Starting Over At 50: An Honest Look At A Midlife Reinvention

That’s me. An image of what I looked like the day I posted this article. No makeup. No attempt to fix my hair. Wearing the exact outfit I’d be in if you stopped by for an unplanned visit. This is my National Geographic introduction, an up close and personal view of a midlife woman in the wild. An introduction that screams, “Hello, everyone! I’m S. Verrall. Starting over at 50 is hard.”

Although, Glennon Doyle has assured me I can do hard things.

About My Current Situation (As Pictured Above):

I sit in the basement of my parents’ home on the cement floor; my belongings packed up in boxes behind me. Single. Childless. Obese. Recently stepping away from a career I’ve had most of my adult life. Recently selling a tiny condo I’ve owned for 20 years; a home that would be beyond my financial reach if I were to buy it in today’s housing market. In any case, I’m a homeless middle-aged woman with a metaphorical warehouse full of failed goals; gutted to the core with the realization I have no hopes and dreams for the second part of my life.

“Who will be there for me when I get older,” I often wonder. “How will I survive? How will I take care of myself if I get sick?”

One look in the mirror compounds my fear of the future even further, a future physically and symbolically measured on this day in pounds. Physical health. Mental health. Self-care health. Social health. Environmental health. Career health. Financial health. All the “healths” are pushing down on me with more weight than my structures can bear. Joint pain. Swelling. Heartache. Headaches. Anxiety and depression are the new normal. Wellness a distant memory.

As I wipe the sweat from my ungroomed unibrow, I think to myself, “I need to do better. Life isn’t supposed to be this way. I need to commit to a YEAR OF HEALTH before it’s too late.”

The One Year Anniversary Of Shit’s Creek

“Ewe.” That’s what David from Schitt’s Creek would’ve said had he been at my condo on September 17^th, 2022.

First came bubbling sounds in the toilet. Then loud noises echoed in the bathtub plumbing. Before I could wrap my head around what was happening, sewage overflowed from the toilet bowl and burst from the bathtub drain.

A sewage lake formed on my bathroom floor—aka—Poo Lake.

Eventually Poo Lake turned into a river or creek spreading across the entire ground surface of my home. Shit’s Creek, as I now call it, became an unexpected and unwelcomed UNKNOWN in my life.

For the record, I don’t like unknowns. They’re typically sources of heartbreak for me. Although, in this instance it would be many things. That being said, I wasn’t aware of anything other than heartbreak in this moment. All I could see was shit hitting the fan. Like—literally—there was shit on the box fan.  

After the shut-off valve proved useless and a hysterical crying/sobbing session on the phone with my parents finished, I transitioned into what might best be described as SAFETY MODE.

Sitting on my bed as though it were a boat in a swamp, I felt hollow and numb. The feelings, emotions and thoughts that make me—me—packed their bags and left the building. Only the most primal aspects of brain functioning remained.

Unknown –> Safety Mode

I didn’t have a plan. Didn’t think. Instead, I slid off the bed with my flip-flops on and picked up my cat standing ankle deep in sewage.

“Cat in car.” Not sure if those words were my own thoughts or a strange voice in my head. What’ev. It didn’t matter. I carried my cat to the car, then turned around like a zombie to retrieve my other cat.

When both cats were in the car I heard, “Cat needs.”

Again, I returned to Shit’s Creek which had turned into the Great Poo Lake and gathered food, water and litter for the fur babies. I basically turned my car into a giant cat crate, creating a safe space for the kitties to be while I sorted shit out. Again—like—literally sorting shit out.

It was as though safety mode, or zombie head, came equipped with brain software capable of gathering surrounding data and putting it in a prioritized list of importance. I didn’t think. I just listened for words.

• “Cat in car.”
• “Cat needs.”
• “Call maintenance (condo).”
• “Call insurance.”
• “Call work.”

Eventually neighbors, my elderly parents and the condo’s security/maintenance team began gathering to see what all the fuss was about. In spite of it all, my zombie brain software continued to send messages:

• “Smile.”
• “Make jokes.”
• “Appear calm.”

I smiled and laughed as though Shit’s Creek was a typical Saturday morning. In other words, I became an actress. I pretended humanness still existed inside me despite feeling like nothing more than an empty shell.

“Everything happens for a reason,” I told everyone, knowing it was a lie. “I’m sure we’ll find a silver lining in here somewhere.”

Now, a year after Shit’s Creek exploded onto the scene, there’s a chance I might not have been lying after all.

Before Shit’s Creek: When I Still Sorta Had A Paddle

Prior to September 17^th, 2022, I had pondered the idea of a different life. Unfortunately, comfort zones and excuses were controlling the reins on my decision making. In short, starting over at 50 did not appeal to the comfort zone driver of my excuse’mobile.

I won’t go into lengthy detail. I don’t want to distract from the flow of the story. However, it’s important to note my life was comfortable but not ideal before Shit’s Creek. There were things I wanted, but they seemed out of my reach. In other words, there were things I wanted but I couldn’t logically figure out how to incorporate them into my life without causing major havoc on the boundaries my current comfort zone resided in. Things like:

• Living closer to my aging parents.
• Owning a house so I’d no longer have to share walls with noisy neighbors.
• Discovering ways to make money less toxic in my life.
• Finding a great friendship and/or loving partner.
• Honoring the discomfort in my heart, a heart pleading with me to move beyond the classroom walls and start doing what I was put here on Earth to do (whatever that is/was?).
• Committing to my dream of having my own blog and/or helpful online resource for those experiencing struggles like mine.

In a nutshell, there were many things I wanted for my life, but I kept smothering those wants with excuses in an attempt to silence them. I thought if I could shove them down and bury them, I wouldn’t desire those wants anymore.

I’d often tell myself things like:

“You’re not being grateful enough for what you already have. Or maybe you’re not living in the present moment enough? I don’t know! You’re doing something wrong! You have a comfortable life. Why isn’t that enough? Why can’t you just appreciate the fact you’re already blessed?”

Days Following The Shit’s Creek Debacle

Again, I won’t go into lengthy details with this part of the story either. Although fighting for months with the insurance company and home owner’s association resulted in emotional destruction and a crushed soul, the retelling of legal battles makes for a boring read.  Instead, I’ll nutshell the outcomes:

• I would not have a home for 9 months.
• Everything I owned was packed in boxes and put in storage.
• Choice: Motel 6 (with 2 cats) or parents’ basement? Those were my choices for shelter. Since money was tight and my spirit shattered, I opted for the basement.
• The drive from my parents’ home to my job took 2 hours (each way). Therefore, I made the heart crushing decision to quit.
• Without a job, I lost medical and dental insurance.
• Fun note: over the next 365 days following Shit’s Creek, school districts statewide made HUGE staffing cuts in an effort to balance school budgets. For me this translated as: To be eligible for employment in a school, only those on a seniority list due to layoffs will be considered. If you quit: you screwed.
• With no income or job prospects, I had to sell my newly renovated condo in May 2023.
• As to be expected, mental and physical health went into a rapid decline.
• I accepted a part-time, barely above minimum wage job to keep my head above financial waters until I developed a plan to rebuild my life.

In conclusion: I’m the big, fat, unemployed, middle-aged, crazy cat lady loser who moved back into her parents’ basement. Most days I try to be much gentler with the descriptions I use to describe my current situation, but the latter sentence gets straight to the point.

Am I a prime candidate for a Starting Over at 50 Reinvention? You’re damn right I am.

Pause For An Important Announcement

[Press pause]

Let me take a moment to load my silver platter with stacks of privilege so I can serve it back to myself.

I get it. I have supportive parents and a career that paid enough so I could put a bit of money aside for moments like this. Despite being homeless and jobless, I’m not sleeping on the street. I have a safety net to fall into. Savings and safety nets give people more choices. I know my silver platter is loaded up with choices other people in my situation don’t have.

Trust me, I’ve often wondered how things would’ve been different had I used up my savings and chosen to live in that Motel 6 for 9 months. Although there’s no way to know for sure, I predict my life would’ve continued down the same safe and secure path I’ve always traveled on. You know—that comfort zone driver pulling the reigns on my decisions as we cruised around SnoozeTown in the excuse’mobile?

In any case, it’s clear now the ONLY WAY out of SnoozeTown for me was a SIMULTANEOUS loss of home, health, career, hope and identity. I suppose the Universe/God/Whatever knows exactly what They’re doing—but, damn—They didn’t have to smash my metaphorical kneecaps so hard.

[Press play]

Back To September 2023: Am I Lost, Or Is This Just An Unfamiliar Path?

It’s now September 2023, a year after Shit’s Creek. For the last 365 days I’ve been holding on by a thread as I attempt to piece together a plan to reinvent my life in the midlife years. I’m not going to lie. It’s been hard, humbling and terrifying. As a woman in her perimenopausal era, there are times when I’m not sure if I’m mentally weak, hormonally unbalanced or on the verge of a huge breakthrough. Technically, on most days, it’s probably all three.

“There’s a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line.” (Oscar Levant)

I’ve felt the essence of Oscar’s words lately. The genius part I don’t fully identify with. However, the part about an invisible line between craziness and Universal Knowing (aka genius) hits hard.

Note: my definition for Universal Knowing “points in the direction of” an idea appearing in the mind that feels less like one’s own thoughts and more like an idea being shared by some force far bigger than a single human being.

Universal Knowing And Me

Excluding things such as science and technology, there seems to be a lack of newness when it comes to thinking and ideas, especially in areas like self-improvement. Most of the information I get my hands on lately contains knowledge I absorbed years ago. In other words, the main difference between the information of today and the information of yesteryear tends to be the modern-day filter it’s been run through, or—as some might say—a repackaging of old wisdom to make it look new again.

That being said, this world has a huge space and need for repackaged old wisdom. Why? Because Universal Knowing constantly searches for expanded ways to express itself through different points of view and life experiences. Books. Music. Movies. Social justice. World views/beliefs. A new “breakthrough” diet and workout routine. What’ev. Universal Knowing constantly seeks new ways to be reborn into fresh perspectives.

Yeah, I get it. I sound like I might be preaching from the crazy side of the invisible line. I’ll stop with the Universal Knowing stuff. The seed has been planted, anyway.

In any case, while I was at one of my lowest points in the days following Shit’s Creek, I suddenly saw a map in my head or mind’s eye:

Unknown –>Safety Mode –> Breathe –> Inventory –> Declutter –> Reorganize –> Plan –> Track –> Adjust –> Celebrate –> Unknown

It’s nothing special. However, the different signposts pointing in specific directions sparked a feeling of hope within me. For a split second I didn’t feel doomed and defeated. Instead, I got a glimpse of an impossible life that felt strangely—possible.

Naturally, as a former teacher, I opened up my laptop and researched how others suggest we bounce back when life hits us hard with unknowns. Unsurprisingly, many of the signposts listed above were suggested.

Am I merely recycling wisdom my subconscious picked up in the past? Or am I balancing like a tightrope walker on a line between crazy and Universal Wisdom? Why did those directions suddenly appear on the screen of my mind’s theater? Again, what’ev… I’m just eager to see where this map takes me.

Hopefully there’s pirate-like treasure at the end!

Starting Over At 50: The Foundation Of Something Priceless’ Mission

To offer information, support and motivation for others when they’re faced with crippling unknowns—that’s what Something Priceless strives to achieve with this blog. As I uncover new information to help rebuild my own life, I’ll pass the knowledge on to you.

I’ll also pass along my personal experiences—both wins and losses—to make those reading this blog feel less alone as they battle their own struggles with terrifying unknowns and unwanted changes. Together we can make it through the darkest parts of change until we reach the blissful glow of new beginnings.

Of course, there’ll probably be some fun stuff entered into the mix as well. All work and no play make for a very dull… S. Verrall.

Simple Recap: There’s Almost A “Divine Intervention” Visible In The Summary

Before: I felt heartbroken because I lived too far away from my aging parents. –> The unknown happens. –> After: Now I get to spend lots of time with my parents because I’m their basement roommate.

Before: I’d often dream of owning a house. However, I wouldn’t even consider selling my condo due to an impossible housing market. –> The unknown happens. –> I’m forced to sell my condo. This situation still totally sucks. That being said, at least the words possibility and house can exist in the same sentence again. To be continued…

Before: I often felt an urge to do something different with my life, but I was terrified to quit a career I’d invested most of my adult existence to. –> The unknown happens. –> After: I’m forced to quit my job as a teacher while simultaneously being locked out of returning to a classroom due to statewide budget cuts. Therefore, finding a new career becomes my only option.

Before: I dream of starting a blog that’s a resource for others. However, I don’t have the time or topic of value to write about. –> The unknown happens. –> After: Since I’ve been forced to consider new career options and dig my way out of the paralyzing unknown, I now have both time and a topic to build a foundation for a helpful blog.

In Conclusion

Starting over at 50—sucks. However, my hope is to take the pile of rubble known as my life and rebuild it into something of my dreams. In fact, my first mission is to commit to a YEAR OF HEALTH immediately following my doctor’s appointment on September 27^th. Physical health. Mental health. Career health. Environmental health. Relationship health. Social health. Like—the goal is to examine all the different types of health so I can breathe new energy into the second half of my life.

That being said, an even greater hope would be for my comeback story to inspire others to grant themselves permission to reconsider their own dreams and possibilities.

It’s never too late to start over. And if all goes well, I’ll have a toolbox of resources available online so starting over becomes a real possibility for everyone—instead of a damn, dreaded fear.

Follow me on Instagram @insta.priceless.gram.