25 probably think I’m ancient. But one thing’s the same…we’re all growing older, so be kind to yourself while you do it. Don’t try to get it perfect. Just try to get it real.
And remember: there’s no such thing as arriving. Just evolving. Growing. Unlearning. Rebuilding.
But seriously, give a shit.
Trust me on that one.