The need to retreat around 50 may not be a sign that something is wrong.

It may be part of the transformation into the woman you are becoming.

There is something strange that happens to many of us around 50. We suddenly want to be alone. We want less noise, fewer demands and fewer people needing something from us. We become more protective of our time and energy, and things we once happily tolerated can start to feel exhausting.

From the outside, this can look like isolation. We may even worry that something is wrong because we no longer want the same level of socialising, responsibility or involvement we once did. We can feel guilty for withdrawing or wonder why we suddenly need so much space when we used to be perfectly capable of keeping everything going.

But I think there is often something much deeper happening.

The chrysalis years

I keep thinking about the caterpillar. For most of its life, the caterpillar is simply getting on with being a caterpillar. It doesn't know there is another version of life waiting for it. It doesn't know it will one day have wings. As far as the caterpillar is concerned, this is simply what life is.

Then something changes. An instinct takes over and it feels the urge to retreat from the world and enter the chrysalis, even though it cannot possibly understand what is waiting on the other side.

What happens inside is not a gentle makeover. Much of the caterpillar's old body breaks down before the butterfly can form. The old version has to dissolve before something entirely different can emerge.

I think this is a beautiful metaphor for what many women experience around 50. We have spent decades building a life, working, caring, raising families, adapting, compromising and becoming incredibly good at being the woman our life needed us to be. We have created careers, relationships, homes, identities and routines around who we have been.

Then something begins to shift.

The life that once fitted us can suddenly feel too small. Work that once mattered may lose its meaning. Relationships can feel different. Our tolerance for obligation, noise and unnecessary drama changes. Things we have done unquestioningly for years may suddenly prompt the uncomfortable thought: why am I still doing this?

We may not yet know what we want instead, but somewhere underneath all of that uncertainty is often a deep knowing that there is more. We cannot see the butterfly yet, but something inside us seems to know she exists.

This is often when the urge to retreat becomes stronger. We want quiet. We need space to think. We may want less contact with people who have always known us in a certain role because being around them can make it harder to hear what is changing inside us.

After decades of being useful, available, capable and responsible, withdrawing for a while can feel almost rebellious. But being alone is not necessarily about withdrawing from life. Sometimes it is about having enough space to understand who we are becoming.

When falling apart is part of becoming

This part of the transition can still be unsettling. Relationships may change, work can lose its meaning, old ambitions can disappear and parts of our identity may begin to fall away. We can feel as though we are falling apart because, in a sense, the old structure of our life is doing exactly that.

But falling apart is not always the same as things going wrong. Sometimes it is part of the transformation.

The old roles, expectations and compromises that once held our life together may no longer be able to come with us into what is next. We need time to shed them before we can see clearly again.

This is why I don't think we should be too quick to drag ourselves out of this in-between place. We don't need to immediately reinvent ourselves, find our purpose or decide what the next twenty years should look like. Sometimes clarity only comes once we have stopped trying to keep the old life intact.

And this is the exact place where many of the women I work with find themselves. They know their old life no longer fits, but they cannot yet see what wants to take its place. Our work together is about bringing clarity to that in-between space, listening for what is trying to emerge and beginning to shape a next chapter that feels more like who they are now.

There is life on the other side of this. I think this is one of the things women are rarely told about being around 50. We are so accustomed to hearing narratives about ageing, loss and becoming less that when our old identity begins to dissolve, we naturally assume something is disappearing.

Perhaps something is.

But that doesn't mean you are disappearing with it.

What looks like a narrowing of your life may actually be the space you need before it expands in an entirely new direction. You are not expected to see the butterfly while you are still inside the chrysalis. The fact that you can already feel there is more may be enough for now.

A whole new life can begin after 50.

With so much love & respect,

Sharonah x