a midlife moment
reflections from that first whisper of spring.
I was recently lying on the chair on our front porch, jacket wide open, face tilted to the sun, chatting with a girlfriend on the phone — and I felt it. The subtle shift in the light. That divine, gentle first whisper of almost-spring.
This week I came across a quote from Neha Ruch:
“I don’t accept a culture where saying I want more time with my kids makes me less ambitious, less feminist, less full of potential.”
It landed, full body.
A few weekends prior, at a hockey team dinner in Ottawa, I was sitting there with a warm bowl of noodles, squished between my three daughters, when a lovely mom I’m getting to know asked,
“So, Christine — what do you do?”
Gulp.
Maybe you know that question.
The one that seems simple, but somehow isn’t.
Over the past three years, I’ve consciously chosen to slow my professional life significantly. And yet in that moment, I couldn’t quite say the simple truth:
I’m an entrepreneur taking an exhale. I’m choosing a slower pace to have more time with my girls and to give more care to my family.
Instead, all my old sound bites came rushing out. I talked about the businesses I’ve built, the leadership roles I’ve held, the communities I’ve created, my passion for entrepreneurship. I found myself defending who I used to be.
And later that night, I wondered — why is it still so hard to stand firmly in a choice I know is right for me right now?
The truth is, I am deeply aligned with my life right now. Grateful for the new contours of it.
And still, the old wiring hums underneath. The wound is deep:
Who am I if I’m not achieving, accomplishing, earning, mentoring, being externally validated?
So many of us were raised on achievement as identity. Productivity as proof. Busyness as worth.
And now:
If we work too much, we feel out of balance.
If we work too little, we feel out of balance.
It’s a tender, liminal space.
This season has felt like a long, slow unwinding, unlearning. And even now, this felt sense lives just beneath the surface. As my inner terrain shifts, my outer world is only beginning to catch up.
I was reminded of one of my favourite lines from a text I study, A Course in Miracles:
“In my defenselessness my safety lies.”
Let that one land. Oooooof.
Can we practice being undefended in who we are today. And know we are safe there.
I have much more to say on this. Perhaps I’ll be brave and share more on my Substack.
But for now — a few ways I’m supporting myself through this final stretch of winter in these two posts: 11 rituals and homestretch to spring.
Love,
Christine
PS: If you enjoy theseupdates and shares weekly (ish!), subscribe to my newsletter. I love being in connection there. I think I have the most loving, kind email list ever. Plus, when you join, receive access to a gift I created for you. Enjoy one of my sacred practices — Metta Bhavana Loving Kindness Audio Meditation.