In a few short months, I turn fifty. Fifty! What kind of sorcery is this? I remember when I got my first office job in 2001, my boss, Chuck, had just turned fifty. He seemed like such a grown-up! I remember thinking I would never be that grown up. Of course, I was wonderfully right about that.
I am happy to report I’ve never become as serious as fifty-something Chuck. Even seventy-something Chuck isn’t as serious as fifty-something Chuck. He’s cool as hell now (back then, he was just Dad cool). I remember telling him recently that I thought he had his shit together at fifty, and he laughed his head off. This all felt very, very encouraging.
When Chuck left six years after I started working with him, I knew it was coming. I remember him telling me that he started thinking about work scenarios on the treadmill and was troubled that the job was taking up so much space in his life. “He’s going to leave soon. I can feel it,” I would tell my coworkers months before he left.
“It’s time to open all the doors and windows,” he told us one morning. “I don’t know what’s next, but I want to find out.” Afterward, he became a banker, started making some real money (not nonprofit money), sold the house he bought in his twenties in Seattle, and moved to an island in Puget Sound. He and his lovely wife are still living there and spend time crossing off things on their bucket list. It makes me so delighted for them.
I’m back in Portland after an incredible thirteen-day road trip. I spent a lot of time driving around and walking on trails, wondering if I was going through a mid-life crisis. How does one know? Am I in one right now? I mean, I gave up my entire life in Seattle to move to Portland. I quit my job twice since I’ve been here. I had a uterus extraction, which my body is still adjusting to. I made some terrible decisions last year, and everything seemed to break down. Now, I am going on long road trips to think about my life.
That sounds mid-life crisis-y, right? Or does it sound like Giyen Kim is living her best life? It’s so hard to say.
I Googled “midlife crisis,” and you know what came up? “Midlife Crustacean,” a banned episode of Sponge Bob Square Pants where “A depressed Mr. Krabs turns to SpongeBob and Patrick to help him feel young again with a night on the town.” Apparently, Nickelodeon and Amazon took it out of rotation because of a “panty raiding” bit. Hold on while I find it online and watch it (thanks, Reddit).
Okay. I’m back. Harumph. I never understood the allure of that show. I’ll never get those nine minutes back. Doesn’t that make me sound old? Who’s Mr. Krabbs now?
Here’s the thing about turning fifty that has me mixed up. Rue McClanahan was 52 in real life when she started portraying “Blanche” on The Golden Girls. I watched that show throughout my childhood and actually thought people retired at 50. It feels a little insane now.
On the other hand, Jennifer Lopez is currently 54. She’s completely ridiculous … an energizer bunny robot that keeps going. It’s dancing and music and movies and skincare and collaborations. I feel tired just thinking about it.
If those extremes don’t make your head spin a little, I don’t know what will. describes it better in her breathtaking interview on :
“You have to understand that I grew up with women who were housewives and farmwives. By the time they were in their 50s, they were OLD LADIES …They looked — but more important: seemed — about 30 years older than me and my contemporaries appear to be now.“
I can totally relate. I don’t feel like my childhood version of fifty, and JLo is not to be outdone. But I do feel younger than I have in years. And thanks to genetics and my current regimen of French skincare, I am aging at a snail’s pace. Maybe not quite like JLo, but I am not planning on registering for that AARP card anytime soon—no disrespect to card carriers.
Vanity aside, I am so happy to report that this beautiful brain of mine is not slowing down. It’s revving up thanks to not being anemic anymore. I feel completely at peace knowing that I am at the beginning of something again. I’m scared. I have anxiety about it. But as I like to tell people, “Those who take on all the risks and responsibility get all the respect and rewards.” I know this to be true in my past career, but now it’s time to take on the scariest things in my own life and start crossing things off that bucket list.
There’s this quote in ’s interview that stuck with me throughout my trip:
“I keep hearing a voice in my head that says, “The second half of your life doesn’t have to look anything like the first half of your life. The first half was bound; the second half is free.” Free, free, ever more free. Free from my own distorted thinking, free from any lingering shame and fear and resentments, free from expectations.”
I feel that freedom in my grasp. I don’t want my second half to look like my first half. I want it to look different. I haven’t done my best work. I’ve worked hard at things that came easily, but I’ve never developed a sense of mastery around anything I wanted to get really good at. I’ve done work with purpose, but never work that was my purpose.
I know it seems wild to take on risk when the world seems so at risk. But that’s been my schtick. It gives me a sense of urgency and focus. Maybe the world will end soon or get really dire (just read the news), but it doesn’t mean the best is not in front of us. If ever there was a time to do our best work, it’s now. All we have is now.
So start that Substack. Run that 5K. Take more walks in the woods. Get that side hustle going. Put your work into the world and see what happens.
We love and risk heartbreak.
We hope and risk disappointment.
We try new things and risk failure.
It’s worth it. It’s always worth it in the end.
Call it a mid-life crisis, or call it opening up all the doors and windows and let come what may. Let’s keep going together. Onward into 2024!
I love you,
Giyen
