You know what’s crazy? Life is such a trip.
And sometimes, you reach a point—maybe midlife, maybe any age—where you just stop and think:
I don’t know what to do with my life.
We’re told to choose a path when we’re just teenagers—long before our brains are even fully baked. What no one says out loud is how common it is to reach your 40s, 50s, or 60s with more questions than answers. There’s no playbook for this part of life, no neat guide that tells you what to do when certainty slips through your fingers.
You look around and wonder, Is this it? What now? Am I supposed to have it all figured out by now? But what about when you’re 51? What if you still don’t know?
What if you reach this age, with a fully developed brain and decades of experience, and still feel lost on what comes next? What if your dreams feel foggy, your gifts feel tangled, and you’re stuck in a loop of second-guessing everything? What if you know you have talents—but no clear idea how to offer them to the world?
Sometimes I get sick of not knowing. There’s a fire in me that says, You were born for more. Not for money, not for power—but for love, grace, hope, and healing. And the hardest question becomes: How do I get all of that out into the world in a way that truly matters?
Time Goes By So Fast
Time doesn’t slow down for anyone. You blink and suddenly the calendar is a blur of holidays, homework, heartbreak, and healing. Life keeps rushing forward whether you’re ready or not.
In the middle of it all, you fall in love, raise babies, work jobs to keep the lights on, and pour yourself into everyone else’s cup while yours quietly runs dry. And yet, even with a full life, there’s still that tug on your soul—a whisper that maybe there’s something more.
This morning, I woke up with a lump in my throat and asked myself: Where did I get off track? Am I even off track? Or is this exact moment where I’m meant to be?
Honestly? I think I’m right where I’m supposed to be. I raised my babies, and now I get the gift of loving my grandbabies. That’s not a detour. That’s the gift. And because of everything I’ve learned through motherhood and marriage, I finally get to explore how to pour myself back out—this time, on purpose.
The Ache We Don’t Always Admit
What if I wanted to set the world on fire with my strength and courage, but couldn’t find the strength to strike the match? What if I had big dreams once and lost sight of them while I was too busy surviving? One choice—one yes or one no—can shift an entire life. And yet the same question keeps looping in my head: How do I make a difference?
That ache isn’t loud. It doesn’t scream. But it lingers like a shadow at sunset—soft, quiet, and impossible to ignore. We grieve the things we don’t say out loud: the dreams we shelved, the moments we think we missed.
But what if that ache wasn’t a dead-end? What if it was a divine invitation—a whisper that says: There’s still more in you.
What I Know Now (That I Didn’t Before)
Here’s what I know: life is short. And I feel that now more than ever. As I get older, I see my gifts more clearly—but the question remains: how do I use them before time runs out?
I know I love people. I know I love making them laugh. I know I was made to help others feel seen and valued. That has always been true. And yet, I still don’t know the blueprint. I still don’t have the map.
So here I am—writing a blog that makes my heart whisper, “You’re on the right track.” There’s no perfect plan here, just a deep desire to tell the truth, to be heard, to reach out and say: me too. Because if someone out there feels even a flicker of what I’m feeling, maybe we’re not so alone after all.
The truth is, I still don’t know what to do with my life. Not fully. Not perfectly. But maybe that’s okay.
You Don’t Have to Know Yet
I believe vulnerability is beautiful. It’s rare, sacred, and something we desperately need more of. I’ve never had much patience for small talk—give me soul talk any day. Let’s skip the weather updates and get straight to the heart of it.
So if you’re 51—or 31 or 71—and still don’t know what you want to be when you grow up, welcome home. Take off the shame. Put down the pressure. Replace them both with hope.
Stillness is not failure. Searching is not weakness. Not knowing isn’t a red flag—it’s a doorway. Maybe it’s not about money or titles or what the world claps for. Maybe it’s about sitting beside someone you love, not needing words, and knowing you’re safe.
Maybe that’s the point.
What I DO Know (And Maybe You Do Too)
This is what I do know: Love Never Fails. And I thik that might be the greatest gift God gave me—to love without condition, to offer empathy when the world feels cold, and to be someone’s calm in the middle of their storm. That, more than anything else, makes me rich.
So if you’ve lost your way, that’s okay. Just keep going. One small step, then another. You don’t have to figure it all out. Not even at 51. The truth is, if you’ve ever whispered I don’t know what to do with my life, you’re not behind. You’re right on time.💛
If you’re still in the thick of it and need a reminder that failure isn’t the end—it’s just part of the road—go read I Feel Like a Failure.
It’s raw, real, and proof that you’re not the only one still figuring out what to do when that nagging question, “I don’t know what to do with my life,” keeps showing up.
Note from Jen:
If this post hit something tender in you—even just a little—I’d love to hear your story. 💬
Whether you’re 51 or anywhere on the map of figuring-it-out, you’re not alone in this messy middle.
Drop a comment below and share where you’re at—starting over, feeling stuck, or simply searching for purpose.
This is a judgment-free, soul-honoring space.
So pull up a chair. I’m listening. And I’m cheering you on. Always remember, You Are a Badass💛✨
If the quiet moments have hit harder than you expected, especially after the kids moved out, you’re not alone. I wrote more about that shift in The Silence After Kids Move Out: What No One Talks About in the Empty Nest — it’s raw, real, and might give you a little peace in the pause.
Brené Brown on Vulnerability
When I talk about loving soul talk over small talk, Brené Brown is one of the voices that shows me why it matters. With decades of experience studying courage, shame, and belonging, she’s built a body of work that keeps pointing us back to the same truth: vulnerability is not weakness.
In her famous TED talk on vulnerability, she reminds us that we live in a world that’s quick to numb feelings, chase perfection, and pretend struggle isn’t part of the deal. But Brené flips that script. She says our real job isn’t to keep life polished or to raise kids who never stumble—it’s to look at ourselves and each other and say: “You’re imperfect, you’re wired for struggle, and you are still worthy of love and belonging.”
That truth hits me every time. Vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s the doorway to connection. And when you stop numbing and start leaning into it, you don’t just survive—you live with more meaning.
🔗 You can read more about Brené’s talk on Farnam Street.