LIFE & MOTHERHOOD COACH FOR MAMAS IN MIDLIFE

Tag: life after 50

  • What Do You Actually Want? The Question Women Over 50 Stop Asking Themselves

    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 here on the side panel.

    How are you? I hope you’re well. It was big boy’s 21st birthday yesterday. We had lunch together — his dad and partner, their little one, my little one, one granny, one grandpa, and me. A separated family, still showing up together. There’s something quietly good about that. I’m so proud of my three children.

    I want to tell you about a question I asked myself a few years ago. And I’m asking it again today.

    It’s a question that appeared one morning, quietly, while I was standing at the kitchen sink.

    What do I actually want?

    What do I, Susy, actually want for the rest of my life?

    I have ideas. Vague but within my grasp.

    Life happens. Change happens — to you, or to others in ways that affect you. But underneath all of it, the question remains. What do I want? What do you want? Not for everyone else. For you.

    Here’s what I’ve learned before and I’m learning again.

    Identifying what you want isn’t selfish — it’s exciting. It’s an absolute necessity for your everyday life. You can’t build a life you love without knowing what that looks like. You can’t move forward without a direction.

    We’ve been needed — we still are needed. And there’s room for our own unique life too. It’s knowing what gives you that spark. It’s trying something new. It’s making headway toward that dream — once it’s formed, once you know what it actually is.

    The wanting is still there.

    I know this because the moment I asked myself the question — what do I actually want? — things started coming. Slowly at first. Then more clearly. France. Walking in the mountains. Writing. Building something that was mine, that I believe in. More honesty. More peace. More music. More adventure too. That’s the dream that is forming at the moment.

    It’s not that I’d forgotten what I wanted. It’s that life evolves. It changes, and when you do live one dream, you’re ready for the next one to take shape. And oh, that’s exciting. You’ve got to let yourself dream a little to let it all happen. You’ve got to give yourself that space.

    This week’s practice:

    Sit somewhere quiet – even five minutes – and ask yourself honestly:

    • What really is my dream? Without limits?
    • What have I kept putting off until “later”?
    • What do I want more of?

    Don’t edit your answers before you write them. Don’t make them reasonable. Just let them be true. Have fun with it.

    That list is yours. Let it evolve.

    If reading this stirred something — if that question landed somewhere — that’s the starting point. That’s exactly where we begin in coaching. Six sessions, just us, working through what you actually want and what’s been getting in the way. £397. If it feels right, just hit reply.

    Not ready for that yet? The REDISCOVERY Workbook lets you start in your own time, at your own pace. £27. [Details here.]

    With love and best wishes always, Susy

    P.S. What’s one thing you want that you feel excited about? Hit reply – I read every single one. And if your answer surprises you, that’s often where we start.

    💌 If this resonated with you, it might resonate with someone you know. Feel free to forward it.

    —

    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 here on the side panel. How are you? I hope you’re well. It was big boy’s 21st birthday yesterday. We had lunch together — his dad and partner, their little…

  • Who Were You Five Years Ago? A Question Every Woman Over 50 Should Ask

    I’ve been on a few night shifts this week — there’s something about working at 4am that makes you see your life very clearly.

    It got me thinking.

    Who were you five years ago?

    What did you put up with that you wouldn’t now? What did you believe about yourself that has quietly shifted? What did you call normal that now makes you pause?

    I ask because I think we wildly underestimate how much we’ve changed. We’re so focused on who we’re trying to become that we forget to notice who we’ve already become.

    Five years ago, I was waking at 4am rehearsing conversations. Replaying things people had said – or hadn’t said. Working out how to phrase something so it wouldn’t cause a problem. Calculating whether my needs were reasonable before I’d even expressed them.

    A constant internal negotiation. An editing of myself before I spoke.

    I don’t do that anymore. Not never – some mornings still catch me. But mostly: I notice when I’m doing it, and I stop. That gap between the impulse and the action – that’s where I live now. Along with a lot more compassion for myself too.

    That didn’t happen in one single lightbulb moment. It happened through a lot of small, uncomfortable choices. Saying something true when it would have been easier to stay quiet. Choosing not to explain myself when I didn’t owe an explanation. Starting REDISCOVERY on a night shift break and thinking: this is real, and I’m going to keep going.

    The Maternal Self in Motion framework – which I studied as part of my Motherhood Studies certification – describes our identity as a train journey. Not a fixed destination. A journey, with tracks and stations and a carriage that carries everything you’ve been through.

    The stations mark the befores and afters. And in our 50s, most of us have been through stations that changed everything. The loss of a parent. The end of a relationship. Children becoming adults. Relocation. The slow, clarifying recognition that the life you’ve been living was assembled partly for other people.

    My mum died in September 2025. I was with her for twelve days in hospital, and then she was gone. It was the saddest thing that has ever happened to me – and also, strangely, one of the most clarifying. She was genuinely warm, kind, and caring. She made everyone feel seen. And sitting with her in those last days, I thought: that’s what I want. Not success or recognition or proving anything. I want to be that real.

    I got back on the train different.

    You have too.

    Look at yourself clearly – not critically, but clearly. See the woman who has been through stations and kept going. Who has learned things the hard way and applied them anyway. Who is, right now, more herself than she has ever been.

    This week’s practice:

    Think of one thing you’ve said or done in the last six months that the woman you were five years ago would not have done.

    One moment where you held your ground. Told the truth. Chose yourself.

    Didn’t apologise for existing.

    Write it down in one specific sentence. Not “I’ve been setting more boundaries.” Something real: “I started something without asking anyone’s permission.”

    Then read it back and say: I did that. That was me.

    Because it was. And the woman who did that is still here, still building, still becoming.

    That’s the beginning.

    With love and best wishes always,
    Susy 

    —

    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , ,

    I’ve been on a few night shifts this week — there’s something about working at 4am that makes you see your life very clearly. It got me thinking. Who were you five years ago? What did you put up with that you wouldn’t now? What did you believe about yourself that has quietly shifted? What…

  • You Don’t Need Permission To Want What You Want (Women Over 50)

    We’re here again focusing on living for you, rediscovering you, your values, your wishes, your dreams. Because this is your own unique life, precious yet vulnerable.

    So let’s check by asking the question – when did you last want something just for you – without explaining it away?

    Not for your children. Not because it would make you a better mother, partner, colleague, friend or because the classic “it’s good for you”. Just something you wanted because you wanted it for no particular reason other than it makes you happy.

    For many of us, that question can land awkwardly. Because wanting things for ourselves has felt – for a very long time – like something that needs to be justified first.

    I spent years doing it. The qualification always arrived before the desire had even finished forming.

    Obviously I’m grateful, but… It’s probably silly, but… I know I should be content with, but…

    But I want more, and I want something else…eek…

    There was a period in my life when I wanted, more than almost anything, to live in France. Green shutters. Slow mornings. A completely different pace. It felt self-indulgent even to think it. I had responsibilities. Children. A life already assembled. Who was I to want something so different?

    And yet the wanting didn’t go away. It just sat there, quietly festering for years.

    We had a window of opportunity. I knew if we didn’t try, we never would. So we went.

    Some people thought we were ungrateful. Selfish. Downright crazy.

    We weren’t. We were just choosing something for ourselves – and that, apparently, still makes people very uncomfortable.

    Here’s what my Motherhood Studies training gave me language for: that guilt – the one that arrives the moment you want something for yourself – isn’t personal. It’s cultural. The Social Conditioning Pyramid maps exactly how girls are taught from childhood to place their needs last. To earn the right to be considered. To frame their desires in terms of how they serve others first.

    By the time we’re in our 50s, the conditioning runs so deep we don’t even notice it operating. We just feel the guilt, assume it means we’re wrong, and quietly put the want away.  And with that our confidence lessens too.

    But guilt isn’t evidence that you want too much.

    It’s evidence that you were taught to want less. And express less.

    France didn’t last – Charlie needed home, and we came back. But we went. We chose it. And even in going and returning, I learned something I couldn’t have learned any other way: that choosing something for myself, even imperfectly, even temporarily, was possible.  And I loved it too and I’m so, so glad we went.  It’s no longer festering there in my mind and we have made so many happy and funny memories.

    Your wants are not selfishness to suppress. They’re not problems to manage. They’re information – about who you are, what your life could look like, what you’ve been quietly longing for while you kept everyone else’s peace.

    You don’t need permission to want what you want.

    But if it helps to hear it said plainly: you’re allowed.

    This week’s practice:

    Write down three things you want. Not what you should want – what you actually want. Private, specific, yours.

    Then read each one back out loud. Not in your head. Out loud.

    Notice which one you almost whispered. Which one made you glance at the door. Which one felt almost embarrassing to say.

    That’s the one with the most power in it.

    You don’t have to show this to anyone. But you do have to hear yourself say it.  You have to give yourself permission.

    You are your own unique person that is here to grow and truly be.

    With love and best wishes always,
    Susy 

    —

    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , ,

    We’re here again focusing on living for you, rediscovering you, your values, your wishes, your dreams. Because this is your own unique life, precious yet vulnerable. So let’s check by asking the question – when did you last want something just for you – without explaining it away? Not for your children. Not because it would make…

  • What To Do When You Have Nothing To Do (For Women Over 50)

    I’ve been thinking about what to do when you have nothing to do.

    That sounds like it should be simple. A free afternoon. No one needing anything. Nowhere to be. Just: time.

    I stood in my kitchen last week and felt it – that strange, uncomfortable blankness. And within about three minutes, I was already reaching for something useful. Tidying. Planning. Sorting the car out. Drafting a newsletter.

    The pull was automatic. Almost like a reflex.

    I stopped myself. But it took effort.

    Because for most of our lives, being needed was the structure. Work, children, parents, partners, problems. There was always something. And we were always the ones holding it together.

    Rest wasn’t really rest. It was recovery before the next round.

    My mum was different. She knew how to simply be. She’d make a cup of tea, sit by the window, and read her book. Watch the birds come into the garden. Go and see a friend just to have a proper chat – not to solve anything, not to help with anything. Just to be together, chat, laugh.

    She wasn’t anxious. She was at peace.

    I used to watch her and not quite understand it. Now I think she had something I’m still learning.

    Since she died, I’ve been practising. Sitting with a coffee without reaching for my phone. Meeting a friend and having that chat and laughing – not multitasking in my head. I’ve just finished a wonderful book by Rory Stewart and I have my next one waiting. I’m hoping to start it today.

    It’s harder than it sounds. Especially when you’ve been needed for so long that stillness feels suspicious. Almost not allowed. Like you should be doing something.

    But here’s what I’m coming to understand: reconnecting with yourself doesn’t happen in a dramatic moment. It happens in small, quiet experiments. An afternoon with no agenda. A walk with no destination. A morning when you let things be slow.

    You have to practise wanting things again.

    It’s a skill. And it’s one we can absolutely rebuild.

    It starts with one honest question:

    What do I actually feel like doing right now – one thing just for me?

    This week’s practice:

    Schedule two hours for yourself this week. Put it in your diary right now, before you read another word.

    When those two hours arrive:

    • Do not clean.
    • Do not plan.
    • Do not improve anything.

    Just notice what happens in your body when you stop being useful. Notice the pull toward productivity. Notice what stillness actually feels like for you.

    Then write one sentence: How do I feel when I stop?

    Let’s do this.  Everyday, living our own lives.

    With love and best wishes always,
    Susy 

    —

    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , ,

    I’ve been thinking about what to do when you have nothing to do. That sounds like it should be simple. A free afternoon. No one needing anything. Nowhere to be. Just: time. I stood in my kitchen last week and felt it – that strange, uncomfortable blankness. And within about three minutes, I was already…

  • Your Spark Isn’t Gone — It’s Just Been Waiting

    Have you been feeling a little flat lately?

    Not depressed. Not broken. Just… a bit grey.

    Going through the motions. Doing what needs doing. Showing up for everyone else. But somewhere along the way, you stopped feeling that flicker — that sense of aliveness that used to be yours.

    I’ve been reflecting on this month’s theme: rediscovery. Reconnecting with what lights us up, with what makes each of us unique.

    And here’s what I want you to know before you read another word:

    Your spark isn’t gone. It’s just been a little lost, buried under years of looking after everything and everyone else.

    You can get it back. Every day, in some way, you can have your unique spark again.

    When the Years Just Passed

    A few years ago, I went through a period where I felt completely flat.

    I’d wake up. Go to my nursing shift. Come home. Sort everything. Do what needed doing. Repeat.

    Nothing was bad. But nothing excited me either. The years seemed to be just passing.

    The spark was there — I know that now. It was just hidden under years of putting everyone else first. Of being responsible, reliable, needed. Of doing what had to be done.

    I just couldn’t feel it anymore. And I knew I needed it back.

    How the Spark Came Back — In Small Moments

    With one simple shift in awareness — I wanted my spark back — I started to seek it out. And it returned in small, almost magical moments.

    I laughed at something silly my son said. I felt it.

    I sat with my daughter and really listened — no interrupting, no rushing. Just listened, then offered a few thoughts at the end. We connected. The spark was there.

    One morning I woke up genuinely looking forward to something I’d planned. That feeling of anticipation. The butterflies.

    Moments of aliveness.

    My spark wasn’t gone. It was waiting for me to notice it. Waiting for me to make space for it. Waiting for me to stop prioritising everything else long enough to remember: I’m allowed to want things just for me.

    Your Spark Is Still There Too

    We all have our unique spark. It’s what makes you, you.

    Under all the years of being who everyone needed you to be. Under all the times you said “I’m fine” when you weren’t. It’s still there.

    You don’t have to dig up every flicker at once. You don’t need a complete life transformation. You don’t have to quit your job and move to Italy — though if that’s your spark, I won’t stop you.

    Start smaller. Start with noticing.

    Notice the moments when you feel a little more alive. A little more yourself. When something makes you laugh, or pulls your attention, or creates that small bubble of anticipation in your chest.

    That’s your spark. It never left.

    This Week’s Practice

    Do one thing this week that makes you feel alive. Something that makes you feel like you.

    • Something that excites you
    • Something you’ve been putting off
    • Something that brings that small flicker back

    Notice it when it comes. That’s your spark. You’re back. And you’re on a wonderful journey of rediscovery.

    With love and best wishes always, Susy

    P.S. When did you last feel your spark? What were you doing? Leave a comment — I’d love to hear it.

    —

    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in , , , ,

    Have you been feeling a little flat lately? Not depressed. Not broken. Just… a bit grey. Going through the motions. Doing what needs doing. Showing up for everyone else. But somewhere along the way, you stopped feeling that flicker — that sense of aliveness that used to be yours. I’ve been reflecting on this month’s…

  • You Don’t Have to Be Loud to Be Big: Finding Your Quiet Power After 50

    How are you? I hope you’re doing well.

    I’ve been thinking about what makes people big.

    Some people seem so big – they’re loud, take up all the space. Sometimes I want to say, “Hold your horses, we don’t all need to hear all this.”

    But I’ve realised you don’t have to be loud to be big.

    The Power of Being Quietly Big

    I’m not a loud person. I’m actually quite small and quite quiet. But I KNOW what’s right and what’s wrong. I know what I’ll tolerate and what I won’t tolerate anymore.

    And that makes me quietly big.

    I’m not tolerating being dismissed. I’m not tolerating being put down. I’m not tolerating being treated differently just because I’m a mum, a woman, and now a woman over 50.

    I’m done with that.

    What Quiet Confidence Really Means

    You don’t have to be loud to be big. You can be quietly confident and calm in knowing what you want and what’s right according to YOUR values.

    That can create waves. Maybe even storms.

    But the calm water, the peace, comes again because you’re being true to yourself. Your peace comes because you’re being authentically you.

    I’m not saying it’s easy. It’s actually hard, especially when it doesn’t suit the people around you.

    But quiet confidence? That’s real power.

    And if you know someone who acts BIG, perhaps they aren’t so big after all…

    Your Turn: What Won’t You Tolerate Anymore?

    What’s one thing you don’t tolerate any more? I’d love to hear from you.

    Ready to go deeper?

    If you’re tired of waiting and are ready to rediscover the true you, I’d love to support you with 1:1 confidential coaching

    —

    by

    Susy Rosemary
    in ,

    How are you? I hope you’re doing well. I’ve been thinking about what makes people big. Some people seem so big – they’re loud, take up all the space. Sometimes I want to say, “Hold your horses, we don’t all need to hear all this.” But I’ve realised you don’t have to be loud to…