We often hear the phrase “midlife crisis” but where did it come from, and why do we use it?

The term was originally coined by Elliott Jaques in 1965 to describe a period of life, typically between 40-60, where adults tend to reckon with their mortality and consider the accomplishments they’ve made so far.

In recent years, the phrase has come to be used with more derogatory connotations. It’s a way of poking fun at people who we consider to either be in denial about their age, and making supposedly reckless decisions, or anyone who decides to introduce change in their middle years.

There are midlife crisis stereotypes for both men and women. For men, it’s usually related to status and a desire to prove virility (think fast cars and younger women). For women, it’s often more emotional and tied up in self-confidence as it relates to our appearance (a desire to look younger and gain/maintain societal approval).

These stereotypes can be damaging as they overlook the fact that midlife can be a time of intense overwhelm as we experience multiple shifts and challenges.

In additional to physical changes, our personal relationships are likely entering new territory as we navigate growing children (or the absence of them), aging parents, and sometimes, differences in values within our friendships. We’re (re)considering our roles within society and how they impact our identity.

Sometimes midlife comes with a sense of remorse that we may have followed a particular path in life because we thought it was the right thing to do, and perhaps that path hasn’t brought us the fulfillment that we hoped for.

Sometimes there’s feelings of envy or shame as we compare our success, according to societal standards, with the accomplishments of other people.

And sometimes, especially for women, we struggle with aging visibly because an anti-aging culture has told us, on-repeat for decades, that our appearance is directly linked to our worth.

To minimize and mock the nuances of this transitional time by jeeringly labeling it a crisis is to deny ourselves an opportunity to deeper explore who we are now, and who we might still become. When we fixate on the label of “crisis”, we’re less likely to stay open to the possibility that the unfolding chapter in front of us might offer.

Let’s take a closer look at some of the challenges midlife can bring and how we can reframe them in order to feel as though we’re reclaiming our power, rather than having it stripped away.

Challenge 1: A sense of remorse for past choices

Aging can gift us with an increased sense of awareness. We have more life experience now than we’ve ever had before, and with that experience comes an ability to recognize that some of the choices we’ve made may have been heavily influenced by societal expectations versus what we truly wanted for ourselves.

However, it’s arguable that there are any wrong choices. We make decisions based on the information we have available to us at the time, and also as a way of meeting our needs at that time. For example, the need to make money to keep a roof over our heads, the need to be loved or accepted, the need to feel secure or protected, or free and liberated are all entirely valid.

But it’s also true that our needs change throughout our lives, as does the way we receive and filter information, so comparing what we know now, and how we feel now, and the choices we would make now, to what was right for us, say, a couple of decades ago isn’t really useful because we are different people experiencing a different set of circumstances.

There’s a movie I saw recently on Netflix called Look Both Ways that shared an interesting take regarding the choices we make and how they impact our lives. I recommend it for a lighthearted but thoughtful watch. It might surprise you.

Challenge 2: Comparing our success to other people’s

We tend to look at other people’s lives and create a story about what we perceive their reality to be like. We can be incredibly imaginative as we paint a detailed picture of all the amazing things they have accomplished or have access to that we don’t. Whether it’s their house, their job, their relationship, or their appearance, we convince ourselves that they’re doing better than we are and we feel inferior by comparison.

Let’s unpack that.

It’s important to remember that any kind of success comes with at least a degree of sacrifice or compromise. We cannot do all of the things, all of the time while simultaneously being all things to all people. We are human, and whether we like to admit it or not, we have limits in terms of how much we can juggle at any given time.

For example, you can’t dedicate yourself fully to your career and dedicate yourself fullyto your family. You can of course have a career and a family, but not without some kind of compromise or sacrifice along the way. And often it’s not a one-and-done thing, it’s a series of compromises that are ongoing, because you are one person who can only be in one place at one time with your full and complete attention.

Before you start comparing your success, or your life, to anyone else’s, please remember that no two human beings are exactly the same. Not a single one of us. Isn’t that wild? We have different bodies, different energy pools, different sources of support, different capacities, different discriminations to deal with, and different access to different opportunities.

With that in mind, the idea that we define success by such specific achievements is almost laughable because how could we possibly measure each individual by a rigid set of assumed ideals?

As Jonathan Louis Dent said: “Imagine if we defined success by the amount of safety people felt in our presence”.

Yes, imagine that. And allow yourself to imagine other definitions of success that aren’t based on what we own, how we look, or our financial or relationship status. Those are things that can change in an instant. What are the constants that come from you? The gifts you give to the world? Pay attention to those and count them as successes. They matter.

Challenge 3: Visibly aging

As women, we’ve become so accustomed to seeing ourselves through the critical lens of the beauty industry that the views we hold about our appearance are completely unrealistic.

From an early age we’re keenly aware of how pretty or attractive we’re deemed to be by the world around us. Once we reach puberty and begin to have some awareness of sexual desire, beauty ideals are further established or reinforced.

During our adolescent years, we often look to our peers for affirmation of our attractiveness. We start to cement a link between society and our self-worth. External validation becomes increasingly sought after, especially as we are in a state of upheaval hormonally and trying to clutch on to what we can to help steady ourselves.

We’ve grown up seeing our mothers and grandmothers, along with women in books and on screens, seek approval via the male gaze and we typically follow suit.

It’s little wonder that we start to believe that signs of aging are something to fear.

But the truth is that our bodies are meant to change over the course of our lives. Our skin is meant to change. In the same way that it’s futile to compare our knowledge and awareness to that of a couple of decades ago, the same applies to our looks.

We don’t shame a toddler for not looking like a newborn baby. We don’t shame a teenager for not looking like a toddler. Yet somehow, as we get into our forties or fifties, we are supposed to be ashamed of not looking as though we’re in our twenties or thirties.

Recognizing the impossible expectations that an anti-aging culture places on us helps to take away the intensity from the issues we experience as a result of living within that culture. Plus, it also highlights that we have built our societies on standards that don’t make sense.

It’s no accident that at the exact time that many women have an opportunity to truly come into our power, we’re pulled back into self-doubt and insecurity because our skin doesn’t look the same as a 25 year old, or someone who’s using filters or Photoshop.

So, are we in fact having a midlife crisis? Or is this just another label that society throws out there to further disconnect us from our own knowing, our own wants, our own desires, and our own joy.

What if it wasn’t a crisis but a time of curiosity? What if it wasn’t a crisis but an exploration of who we are now, and who we can still be? What if it wasn’t a crisis but a rejection of the ideals that have never served us? What if it wasn’t a crisis but a chapter of new choices that we get to make for ourselves?

If you’re in midlife and you’re experiencing a shift of some kind, if you’re starting to get curious about what’s next for you, or feeling as though you’re on the cusp of great change, or a series of small changes, please permit yourself to enjoy the exploration.

Don’t allow the world to attach a label to you just because you have the courage to create change in your life (the key words being “your life”). We only get one shot at this. Don’t waste your precious years feeling too afraid to do what brings you joy because of a set of societal rules that you never even chose for yourself.

Change and transition do not have to be considered a crisis: they’re an opportunity. I urge you to seize each opportunity with both hands and make the very most of every drop of potential that comes with it. Not a single thing in life is set in stone. Let this knowledge offer you comfort and reassurance that all things are still possible. At any and every age.

If you’d like more support on your midlife journey, join thousands of other women and take a look at my popular pro aging courses that will help you transform your aging experience.