Most Woman In MidLife Don’t Feel Alive. Here's Why
What to do when everything is "fine" but nothing feels alive
You know that feeling when you’re scrolling your phone, not looking for anything specific, just... scrolling? Waiting for something to catch your attention?
Is this what your whole life feels like right now?
Not broken. Not crisis-mode. Just endlessly refreshing, waiting for something to load.
Last spring, a client described it perfectly...
“I finally have space,” she told me. Grown kids. Calmer job. Fewer fires to put out. She’d been waiting for this moment for years. The relief that was supposed to come when everything finally settled down.
Instead, she felt like she was refreshing the same feed over and over on her phone, waiting for new content that never appeared.
We didn’t go searching for her “passion.” We didn’t create a vision board. We didn’t meditate on her purpose.
I gave her small stakes. Tiny experiments she could finish.
Within a month, she had a spark in her eyes. Not because everything changed, but because something mattered again.
The peculiar emptiness of “fine”
This is what I’ve noticed in fifteen years of sitting across from people.
The crisis moments—the breakups, the layoffs, the health scares—those bring people in. But the quiet suffering? The “I don’t know what’s wrong, everything’s fine” feeling? That’s what keeps them stuck.
“Fine” is the most dangerous word in the English language.
Because you’re not falling apart, there’s no emergency. You’re functional. Productive, even. But somewhere along the way, you stopped feeling alive in your own life.
You’re a browser with 28 tabs open, and not one of them is interesting.
Why this happens (and why it’s not your fault)
Your brain is doing exactly what it’s supposed to do. Three things are probably true:
You’re living yesterday’s priorities. The goals that mattered five years ago, get promoted, get the house, get the kids through school, those boxes are checked. But you never sat down and asked: what matters now?
Your routines are stale. Wake up, coffee, email, meetings, dinner, Netflix, sleep, repeat. Efficient? Yes. Alive? Not exactly. Your days have become background noise.
Nothing you care about is on the line. When there’s no challenge, no experiment, no small risk, your brain does what any good energy manager would do: it powers down. Conservation mode. Autopilot.
The lie about passion (and the truth about meaning)
We’ve been sold this story that meaning arrives like a lightning strike. One day, you’ll wake up and know your purpose. You’ll feel the spark. Everything will click.
Spoiler: that’s not how it works.
Meaning isn’t found. It’s built. One small, honest experiment at a time.
Think of it like this: you can’t think your way into motivation. You have to act your way into it. Momentum comes from movement, not from waiting for the perfect moment of clarity.
Here’s what actually works:
Start with something small you can finish this week. Not “find your passion.” Not “transform your life.”
Try: “Make something with my hands on Saturday.”
Or: “Learn how to do yoga.”
The goal isn’t the thing itself. The goal is to wake your brain back up. To give it something to care about. Something at stake, even if the stakes are tiny.
What my client actually did
She started small. Almost absurdly small.
She signed up for a pottery class. Not because she dreamed of being a ceramicist. Because it was on Thursdays, it was $40, and she could touch something with her hands.
She hated the first class. Almost quit. But she’d paid for six weeks, so she went back.
By week three, something shifted. Not a lightning bolt. Just... interest. Curiosity. She started looking forward to Thursdays.
Then she started a tiny garden. Then she reached out to an old colleague about a project idea she’d been sitting on. Then she said no to something she’d been saying yes to for years.
None of it was life-changing. Together, it changed her life.
Your move
If you’re “fine” but empty, you don’t need a grand plan.
You need one small stake. One experiment. One thing that could matter, even a little.
Ask yourself: What’s something I could start this week that I could actually finish?
Not “should.”
Not “would be impressive.”
Not “would fix everything.”
What would wake you up, even 2%?
Do that. Finish it. See what happens.
Meaning isn’t out there waiting for you to find it. It’s a practice. A skill. A muscle you build by using it.
You don’t have a passion problem.
You have a permission problem.
You’re waiting for your life to feel important enough to invest in.
For the perfect idea. For clarity to strike.
Stop waiting
Pick something small. Something finishable. Something that scares you.
Do it badly. Do it anyway.
And when you’re done, notice how different “fine” feels when you’ve put something at stake.
That’s not magic.
That’s momentum.
Start small. Start messy.
Just start.
What’s one small experiment you could do this week? I’d love to hear what you’re thinking. Drop a comment below.