50 and Wise (ish)
In case you hadn’t heard (which would be weird as I’ve been telling everyone from taxi drivers to people I randomly meet in cafes), I’ve just turned 50 — which should mean I’ve learnt a few things. Surely. I mean, I’ve seen a lot of life and made a whole lot of mistakes — I know it’s not just me — so don’t be smug!
When I thought about my big life lessons, I thought it’s a bit bloody cliché… it’s hard to make wisdom sound cool. The words, let’s face it, are a bit cringe. But, bear with me, because no matter how naff it might sound, these things do make a difference to my life. If I’d only known when I was 25 — except if I had read this at 25, I would have thought ‘bore off’. So this piece is not evangelical, or trying to persuade younger generations — it’s simply a nod to my middle-aged peers who’ve shared similar insights with me.
So, here are seven things I now know to be true for me. I’ve earned this knowledge — basically by not being this wise, repeatedly… even today. In fact, just now 🙄.
1. Life happens with or without you
When my grandmother died in 2004, I remember feeling stunned that people just carried on with their lives. They went to work, went shopping, watched telly and laughed - what?! I was so shocked — how dare they! Didn’t they know the world had imploded? But I realised pretty quickly it was just *my* world. My family’s world.
This became an important leveller and lesson for the greatest losses I would still face some time later — a realisation that the world turns with or without you. I know that sounds bleaker than I mean it to, but life moves. That’s the truth. It doesn’t stop because of you. And oddly, I now find that deeply comforting. It means we’re part of something bigger — not the centre of everything, but also not isolated in our pain. People spin in and out of stuff, like the world spins and time is beyond us all. The world won’t pause for us, but we also don’t walk through it alone.
‘The world spins. We stumble on. It is enough.’ — Colum McCann
2. People will decide if they like you or not – don’t chase the indifferent
I’ve only properly grasped this in recent years. Being disliked is part of living – especially when you’re a woman, and especially when you’re unapologetically visible. I’ve been undermined, eye-rolled, called ‘too much’ and ‘not enough’ in the same sentence by the same person. Not just me, though — every one of us knows someone who thinks we’re a bit dull. Worst case? They actively dislike you. I know — shock horror — you’re not everyone’s cup of tea.
And yet, I spent years trying to win people over. As if being liked was some kind of KPI. But here’s the uncomfortable truth: it’s fine if people don’t like you. It’s not failure. And it’s not your job to soften your edges so someone else can feel comfortable. This is not the same as being a dick though — so don’t confuse the two. I’m talking intentional authenticity.
People pleasing does no one any favours. It can leave you drained and ashamed. And frankly, no one is always pleased at the hands of someone else anyway — do you know someone who makes you happy 24/7? Even people we love and adore get on our nerves.
‘I am not interested in shrinking myself to become digestible.’ — Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
3. Ask for help. I mean it.
I am a pathological help avoider. Truly. I’m neurodiverse, a hyper-independent feminist, and working-class — the holy trinity of ‘I’ll do it myself, thanks.’ The thing is: I need quite a lot of help. In the end, the result is often the same — isolation and fear masquerading as strength. And that’s the trap. Systems of oppression love the myth of individual resilience. Help avoiders are stuck in a loop — it’s the behaviour of people who just survive. To thrive, one has to look to the collective.
It’s a complex cultural phenomenon. Asking for help is somehow seen as weak — even shameful. But imagine if we saw help-seeking as a strength? Also, helping is not always reciprocal. Sometimes I need more help than I can give. Be honest about that if you can.
You know that saying ‘it takes a village to raise a child’? I just think it takes a village to raise people.
4. Don’t be a dick
I love clarity. I believe in straight talking. But there’s a line – and if you’re not careful, being ‘honest’ turns into being sharp, dismissive, or performatively righteous. Radical candour is not my bag, mostly because I don’t think most people can be trusted to execute this model of communication without humiliating their victim.
It’s easy to call people out and believe me, I’m good at it, I’m from N.London and frankly we are sooo good at the put down, but, it’s truthfully harder — and more radical — to call people in. Tone is power.
Sara Ahmed reminds us that feminism isn't always about making people feel comfortable — but it *is* about creating the conditions for truth and care to coexist.
Oh, and learn to say sorry when you *are* a dick. I’ve just had the chance to apologise to a wonderful stranger who I had been rude to in a moment of high stress. She was gracious and kind. I was so relieved. When you are sincerely sorry — it makes a difference.
That said, if you tailgate me outside Tesco – I *am* going to give you the finger. Even intersectional feminism has its limits.
‘What we say matters. How we say it matters more.’ — bell hooks
5. Stay curious – it’s a radical act
Getting older makes you more confident about what you know — but that confidence can tip into entitlement and arrogance fast. We’ve all seen it: the person who thinks their lived experience is the only valid one. The leader who says ‘I’ve been doing this for 30 years’ as a way of shutting down new perspectives. But curiosity is an act of humility. And humility is the gateway to justice.
Mary Beard reminds us that women in public life are still expected to be visible but not vocal. Curiosity — especially in public, especially when it disrupts the narrative — is resistance.
‘Being a woman in public life is still very much an act of resistance. Keep asking questions.’ — Mary Beard
6. Choose your battles – or you’ll spend your life at war
I struggle not to challenge everything I disagree with. I’m one of those people who will draw silence around a dinner party table by reminding everyone of their privilege. Once I’ve seen or heard something bloody ridiculous, I can’t unknow it — and it eats away at me. I can feel like I’ve betrayed the cause and the integrity I’ve given my life to. I know — ego or what?!
But I’ve learnt this: not everything is mine to fix. And fighting all the time, for everything, burns out the people who are actually trying to build something better. It’s hard work. And sometimes I have to turn a blind eye to survive. I saw a quote once that said something like - you don’t have to attend every fight you’re invited to!
‘You can’t fix everything. And sometimes, trying to is how you lose yourself.’ — Zadie Smith (energy, not direct quote)
7. Say yes to things
If you overthink an opportunity, it stops being an opportunity and starts looking like a risk. And once your brain decides something is dangerous, your body shuts it down. I’ve said no to things because I didn’t feel ready, or I couldn’t imagine myself there. But patriarchy trains women to believe we need more time, more qualifications, more certainty. Enough. Say yes.
I said yes to an invitation to be a passenger on the You Me Bum Bum Train before Christmas. It was a wild card for me because the blurb was mysterious - all I knew was that it was a fully immersive experience unlike anything I had ever heard of. I did it, it was life changing and I am grateful for what it taught me. Sadly I can’t share with you what it is exactly, it’s a secret so that people can truly give themselves up to it - soz - but know it’s bloody next level!
Not every yes will change your life obviously. But every no that comes from fear will shrink lives. You don’t know what you are capable of until you rip up your comfort playbook and opt for something a bit more spicy. But, if you ask me to go on a cruise, I’m going to say no. That’s one opportunity you can keep — the ocean is scary, man!
‘Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?’ — Mary Oliver
Look, I haven’t figured it all out. I’m still learning. Still getting it wrong. Still trying to show up with care, with fire, and with the right kind of rage. But if I’ve learnt anything worth sharing in fifty years, it’s this:
📣 Don’t wait to be ready. Don’t waste time trying to be liked. Ask for help. Be decent. Stay curious. Pick your battles. Say yes. And when you mess it up – which you will – start again. That’s not failure. That’s feminism. That’s where the good stuff lives. That’s where *you* live.
🤖 AI helped me right this blog post, my second brain is called Dr Nova Sage (I named her, cool, I know), however, the structure, tone, ideas, content creation/framing are mine. Images either my own or created based on my creative prompts and direction.