The Midlife Move: No Sudden Movements
And How Anne Lamott’s Advice to “Never Give Up” Is More Important Than Ever
Years ago, while I was recording a dating and relationship podcast, I published an episode called Plan Be—not B as in the backup plan or the morning-after pill, but be as in the verb.
I’d been inspired after reading a post Anne Lamott shared about getting married 3 days after she started receiving Medicaid. Her advice?
“Never give up.”
At the time, it was the perfect reminder—to myself and to my listeners—that just because our love lives weren’t shaking out the way we wanted right now, didn’t mean they wouldn’t shake out eventually.
I started thinking about acceptance, about the stories we tell ourselves when we’re in the thick of not knowing what comes next—and when it feels easier to give up on our dreams, on the vision we had for our lives, and sometimes on ourselves.
And it got me wondering…
What if you knew—like actually believed—that in one year, or five, or twenty-five, you'd meet the love of your life? That the career you’ve always dreamed of would finally click into place? That this stuck moment you’re in right now is the exact thing you need to become the next version of yourself?
Would every “no” still feel like the end of the world?
Would every breakup unravel you?
Would being stuck feel quite so… sticky?
If you really trusted that your future self would have everything you’ve been working toward—would these moments of uncertainty, grief, or transition feel so impossible to navigate?
Would you still cling so tightly to what isn’t working?
Would you give up?
That episode resonated deeply with listeners, and lately, I’ve been thinking about it again. Especially as I watch some of us in Midlife navigating what’s next with that quiet panic underneath: Am I running out of time?
So I wanted to revisit those ideas, because if anything, they feel even more relevant now.
But first…
There’s an old joke about the Jewish telegram:
“Start worrying. Details to follow.”
Honestly, it’s how many of us approach every life transition.
We worry first. We brace for disappointment. We assume something’s about to go wrong. That things will not work out. And in the meantime, we start compromising—our values, our needs, our boundaries. We hustle for answers. We perform. We override.
Whether it’s staying in situations that drain us because change feels too risky, or rushing toward the next thing just to feel a sense of forward motion, we find ourselves reacting instead of responding.
Trying to force outcomes instead of allowing things to unfold.
It’s a “jump and figure it out on the way down” approach to living.
I’ve done it. I’ve watched the people I love and coach do it. It’s usually rooted in a deep fear that we’re behind. That we’re missing our window. That if we don’t grab something now, we may never get another chance.
But here’s the truth I had to learn the hard way:
Worry feels productive, but it’s not.
Neither is trying to control everything.
And yet our brains are so convinced it is. That if we think harder, strategize more, or stress ourselves into action, we’ll get what we want.
If we’ve learned anything by now, it’s this: life is going to life—and we have little, if any, control over what happens next.
You can control what you think, how you show up, how you spend your time—but you can’t control the circumstances.
The people.
The places.
The things.
I know—that’s an oversimplification of life on life’s terms. Trust me.
Some days I’m grounded, aligned, breathing deeply through it all.
Other days? I’m full Moira Rose in a gown, muttering “What fresh hell is this?”
But I’m learning: when we operate from scarcity—“I’m behind,” “I’ll never find love again,” “If I don’t get it now, it’s gone”—we end up making decisions from that anxious, contracted place.
And it shows.
The job interview energy? Frantic.
The dating energy? Desperate.
The daily thoughts? Exhausting.
Even if you do get the thing you were reaching for, your nervous system’s been hijacked the entire time. That stress carries into the experience—and it never feels as good as you hoped it would.
So what are we really afraid of?
It’s rarely the thing itself.
It’s what we’re making it mean if the thing doesn’t happen.
I hear these stories all the time:
“Everyone else seems to have it figured out.”
“I should be further along by now.”
“I’ve missed my chance.”
“I can’t start over at this age.”
And maybe the most daunting of all:
“I can’t be single in my 40s.”
As if relationship status past a certain age is some kind of personal failure. As if being alone now means being alone forever. As if we expire.
But who made up that timeline? Who decided your value is based on how quickly you achieve something—or whether you’ve checked the ‘right’ boxes by a certain age? (And honestly… who’s even checking?)
What if none of that is actually true?
Because here’s what I know: when you’re comparing, judging, and spiraling about where you should be, you miss what’s actually happening in your life right now. You can’t get curious. You can’t see clearly. You’re too busy panicking to notice the path forming beneath your feet.
Over the years, I’ve adopted a new belief:
I’m on a need-to-know basis.
I don’t always know why the job didn’t work out.
Or why something felt so right and then fell apart.
Or when I’ll find what I’m looking for—if I do.
What I do know is that what I’m supposed to know—and when I’m supposed to know it—always gets revealed right on time. Not a moment sooner.
I’ve tried to force answers before.
Spoiler: it never goes well.
I’ve learned that sometimes my mind and body just aren’t ready to handle the full picture.
In fact, let’s be honest—sometimes this girl can’t handle the truth.
It’s true. The truth has arrived early before, and I’ve absolutely fumbled it. That’s how I learned the art of the waiting game. Not because I’m patient by nature, but because I had to be.
And somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing waiting as punishment and started seeing it as preparation.
That’s what acceptance really is—not giving up, but softening into what is, without trying to wrestle it into what it’s not.
So, how do we stop trying to plan, control, and worry ourselves into the life we want?
We choose Plan be
—as in the verb.
We be in our bodies. We be in the now. We be in the belief that this moment—good, or bad is preparing us for what’s next.
We trust that we’re not late.
We believe that we’re not lacking.
We stop scrambling and start settling into the truth that where we are is enough for now.
And we pause.
While talking to a friend recently, he told me his therapist gave him a mantra: No sudden movements.
And I thought—yeah. We could all use that mantra to slow our roll right now.
So—attention!
Here and now.
Where are you?
What’s around you?
How does your breath feel?
What does your body need?
Can you be with your life exactly as it is?
Can you believe that this moment is the middle of something—not the end? That what’s coming next might be bigger than anything you’ve imagined?
Can you let this chapter be sacred, even if it doesn’t look the way you thought it would?
It’s human to want more. We’re wired for growth. It’s not wrong to want deeper love, a more aligned career, new experiences.
But can you want those things from a place of abundance, not panic and emptiness?
Can you anchor that desire in everything you already have?
Your grit.
Your wisdom.
Your friendships.
Your survival.
Your sense of humor.
Can you let those things hold you while the next chapter forms?
If change is meant to happen—it will.
If it’s for your greatest good—it will come.
And it will arrive when you’re ready for it, not when you try to force it.
So here’s the question:
If I could guarantee that you will become who you're meant to be, and have the life that’s truly yours...
Could you let go of control?
Could you stop searching for the answers?
Could you stop worrying?
Could you just… be with it?
And not give up?
What comes up for you when you consider living on a "need-to-know basis"? What would change if you could let go of control and just be with where you are right now?
I remember the first time you wrote about this and it still resonates today! Acceptance is one of my favorite topics and you do a fantastic job of shaping it in here. Thank you my friend for continuing to share your voice!