Dear You,
Midlife was supposed to feel steadier than this.
That’s what they told you, right?
You were supposed to be established by now.Confident.Settled in your skin.
Instead, you’re carrying grief that doesn’t always have a name.
Some of it is obvious—the person you buried,the parent you lost,the spouse, the sibling, the friend.
But some of it is quieter.
It’s the version of yourself you thought you’d be by now.The friendships that faded without drama.The career path that shifted.The energy you used to have.The body that doesn’t feel like it used to.
No one sends flowers for those losses.
And because they don’t come with casseroles or sympathy cards,you sometimes wonder if you’re allowed to grieve them at all.
Grace & Grit Letters - Where grace meets grief by Angie Hanson is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
But you feel it.
The ache when you look back.The ache when you look forward.The strange in-between where you’re not young—but you’re not done.
Midlife grief is layered.
You’re grieving people.You’re grieving expectations.You’re grieving timelines.
And you’re doing it while still showing up.
Still working.Still parenting.Still caring for aging parents.Still trying to be the strong one.
There’s a particular exhaustion that comes from grieving while being needed.
You don’t get to collapse.You don’t get a season off.
You manage the bills, the schedules, the appointments—while carrying something heavy in your chest.
And because you function well,people assume you’re fine.
But functioning and flourishing are not the same thing.
I want you to know this:
Just because your grief is quieter now doesn’t mean it’s gone.
Just because you’ve learned to carry it gracefully doesn’t mean it weighs less.
You are allowed to mourn the life you imagined.You are allowed to miss your younger self.You are allowed to feel unsettled in a season that was supposed to feel secure.
Midlife isn’t just about reinvention.
It’s about reckoning.
It’s where you start asking deeper questions:
Who am I now?What do I still want?What do I release?What actually matters?
Grief sharpens those questions.
It strips away the unnecessary.It makes small talk harder.It makes authenticity non-negotiable.
You might feel like you’ve outgrown rooms you once fit in.
That’s not arrogance.
That’s awareness.
And awareness can be lonely.
But it is also clarifying.
Midlife grief doesn’t mean you’re unraveling.
It means you’re becoming more honest.
More intentional.
More unwilling to waste time pretending.
There is depth in you now that wasn’t there before.
And depth changes everything.
So if you feel invisible in your grief—if you feel like the world expects you to have it figured out by now—if you quietly think, Shouldn’t I be past this?
Let me answer you gently:
No.
Grief doesn’t expire because you hit a certain age.
It evolves.
And so do you.
You are not behind.You are not dramatic.You are not too sensitive.
You are navigating a season that holds both loss and wisdom.
And that combination?It is powerful.
With you—in the middle of it all,Angie
