The nurturing must now turn inward — I've been sitting with that line since I read it.
For me the reckoning arrived on a couch, doom scrolling for inspiration on what to do next. Not a dramatic moment. Just the quiet horror of realizing I had no idea what I actually wanted — only what I was supposed to want next. I'm still working out the difference.
There is something unsettling about realizing you have spent years knowing how to meet expectations, fulfill roles, care for others, achieve, accommodate, and keep life moving, while not fully knowing yourself underneath all of it.
And I think that’s why this can feel so disorienting when they finally arrive, because a deeper part of you is beginning to ask questions that were buried beneath survival, responsibility, and conditioning for a very long time.
The fact that you are even able to recognize the difference between what you truly want and what you were taught to want feels deeply important.
Linda, your description of "the bargain" breaking resonated deeply with me. After decades of disordered eating, menopause was the stage of life where I could no longer rely on the strategies that had helped me feel safe and in control. What initially felt like a crisis eventually became an opportunity to build a different relationship with my body.
I found myself returning to your insight between recovery and discovery. For many of us whose struggles with food and body image began so young, there is no earlier, peaceful relationship with our bodies to return to. The work becomes one of discovering, perhaps for the first time, what it means to live in our bodies with trust and compassion.
Thank you for giving voice to an experience that so many women are living but rarely speaking about.
Robin, I really appreciate this perspective. When I wrote about recovery versus discovery, I hadn't fully considered that for some women there isn't actually a peaceful earlier relationship with the body to return to.
For women who have spent decades struggling with food, weight, body image, or control, the work may be something entirely different. It may be about discovering for the very first time what it feels like to trust the body, listen to it, nourish it, and live inside it with compassion rather than criticism.
There is something incredibly hopeful in that, even though I know it is not easy work. Thank you for sharing this. I think you've added a really important layer to the conversation.
This paragraph names the hard part so clearly: the old body beliefs return. About size, weight, appearance, capability, health, and what a woman’s body is “supposed” to be.
As a somatic practitioner working with women, this is the layer I keep seeing: those beliefs are not only cultural ideas. They are often held in the nervous system as imprints.
When the imprint beneath the belief resolves, unlearning does not have to be endless repetition. The old voice can lose its charge because the body no longer organizes safety, worth, or belonging around it.
Stephanie, thank you for this. I think you've touched on something very important. Many women spend years trying to change the way they think about their bodies, only to discover that the emotional response remains long after the belief has been challenged intellectually.
What you're describing helps explain why this work can feel so much deeper than mindset alone. When those old associations between body, worth, safety, belonging, and identity begin to loosen, something shifts at a completely different level.
I love your observation that the voice loses its charge. That feels like such a powerful way of describing genuine healing.
Thank you, Linda. I really appreciate how you reflected this back. Yes — that’s exactly the distinction that matters to me: the belief can change intellectually while the emotional charge remains in the body.
That’s why the phrase “the old voice loses its charge” feels so accurate. The voice may have been learned culturally, but the grip often lives much deeper.
I've lived this journey...decades of pushing myself physically (I was a fitness instructor for 27 years) restricting what I ate, never inhabiting my body, in fact almost seeing it as an enemy, but at 68, I'm finally learning to move in ways that feel good, truly nourishing myself with food and being with my feelings. It's very tough at times, particularly when I feel full of adrenaline as I do today, but I'm not allowing myself to speed up or to take flight; I'm not letting fear take root, just staying calm and being inside my skin. Thank you for seeing those of us who walk this path Linda, it means so much.
Karen, I think so many women will recognize themselves in what you wrote. There is such a long history of women learning to override their bodies, disconnect from their feelings, and push through exhaustion, tension, hunger, stress, or emotional pain as though the body is something to manage rather than listen to.
And what touched me most is the gentleness beginning to emerge in the way you now relate to yourself. Learning to nourish yourself, stay present with your feelings, and remain inside your body instead of fleeing it feels like such deep healing work.
Thank you for sharing this so openly and honestly.
Appreciate that your writing includes room for those of us who aren't mothers. There is an experience being had on this side of the fence too, and your articles manage to feel inclusive and respectful of that while still acknowledging the profundity of motherhood.
Thank you for this. I think there can sometimes be an unconscious tendency to speak about midlife through a singular lens, when in reality women arrive here carrying very different life experiences, identities, losses, freedoms, relationships, and paths.
Motherhood is one profound experience of womanhood, but it is not the only one. There are many ways women love, nurture, create meaning, evolve, and move through transformation across a lifetime.
I’m really grateful the writing felt respectful and expansive enough to include your experience too.
The nurturing must now turn inward — I've been sitting with that line since I read it.
For me the reckoning arrived on a couch, doom scrolling for inspiration on what to do next. Not a dramatic moment. Just the quiet horror of realizing I had no idea what I actually wanted — only what I was supposed to want next. I'm still working out the difference.
There is something unsettling about realizing you have spent years knowing how to meet expectations, fulfill roles, care for others, achieve, accommodate, and keep life moving, while not fully knowing yourself underneath all of it.
And I think that’s why this can feel so disorienting when they finally arrive, because a deeper part of you is beginning to ask questions that were buried beneath survival, responsibility, and conditioning for a very long time.
The fact that you are even able to recognize the difference between what you truly want and what you were taught to want feels deeply important.
Questions buried beneath survival and responsibility for a very long time — that's exactly the phrase I didn't have. I'm writing it down.
Linda, your description of "the bargain" breaking resonated deeply with me. After decades of disordered eating, menopause was the stage of life where I could no longer rely on the strategies that had helped me feel safe and in control. What initially felt like a crisis eventually became an opportunity to build a different relationship with my body.
I found myself returning to your insight between recovery and discovery. For many of us whose struggles with food and body image began so young, there is no earlier, peaceful relationship with our bodies to return to. The work becomes one of discovering, perhaps for the first time, what it means to live in our bodies with trust and compassion.
Thank you for giving voice to an experience that so many women are living but rarely speaking about.
Robin, I really appreciate this perspective. When I wrote about recovery versus discovery, I hadn't fully considered that for some women there isn't actually a peaceful earlier relationship with the body to return to.
For women who have spent decades struggling with food, weight, body image, or control, the work may be something entirely different. It may be about discovering for the very first time what it feels like to trust the body, listen to it, nourish it, and live inside it with compassion rather than criticism.
There is something incredibly hopeful in that, even though I know it is not easy work. Thank you for sharing this. I think you've added a really important layer to the conversation.
This paragraph names the hard part so clearly: the old body beliefs return. About size, weight, appearance, capability, health, and what a woman’s body is “supposed” to be.
As a somatic practitioner working with women, this is the layer I keep seeing: those beliefs are not only cultural ideas. They are often held in the nervous system as imprints.
When the imprint beneath the belief resolves, unlearning does not have to be endless repetition. The old voice can lose its charge because the body no longer organizes safety, worth, or belonging around it.
Stephanie, thank you for this. I think you've touched on something very important. Many women spend years trying to change the way they think about their bodies, only to discover that the emotional response remains long after the belief has been challenged intellectually.
What you're describing helps explain why this work can feel so much deeper than mindset alone. When those old associations between body, worth, safety, belonging, and identity begin to loosen, something shifts at a completely different level.
I love your observation that the voice loses its charge. That feels like such a powerful way of describing genuine healing.
Thank you, Linda. I really appreciate how you reflected this back. Yes — that’s exactly the distinction that matters to me: the belief can change intellectually while the emotional charge remains in the body.
That’s why the phrase “the old voice loses its charge” feels so accurate. The voice may have been learned culturally, but the grip often lives much deeper.
I've lived this journey...decades of pushing myself physically (I was a fitness instructor for 27 years) restricting what I ate, never inhabiting my body, in fact almost seeing it as an enemy, but at 68, I'm finally learning to move in ways that feel good, truly nourishing myself with food and being with my feelings. It's very tough at times, particularly when I feel full of adrenaline as I do today, but I'm not allowing myself to speed up or to take flight; I'm not letting fear take root, just staying calm and being inside my skin. Thank you for seeing those of us who walk this path Linda, it means so much.
Karen 💫
Karen, I think so many women will recognize themselves in what you wrote. There is such a long history of women learning to override their bodies, disconnect from their feelings, and push through exhaustion, tension, hunger, stress, or emotional pain as though the body is something to manage rather than listen to.
And what touched me most is the gentleness beginning to emerge in the way you now relate to yourself. Learning to nourish yourself, stay present with your feelings, and remain inside your body instead of fleeing it feels like such deep healing work.
Thank you for sharing this so openly and honestly.
Wow so good!
Elizabeth, thank you. I'm so glad it resonated with you!
Appreciate that your writing includes room for those of us who aren't mothers. There is an experience being had on this side of the fence too, and your articles manage to feel inclusive and respectful of that while still acknowledging the profundity of motherhood.
Thank you for this. I think there can sometimes be an unconscious tendency to speak about midlife through a singular lens, when in reality women arrive here carrying very different life experiences, identities, losses, freedoms, relationships, and paths.
Motherhood is one profound experience of womanhood, but it is not the only one. There are many ways women love, nurture, create meaning, evolve, and move through transformation across a lifetime.
I’m really grateful the writing felt respectful and expansive enough to include your experience too.