Once in a while, I feel compelled to write about cultural moments and the way they impact the way I think about psychotherapy (as someone who has the privilege of hearing about people’s most personal stories).Seeing Bonnie Raitt recently live for the first time (now in her 70s) was one of those moments that really hit me.
Not because she looked or sounded like someone trying to prove that age doesn’t matter (unlike some other artists I’ve seen).
Quite the opposite.
She seemed completely uninterested in proving anything.
Her voice was still incredible, as she sipped away at her mug, taking care of her “moneymaker” as she called it with a chuckle. She and her band moved more slowly across the stage than I imagine they did in the past.
Bonnie Raitt talked about aging. About the world. About her anxiety. US politics. About hate instead of love. About people she had loved and lost. About past partners she still appreciated and felt lucky to have in life. She was at times almost pleading with the audience to care about the world she said we are losing.
She also gently joked a lot. About herself, her aging knees, her hair colour, her preference for PJ’s and comfy slippers, and the need to get on the road to Ottawa. I felt like I was in her living room in a raw and honest conversation. She was unapologetic.
In all of this, I found myself thinking about an artist’s perpetual need to perform; about how so many of us feel the need to perform. Raitt was having none of it. She was trusting herself, her voice, her ability to share, and the audience’s ability to handle it.
It got me thinking about the work I do, the people I see, and what happens when we finally stop performing?
Not performing on a stage.
Performing ourselves.
The performance of being okay.
Many of us become very good performers.
We learn how to be the capable one.
The good daughter.
The reliable partner.
The successful professional.
The patient parent.
The person who can handle everything.
We learn how to look fine when we aren’t.
We learn what people expect from us—and how to deliver it.
And for a while, these performances can work.
They may even help us survive.
But sometimes we reach a point in life when the performance becomes exhausting.
The old ways of being ourselves stop fitting.
You may have built a successful career and suddenly wonder if you even like the work.
You may have spent decades caring for everyone else and managing their feelings, and realize you don’t know what you want anymore or who you are.
Your children may be becoming independent.
Your parents may need you in different ways.
Your marriage or long-term relationship may be changing.
Your body may be changing.
You may be approaching or moving through menopause.
Or perhaps nothing dramatic has happened at all.
You simply wake up one morning and think:
Is this really who I am?
Midlife can be an awakening
This is one reason I don’t always think of midlife as a crisis.
Sometimes it is an awakening.
The stories that worked when we were younger may no longer work.
The approval that once mattered may matter less.
The career identity, relationship role, family role, or version of success that once felt important may suddenly feel strangely empty.
And that can be frightening.
Because when an old identity starts to loosen, we don’t necessarily know what comes next.
There can be grief in becoming more authentic.
You may have to grieve the person you thought you would become.
The marriage you thought would look different.
The career you assumed you would have forever.
The younger version of yourself who believed there was still unlimited time.
But there can also be freedom.
What if you don’t have to reinvent yourself?
I sometimes hear people describe midlife as needing to “find yourself.”
I’m not sure that’s quite right.
Perhaps you aren’t lost.
Perhaps there are parts of you that have been waiting for more room.
The creative part.
The playful part.
The angry part that knows something isn’t fair.
The exhausted part that doesn’t want to keep over-functioning.
The part that wants adventure.
The part that wants quiet.
The part that has finally realized that being needed isn’t the same thing as being loved.
Becoming more authentic doesn’t mean throwing away your responsibilities or blowing up your life.
Sometimes it is much more nuanced.
It can mean telling the truth sooner.
Saying no without writing an essay to justify it.
Admitting that something hurts.
Acknowledging that you want something.
Allowing yourself to disappoint someone.
Making room for pleasure without needing to earn it.
Learning who you are when nobody is applauding.
Aging can change the question
Raitt also talked about a song she wrote around turning 40, when the fear of running out of time was very real.
That made me think about how our relationship with time changes.
At 40, you may feel you need to hurry.
At 50, you may begin to realize how much of your life has been shaped by expectations.
Later, the question may become less:
“What have I accomplished?”
and more:
“How do I want to spend the time I have?”
That is an existential question.
And it can be a beautiful one.
Because there is something liberating about realizing that you don’t have to become more impressive.
You might simply want to become more you.
The courage to be ordinary and real
Maybe authenticity isn’t a dramatic transformation.
Maybe it is what remains when we stop trying so hard to be who we think we are supposed to be.
Bonnie Raitt standing on that stage reminded me of that.
She could acknowledge that the world is painful.
She could talk about getting older.
She could remember people who were no longer here.
She could sing someone else’s song.
She could laugh.
She could be grateful.
She could simply be there.
And perhaps that is part of what growing older can offer us.
Not certainty.
Not immunity from grief.
Not freedom from anxiety.
But fewer reasons to pretend.
Less performance.
More honesty.
More choice.
More appreciation for the people beside us.
More willingness to use the time we have to become the person we actually are.
Maybe midlife isn’t the beginning of becoming someone new.
Maybe it is the beginning of becoming less divided from yourself.
A Gentle Next Step
If you are in a season of midlife transition, burnout, relationship change, grief, identity questioning, or what feels like a midlife awakening or unravelling, therapy can provide space to explore what is changing beneath the surface.
You may not need to “fix” yourself.
You may need space to understand what no longer fits—and what is asking to emerge.
I offer in-person psychotherapy in Hamilton and the surrounding area, as well as online therapy across Ontario, for individuals, couples, and families navigating life transitions, relationships, grief, burnout, trauma, and questions of identity, meaning and connection. I offer free 15-minute phone consultations.
Sometimes therapy isn’t about becoming someone different.
Sometimes it is about becoming more fully yourself. Imagine the relief!
Disclaimer: This blog is for educational and informational purposes only. It is not a substitute for psychotherapy, medical advice, diagnosis, or individualized mental health treatment, and reading it does not establish a therapeutic relationship.
Tags: midlife transition, midlife awakening, midlife unravelling, authenticity, finding yourself, identity transition, existential therapy, life transitions, aging, women in midlife, Gen X, burnout, meaning and purpose, Hamilton therapist, Ontario therapist
#Midlife #MidlifeAwakening #MidlifeUnravelling #Authenticity #FindingYourself #LifeTransitions #IdentityShift #ExistentialTherapy #MidlifeWomen #GenX #FindingMeaning #HamiltonTherapist #OntarioTherapist #TherapyOntari#Midlife #MidlifeAwakening #MidlifeUnravelling #Authenticity #FindingYourself #LifeTransitions #IdentityShift #ExistentialTherapy #MidlifeWomen #GenX #FindingMeaning #HamiltonTherapist #OntarioTherapist
