LIFE & MOTHERHOOD COACH FOR MAMAS IN MIDLIFE

Category: Mindset

  • The Room Still Wasn’t Right — Until I Added the Sunflowers

    New here? This post is adapted from my weekly newsletter, Rediscovery — sent every Monday to women over 50 finding their way back to themselves. Sign up here to get the next one straight to your inbox.

    The Room Still Wasn’t Right — Until I Added the Sunflowers

    How are you? I hope you’re well. This week I finally finished something I’d been chipping away at for weeks – brightening our sitting room.

    New curtains were up. I’d repainted two old wicker chairs sage green. I’d made the cushion covers, one set patchwork, one floral with a gingham trim. I’d swapped the pictures on the wall for bright, modern florals. Decluttered, changed the rug. Every piece, in place.

    And it still wasn’t right. Something was missing.

    Then yesterday I put a vase of sunflowers on the table.

    That was it. That was the final piece that lifted the room. It went from nice to somewhere that lifted me, somewhere that made me smile and, well, just, feel happy. And then I thought – that’s not really about the room.

    You can get everything technically right. The curtains hung, the chairs painted, the frame of a life arranged exactly the way it should be. And it can still be missing the one thing that makes it feel like yours. Not more sorted. More alive.

    I’ve been doing a lot of sorting lately – clearing out, taking care of everyone, getting things in order, making sure the structure underneath me and my family is solid. And don’t get me wrong, structure truly matters. We all need that foundation, that security we can build on. But structure doesn’t give you the spark. It doesn’t give you that feeling of aliveness which is unique to you, that makes you you.

    That addition to your life can be small. For me, this week, it was a vase of fresh flowers on the table. A choice, made on purpose, to bring a gentle vibrancy into a quiet, intentional space.

    This week’s reflection:

    Where have you done all the “right” things – and forgotten the sunflowers?

    Have a think about:

    • Your home
    • Your body
    • Your work
    • You, plainly, underneath all of it

    Pick one. You don’t need to overhaul it. You just need the fresh thing, not the renovation. The flowers, not the whole room done again.

    Freshness isn’t decoration. It’s how you know you’re still living your life and not just maintaining it.

    With love and best wishes always,
    Susy

    P.S. If you want a hand working out how to rediscover the spark that’s unique to you, that’s exactly what a Connection Call is for. Reply here and we can book in a relaxed, free, no obligation chat.

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , , , , ,

    New here? This post is adapted from my weekly newsletter, Rediscovery — sent every Monday to women over 50 finding their way back to themselves. Sign up here to get the next one straight to your inbox. The Room Still Wasn’t Right — Until I Added the Sunflowers How are you? I hope you’re well.…

  • Peace Didn’t Wait

    New here? This post is adapted from my weekly newsletter, Rediscovery — sent every Monday to women over 50 finding their way back to themselves. Sign up to get the next one straight to your inbox.

    Peace Didn’t Wait

    How are you? I hope you’re well. This week, I sat at our table in the sitting room with a coffee in my favourite mug, “relaxing guitar music” playing quietly on Alexa, and I felt beautifully at peace. Charlie was outside on the bench in the garden, waiting for his blue hair dye to take hold, sun on his face.

    Nothing was happening. Nothing needed to happen. And it was one of the loveliest feelings I’ve had in a long time.

    I made a vow there and then: whatever happens in life, I’m keeping hold of that feeling. That sense of peace is my anchor now.

    Because life can be tricky, can’t it – for all of us, no matter how fortunate we are. There will always be moments of upset, challenge, and stress; we’re either in one now, waiting for one, or just come out the other side of one. But if we can hold onto that feeling of peace underneath it all, it doesn’t stop the difficult things happening – it just means we have somewhere steady to stand while they do.

    For me, this particular moment of peace came at a complicated time. My stepdad’s memorial service was two weeks ago. He would have been so proud of all that was said about him and I miss him. It’s left a quiet, hollow kind of absence in our family that I’m still getting used to. Grief has been sitting alongside me these past weeks, quietly, in the background of everything. And then, in the middle of all that, came this: a coffee, some guitar music, my son and his blue hair in the sunshine.

    Peace didn’t wait for the grief to finish. It just arrived, right in the middle of it, and asked to stay. That’s something I’m learning slowly: peace and hard things can exist in the same room together. You don’t need one to be over before you’re allowed the other. Peace can be interrupted too – by the people and situations around us. Unresolved tension, things left unsaid, small frictions that don’t get sorted – they have a way of quietly chipping away at whatever calm you’ve built. I notice it much faster than I used to now.

    I notice when something outside me is pulling at my peace, and I ask myself: is this mine to fix, mine to release, or mine to simply let pass through?

    This week’s action

    Notice when you feel at peace, and notice what you were doing when it arrived. It’s rarely the big, planned moments – usually it’s something small and ordinary. If you can’t remember the last time you felt it, that’s alright. It doesn’t mean it’s out of reach for you.

    Sit somewhere quiet, on your own. Close your eyes. Breathe in, and be aware of that breath filling your lungs. That’s often where peace starts – not in a grand gesture, but in one honest breath.

    Find out what your personal, unique anchor is. For me, right now, it’s gentle guitar music. For you it might be birdsong, a walk, a craft. Experiment with what is yours.

    With love and best wishes always,
    Susy

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , , ,

    New here? This post is adapted from my weekly newsletter, Rediscovery — sent every Monday to women over 50 finding their way back to themselves. Sign up to get the next one straight to your inbox. Peace Didn’t Wait How are you? I hope you’re well. This week, I sat at our table in the…

  • I Know What I Heard

    New here? This post is adapted from my weekly newsletter, Rediscovery — sent every Monday to women over 50 finding their way back to themselves. Sign upto get the next one straight to your inbox.

    I Know What I Heard

    This week we have the memorial service for my stepdad, and at the same time I’ve needed to declutter the house. When someone dies, there is so much to do…it feels like there needs to be a pause button in life, just to take those extra breaths and to take time to look back at our stories.

    What happens to us, the words that are said to us and how we take them in shapes our life. Validating them, knowing their truth or untruth, shapes our daily lives.

    I remember the exact sentence. I remember where I was when it was said to me. I remember thinking, even at the time: is this for real? I remember saying that out loud, because it mattered.

    For a long time afterwards, I quietly ignored it and rewrote it in my own head. Told myself I’d probably overreacted. That it wasn’t really worth the feeling it had left me with, they didn’t mean in that way. That version – the smaller, more forgiving version – was easier for everyone, including me.

    It took me years to trust my own memory of it again. Years to say: no, actually, that really did matter and those words really did hurt. I know exactly what was said and how it felt, and I don’t need anyone’s agreement to know that.

    This is the thing I see now with women I speak with. Not that they’ve lost their voice – they speak perfectly well. It’s that somewhere along the way, someone convinced them their own memory needed a second opinion.

    “You’re too sensitive.” “It wasn’t that bad.” “That’s not what happened.” “You’re overreacting.”

    Repeated over enough years, that can leave you doubting the one witness who was there for your whole life. You. Until one day, you know in your bones that you were right all along.

    I know this pattern so well because I lived it before I ever coached a single woman through it. And I know exactly what it takes to come out the other side of it, because I’ve done it myself. It’s the moment a woman finally says something out loud that she’s been quietly doubting for years – and instead of it being rewritten for her, it’s simply witnessed. Yes, that happened. Yes, you’re allowed to feel what you felt about it. And yes, you can move forward from it.

    That’s most of what I actually do. I don’t fix anything. I hold space for the woman to find her own truth, her reality.

    Here’s the practice I use for myself, and offer to others. Whenever someone rewrites what happened to you, write down two things, side by side. Their version. Your reality. Not to argue with them – just so you have it, in your own words.

    Their version: “It wasn’t that big a deal.”
    Your reality: it was, because you’re the one who felt it.

    Their version: “You’re remembering it wrong.”
    Your reality: you were there. You know what you heard.

    You don’t need them to agree with you. That’s the actual shift – not winning the argument, just no longer needing to.

    This week’s practice:

    Think of one moment someone rewrote what happened. Write their version down, plainly. Then write yours, just as plainly, underneath.

    Read both back. Notice which one has more detail. Which one you can actually feel in your body. That’s the one that’s true.

    You don’t owe anyone the version that makes them comfortable. And if you’re ready to have someone in your corner who won’t let you talk yourself out of your own truth either – that’s exactly what I do, and exactly why I can help.

    With love and best wishes always,
    Susy

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , , , ,

    New here? This post is adapted from my weekly newsletter, Rediscovery — sent every Monday to women over 50 finding their way back to themselves. Sign upto get the next one straight to your inbox. I Know What I Heard This week we have the memorial service for my stepdad, and at the same time…

  • Claiming Your Own Peace After 50: Why Keeping Everyone Else’s Peace Isn’t the Same Thing

    This was originally sent to my REDISCOVERY newsletter subscribers. If you’d like letters like this delivered to your inbox every Monday, you can sign up on the side panel.

    How are you? I hope you’re well.

    This week I walked twelve miles in the sunshine – a circular route arranged by the Ramblers. My aim is one long walk somewhere new once a month. Somewhere along the way I got talking to a woman who’d spent decades following her husband’s career around the world. Switzerland, different cities, different schools. And now, at nearly sixty, she’d decided: they’re staying put in the UK, and she’s figuring out who she is and what she wants for herself. I recognised that decision – that feeling of It’s Time.

    This week: claiming your peace.

    Not the peace that exists for other people – the careful words, the managed moods, the going-somewhere-you-didn’t-want-to-go. That’s not real peace. That’s maintenance work.

    Real peace is an internal state — calm, settled, confident in yourself.

    I know what it costs to keep everyone else’s peace. I’ve been far too good at it. And what I’ve learned is this: it doesn’t actually keep the peace. It keeps the status quo. Which is a very different thing.

    And at some point you notice: you’ve been attending to everyone’s peace except your own. And something has to change.

    The good news is that peace isn’t something you find. It’s something you decide. You claim it. You protect it. You come back to it when something pulls you away from it. It’s yours.

    Certain relationships or situations will still disrupt it – that’s just life. The difference is knowing how to notice it, deal with it, and return to yourself. With practice you return to your peace more quickly and for longer.

    Nobody else is responsible for your peace. Nobody is going to hand it to you. And knowing that isn’t sad or hopeless – it’s liberating and empowering because it’s in your hands.

    Peace lives within you when your life is aligned to your values.

    This week’s practice:

    First, notice. When do you adjust yourself – what you say, how you behave, how much space you take up – in response to someone else’s mood or expectations?

    Ask yourself: is this genuine care? Whose peace am I keeping?

    Then, claim your peace. Here are some ways to do that this week:

    • Sit in stillness for five minutes. Close your eyes. Just breathe.
    • Go for a walk with no destination and no distractions – just you.
    • Rest when your body asks for it, without negotiating with yourself first.
    • Notice what disrupts your peace – and notice what helps you return to it.

    Small practices. Real results.

    With love and best wishes always, Susy

    P.S. What does peace actually feel like for you? Hit reply. I’d love to know.

    FREE RESOURCES FOR YOU:

    What Do I Really Want? Your 5-Step Action Plan — for when you’ve lost touch with your own desires

    Get Your Spark Back Guide — small, practical ways to feel like yourself again

    Rediscover Your Values Workbook — get clear on what actually matters to you now

    All on my website: www.susyrosemary.com

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , , , , , , ,

    This was originally sent to my REDISCOVERY newsletter subscribers. If you’d like letters like this delivered to your inbox every Monday, you can sign up on the side panel. How are you? I hope you’re well. This week I walked twelve miles in the sunshine – a circular route arranged by the Ramblers. My aim…

  • Quiet Anger After 50: What Your Body Has Been Trying to Tell You

    This was originally sent to my REDISCOVERY newsletter subscribers. If you’d like letters like this delivered to your inbox every Monday, you can sign up on the side on this page.

    How are you? I hope you’re well. The bluebells are out in the UK and the daffodils are still going – it’s such a pretty time of year. I’ve just booked my first walk with The Ramblers, which feels like exactly the kind of thing I should be doing more of.

    I want to talk about anger today. Not the explosive kind. The quiet kind. The kind that sits just below the surface for years while you get on with things and make it all work well enough.

    I remember sitting in a conversation – nodding, staying calm, being reasonable – while something inside me went flat. It was the realisation that what I wanted wasn’t going to happen, even though I’d clearly expressed how important it was and had been told it was going to happen. I felt betrayed because it became clear that I had been lied to. The anger I felt mattered because it showed me what I knew was important, and the flatness came because my values had not been respected.

    What I didn’t realise was that every time anything similar had happened in the past, I had swallowed it – but that anger had in fact stayed with me.

    It felt like tiredness. But it was unexpressed anger that had nowhere to go.

    I’ve come to understand that anger is information – incredibly helpful information. It tells you when a limit has been crossed, when something that matters to you has been dismissed, when you’ve been carrying something that was never yours to carry.

    We were taught from childhood that anger is unbecoming. Too much. Difficult. But anger – when you listen to it rather than manage it away – points directly at what you value. It says: this matters. This needs to change. I deserve better than this.

    That’s not a problem. That’s a compass.

    This week’s practice:

    Think of something that has made you quietly angry – perhaps something you’ve pushed down, explained away, or decided wasn’t worth mentioning.

    Then ask yourself:

    • What is my anger actually protecting?
    • What does it tell me I value?
    • What would I no longer tolerate if I honoured this feeling?

    You don’t need to address everything at once. One answer. One small step. That step will lead to another.

    With love and best wishes always, Susy

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , ,

    This was originally sent to my REDISCOVERY newsletter subscribers. If you’d like letters like this delivered to your inbox every Monday, you can sign up on the side on this page. How are you? I hope you’re well. The bluebells are out in the UK and the daffodils are still going – it’s such a…

  • Make Time for You (Without the Guilt)

    You know that feeling — work, family, building something for you… and somehow you still end up last on the list.

    Lately I’ve been learning something the hard way:

    If I don’t make time for what matters to me, I lose part of myself.

    And there is no need to feel guilty for making time for yourself.

    Because this is your life. And the years? They pass quickly.

    Last week I almost cancelled my gym membership. I only started at the end of December, and I had that familiar thought loop:

    Am I using it enough?
    Is it worth it?
    It’s not just the one-hour class — it’s the time before and after too.

    And then the verdict arrived, loud and judgey:

    “I should cancel. I don’t have time for this. There are more important things.”

    That word: important.

    As if my wants don’t count as important. Seriously.

    My needs are important.

    I nearly cancelled… but then I stopped and asked myself:

    Why doesn’t this count as important?

    Why is it that when my son needs help, that’s important?
    When someone else asks for my time, that’s important?

    But when I want something — just for me, just because it makes me happy — it’s not?

    So I went to the Pilates class again.

    I laughed at the aches in my arms and legs. I enjoyed the teacher’s jokes. And I took two hours for a one-hour class.

    The work waited.

    And when I came home, I felt lighter. More myself. More able to show up for everything else… because I’d shown up for me first.

    Here’s what we’re never told:

    Making time for yourself isn’t selfish. It’s how you stay whole.

    When you only ever give — when you never refill — you don’t become some saintly superwoman.

    You become depleted.
    Resentful.
    Disconnected from who you are.

    You become someone who exists only in relation to other people’s needs.

    And that’s not sustainable. It’s not even kind — to them or to you.

    Making time for what matters to you isn’t taking away from anyone else.

    It’s making sure you’re still you when you look in the mirror.

    A woman with interests. Wants. Preferences.
    A life beyond being useful.

    Maybe you’ve been doing what I almost did:

    Cancelling the things that matter to you because they feel “less important” than everything else.

    Telling yourself you’ll get to it later. Someday. When there’s more time.

    Except… there’s never more time.

    There’s just now.
    And the choice to make time for yourself.

    This week’s practice

    Block one hour this week for something you want.

    Not something productive.
    Not something for someone else.
    Just something that matters to you.

    • Read a book just for pleasure
    • Go somewhere you’ve wanted to go
    • Spend time on a hobby you’ve been ignoring
    • Do absolutely nothing and call it rest

    Make the time. Protect it.

    Because you, my friend, are worthy of your own time and attention.

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , , , , ,

    You know that feeling — work, family, building something for you… and somehow you still end up last on the list. Lately I’ve been learning something the hard way: If I don’t make time for what matters to me, I lose part of myself. And there is no need to feel guilty for making time…

  • Don’t Wait to Feel Like It: Motivation for Women Over 50

    Starting over at 50 means learning to trust yourself again—even when you don’t feel ready.

    How are you? I hope you’re well.

    This week is about starting something new as a woman over 50.

    I started something new yesterday—I went to the gym and did a Pilates class.

    I did not want to go. It was raining. I was happy doing some work at home. But I do want to feel great. I do want to feel strong.

    So I went. And I’m so glad I did. I felt muscles I didn’t know existed. Everyone was friendly. I felt like part of something positive and progressive.

    Building Confidence in Your 50s: Don’t Wait to Feel Motivated

    Here’s what I learned about motivation for women over 50: Don’t wait to FEEL like you want to do something. Do it anyway.

    I didn’t feel like going at all. But I knew I would feel good afterwards. That’s self-trust for women over 50. That’s knowing: if you do X, you’ll feel Y.

    Starting over at 50 often means not taking the easy option.

    The easy option would have been to stay home and say, “I’ll wait for another day.” It would have been easy to carry on with what I was doing.

    But by going, I became part of something. I was inspired by every single person there—men, women, of all different ages and body shapes.

    Overcoming Resistance: A Practice for Women Over 50

    When you next don’t feel like doing something that you know you actually want to do… do it anyway.

    Beat that voice inside your head that’s discouraging you. Yes, it can be loud.

    Be your own best friend. Do the right thing. One step at a time. One day at a time.

    This is how women over 50 build confidence—not by waiting for motivation, but by trusting yourself enough to take action first.

    Your Turn: Taking Action in Midlife

    What’s one thing you’ve been putting off that you know would make you feel good?

    For women over 50 who are starting over, the secret isn’t feeling ready. It’s trusting yourself enough to begin.

    With love and best wishes always,
    Susy

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , ,

    Starting over at 50 means learning to trust yourself again—even when you don’t feel ready. How are you? I hope you’re well. This week is about starting something new as a woman over 50. I started something new yesterday—I went to the gym and did a Pilates class. I did not want to go. It…

  • Finding Direction in Midlife Motherhood

    As we enter August and this season of finding our compass, I want to start with something that might surprise you: it’s perfectly okay to feel completely lost right now. In a world that demands we always know our next move, admitting you don’t know what you want feels almost rebellious.  And definitely disorganized and not “together”.  And shouldn’t we have it together as midlife mothers?   If not by now, when?

    You know that panicky feeling when someone asks about your five-year plan, and you can barely think past next week.  I used to think this uncertainty meant I was failing at life.  Particularly since my plans rarely went to plan…it seemed that everyone else had some internal GPS that I was clearly missing.

    What you really want is permission to not have all the answers. You want to find your direction without the pressure of having everything figured out immediately. You want to trust that it’s okay to wander while you’re finding your way – that not all those who wander are truly lost.

    I remember sitting in my car after dropping the kids at school one morning, tired but surviving. A friend had asked: “What do you want to do today?” Not what needed to be done, not what others expected – what I wanted. I just wanted to sit still and do nothing, nothing at all.

    It seemed like other mothers had some secret compass that pointed them toward their desires, their dreams, their direction.  I just wanted peace. I didn’t want a direction or a plan in that moment.

    That’s when I learned something life-changing: uncertainty isn’t a character flaw. It’s information. When you don’t know what you want, it often means you’ve been so busy meeting everyone else’s needs that you’ve lost touch with your own internal navigation system.

    The breakthrough came when I stopped trying to figure out what I wanted and started exploring what mattered to me. Instead of asking “What’s my dream?” I began asking “What are my values?” Instead of demanding a destination, I focused on finding my compass.

    Here’s how you can start finding your direction when you feel lost:

    First, identify what you absolutely don’t want. Sometimes our “no” is clearer than our “yes.” Write down three things that drain your energy or make you feel misaligned.

    Second, notice what you value in small moments. When do you feel most like yourself? What situations make you feel energized rather than depleted? What brings a smile to your face? These clues point to your direction today.

    Third, make one small decision this week based purely on what feels right to you, not what you think you should want. Trust your internal compass, even if it’s just choosing which coffee to order and which seat to sit in.

    “Not all those who wander are lost.” – J.R.R. Tolkien

    Don’t worry about the idea that everyone needs you to have direction, to be the steady one, to know the plan.

    You’re allowed to be uncertain about your direction. You’re allowed to take time to figure out what you want. You’re allowed to wander while you find your way. Take that breath. 

    Your internal compass is there – it’s just been buried under years of putting everyone else’s needs first. This isn’t about having all the answers; it’s about trusting yourself enough to explore the questions.

    You matter. Your direction matters. Your journey of discovery matters.

    With love and best wishes, as always,

    Susy x

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    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in

    As we enter August and this season of finding our compass, I want to start with something that might surprise you: it’s perfectly okay to feel completely lost right now. In a world that demands we always know our next move, admitting you don’t know what you want feels almost rebellious.  And definitely disorganized and…