WTFourty

I didn’t glide into 40—I crashed into it.
And the first thing I whispered to myself was exactly that:
WTFourty… what is this?

This wasn’t the version of 40 I imagined.
I thought it would feel lighter… softer… more aligned.
I thought I’d finally feel like a woman who understood her body, her needs, her boundaries, her peace.

Instead, I walked into 40 and met a version of myself I didn’t recognize.

My body felt foreign.
My emotions lived at the surface.
My anger was louder.
My anxiety had its own pulse.
My health shifted in ways that scared me.
My routines—my work, my businesses, the parts of my life I used to manage with ease—felt heavy, unorganized, and out of tune.

It was like the woman I had been for years suddenly didn’t fit anymore…
and the woman I was becoming hadn’t fully arrived.

So there I was, sitting between who I used to be and who I wasn’t ready to meet yet.

And the truth?
I wanted to run.
Not a cute getaway. Not a “self-care trip.”
No—
I wanted to disappear to an island and just… breathe without being pulled, needed, or expected to “figure it out.”

I wanted distance from all of it—
the responsibilities, the noise, the emotions, the expectations.
But mostly…
I wanted distance from myself.

The version of me that kept surviving when she should have rested.
The version that kept performing strength instead of honoring truth.
The version that stayed available to everyone except her own heart.

WTFourty showed me things I had been ignoring for years:

• When you live in constant overdrive, your body will eventually pull the brakes.
• When you don’t honor your emotions, they will demand to be felt.
• When you don’t make space for yourself, your life will force the space open.
• When you don’t slow down, life will slow you down.

Forty pulled me apart so I could finally meet the parts I kept pushing to the background.
It exposed the exhaustion I normalized.
It revealed the wounds I thought I’d healed.
It stripped away the roles I hid behind.
It demanded truth… not performance.

It wasn’t pretty.
It wasn’t inspirational.
It wasn’t flowy or free.
It was a mirror I didn’t ask for…
but desperately needed.

And somewhere between the unraveling and the rebuilding, I finally understood:

Forty wasn’t here to destroy me.
It was here to introduce me to the woman who would no longer run from herself.

The woman ready to stop performing and start living.
The woman who chooses peace without guilt.
The woman who honors her body, her limits, her softness, her rest.
The woman who doesn’t disappear—
she reveals herself.

So yes…
This season has been a WTFourty experience.
But maybe that’s the point.
Maybe the “WTF” moments are the ones that finally teach you who you truly are.

And this time…
I’m not running.
I’m rising.