Two years ago, as I celebrated my 41st birthday, I embarked on a journey I once thought was off-limits for a working mom of my age: I reinvented myself.
As a child, I delighted in exploring various professional identities as if trying on costumes—president, teacher, author, psychologist, and even movie star. It wasn’t until my twenties that I started to narrow down my options, eliminating the White House and an Oscar from consideration. Yet, as an adult, I continued to keep my horizons broad. I gravitated toward meaningful roles and switched employers whenever something new sparked my interest or if my current path lost its appeal. With advanced degrees in my toolkit, I transitioned from one field to another, embracing the freedom of being single and unencumbered.
My graduate studies led me into policy work, which in turn opened the door to law school, clerkships, and an esteemed position at a top law firm. Initially, it was a rewarding and lucrative experience, but it soon became clear that the grueling 15-hour workdays, the adversarial nature of the legal system, and being perpetually on call were not for me. I contemplated leaving, weighed the financial implications, and then reconsidered my options.
Then, life happened. I got married, became a stepmother, adopted a dog, purchased a home, and welcomed a baby. Suddenly, the idea of leaving my job felt daunting. There were bills to pay, college funds to save, and a house to maintain. While some days I yearned to be at home with the kids, I took pride in my financial contributions to our family. I valued my professional identity, and after years of education and training, I didn’t want to abandon it. Additionally, I believed it was essential for my boys to have a strong, working mother as a role model. I felt a commitment to stability, which seemed more important than the thrill of new experiences.
Jumping from job to job no longer felt like an option for a responsible mother. It didn’t seem rational, predictable, or wise. The thought of leaving to pursue a new path felt as far-fetched as enjoying an uninterrupted adult conversation or getting a full night’s sleep. Work became merely a means to an end, and I craved inspiration. With my husband’s encouragement, I decided to pursue one of my childhood dreams on the side. By day, I met clients’ needs and fulfilled partner demands, while at night, after my kids fell asleep, I wrote. I wrote for free. I wrote whenever I could. I wrote because it was my passion. I dipped my toes into the waters, curious if my writing could evolve into something beyond a sleep-depriving thrill.
After two years of weaving writing into the fabric of my life, I made the bold decision to leave my job and chase my dream full-time. At 41, with two kids, I found myself unemployed for the first time in a quarter-century. The experience was both terrifying and exhilarating.
I recognize the privilege I have in this endeavor—having a supportive spouse who backs me financially (at least for now) and emotionally is invaluable. However, I discovered that much of what had held me back wasn’t finances but fear. Fear of losing my identity and status. Fear of failing. Fear of judgment from others. Fear of upsetting my family dynamics. I had a multitude of “what-ifs” that stifled my ambitions and dreams.
Upon quitting, I faced astonished reactions from colleagues and envy from some. I transitioned from a seasoned attorney to a novice freelancer. Instead of the scrutiny of judges and adversaries, I now dealt with rejections from faceless editors and comments from unknown critics. Self-confidence became a daily struggle. Occasionally, I missed the structure of the office and, yes, the steady paycheck.
Yet, whatever I lost pales in comparison to what I have gained: autonomy, flexibility, creativity, quality time with my kids, restful nights, and the opportunity to pursue a lifelong dream. I learned that the skills from one career can adapt to fit another, and that education and training are never wasted—they can be repurposed. My family doesn’t define me by my profession, even though I spent too long believing they did. I don’t have a book deal, a viral post, or a regular salary, and that’s perfectly fine. Right now, I’m focused on building a new career, and even if I stumble, I know I can recover without regrets.
I won’t sugarcoat it—making a significant life change in midlife comes with its share of challenges and sacrifices. But if you’re seeking a fresh start and can grasp what it means to begin anew, the rewards are worth it. We can’t all be the next E.L. James or Sara Blakely, but we can strive for something greater. As Shel Silverstein wisely said:
“Listen to the mustn’ts, child,
Listen to the don’ts
Listen to the shouldn’ts
The Impossibles, the won’ts
Listen to the never haves
Then listen close to me –
Anything can happen, child,
Anything can be.”
This article was originally published on June 9, 2015.
Summary:
In this reflective piece, Clara Reynolds shares her journey of self-reinvention at 41 after years in the legal profession. Faced with the challenges of family life, she explores the fears that held her back from pursuing her passion for writing. With encouragement from her husband, she takes a leap of faith to leave her law career behind and embrace her dream. Clara emphasizes that while the transition brought challenges, the freedom, creativity, and fulfillment she gained far outweigh the losses. She encourages others to consider their aspirations, reminding them that anything is possible.