Chasing Myself at 40: Musings from the In-Between

There’s this saying that life begins at 40. But does it? Because right now, it feels more like a sequel that forgot the original plot. I’m somewhere between chasing a future I can’t quite define and wondering if I accidentally pressed “shuffle” on the soundtrack of my life.

I’ve Been Through A Lot, But Where Am I Exactly?

Somewhere along the way, parts of me seem to have gone missing—like socks in a dryer. It’s strange. I remember the highlights—college adventures, first jobs, heartbreaks, and triumphs—but the finer details? I’ve fallen through the gaps somehow. Life feels like it’s coasting on autopilot, more like drifting down a lazy river than steering my own ship. And to be honest, floating with the current isn’t so bad. But is that what I really want? Is there more?

Routine: A Blessing or a Trap?

Days blend into each other now—work, family, meals, sleep, repeat. The rhythm feels familiar, even comforting, but a quiet voice inside me questions: Is this all there is? Don’t get me wrong—there’s something reassuring about routine. It’s like being wrapped in a cozy blanket on a rainy day. But a part of me longs for the spark, the unpredictability, the excitement of crafting my own story instead of just playing a supporting role.

Do I Build a Home or Book a One-Way Ticket?

There’s this longing to set roots—to paint walls with memories, adopt plants (that I may or may not forget to water), and finally call some place home. But the other side of me has a serious case of wanderlust. I want to explore foreign markets, meet strangers with stories, and drink wine under Tuscan skies. It feels like my soul is caught between the allure of a passport stamp and the promise of a cozy couch.

Dreams at 40: Do They Expire?

There was a time when I had big dreams, sky-high ones. But now, I find myself wondering: What does dreaming at 40 even look like? Should I still aspire for more? Or is the beauty of midlife about learning to appreciate what I already have? There’s this sneaky voice that says: Isn’t it too late to chase something big? And yet, another part of me whispers: Maybe the best dreams are yet to come.

The Bookshelf Battle: Judith McNaught vs. John Maxwell

I used to lose myself in Judith McNaught’s pages, devouring romance and drama like candy. These days, I pick up John Maxwell’s self-help books, hoping they’ll fix my life, but… I never make it past chapter three. Does that say something? Maybe I want to escape into fictional worlds more than I want to build a personal development plan. Or maybe I just need the right blend—a little romance and a little motivation.

What Am I Even Chasing? Or Am I?

So here I am, chasing… what exactly? A dream? An old version of myself? Or perhaps just clarity. But what if there’s nothing to chase? What if life is just a series of musings—valid musings—but musings nonetheless? Maybe figuring things out isn’t about finding signs or answers but about being comfortable in the ambiguity.

And perhaps that’s the lesson. At 40, life isn’t about the thrill of the chase but about learning to pause—to appreciate the in-between moments. Maybe it’s okay not to have all the answers. Maybe it’s okay to ride the current for a while. Because the story’s not finished, and maybe—just maybe—the best chapters are still ahead.

Here’s to reflections and unexpected detours, unfinished books, old dreams left behind, and new ones waiting to unfold. Or maybe, the only thing worth chasing is myself—wherever I happen to be, at 40 and beyond.

And that, I think, is a story worth telling.