I think there’s a difference between taking responsibility for your life and taking ownership of it. Most women I know have spent decades taking responsibility. For our families, our work, our homes, our relationships, and often for everyone else’s needs right alongside (or sometimes instead of) our own. Responsibility asks, “What needs me?” Ownership asks, “Is this life still mine?” When we’re young, life is all about building. We built careers, relationships, families, homes, and dreams. We figured out who we were as adults, and did the best we could with what we knew at the time. We made decisions based on our experiences, our values, what we learned growing up, and sometimes on what everyone around us told us what we should want. Looking back, I didn’t question much of it. I didn’t have the time or capacity. I was busy adulting. Navigating life, trying to make good choices, trying to be responsible, trying to create a life that felt meaningful and secure. Isn’t that what we were supposed to be doing? The first half of life is meant for exploring. We try things on. We discover what works. We learn through success and disappointment. We collect experiences that shape us. Along the way, though, we also collect beliefs about who we “need” to be. We develop habits that help us manage difficult seasons. We create systems that keep life moving. We tell ourselves stories about what’s expected of us, what makes us worthy, what it means to be successful, what it means to be a good wife, mom, daughter, friend, or leader. Some of those things become beautiful parts of who we are. Some were exactly what we needed at the time. Others…maybe not. The interesting thing is that we rarely stop long enough to sort through any of it, except for short bursts. We just keep adding to the collection because life keeps moving, and we’re busy living it. Then somewhere in midlife, something begins to shift. Maybe it’s when the kids don’t need us the way they once did. Maybe it’s after a divorce, the loss of a parent, a career change, a health scare, or simply waking up one morning with the quiet realization that the life you’ve built doesn’t quite fit the woman you’ve become.