NOVEMBER FIRST 2025
“In mythology, there is a sacred archetype we rarely talk about: the Crone. The word comes from Old Norse and Celtic roots and was reclaimed by Jungian analyst Marion Woodman and feminist scholars to signify the wise elder woman—she who sees in the dark, who knows, who no longer needs to be pretty or polite.
She is bone and truth and howl, and what’s even better, she is awakening inside of us, taking up more and more space inside our minds, hearts, and souls.
Midlife is when we begin to embody her. It’s when we stop whispering and start roaring. It’s when we say, “Actually, no, I won’t do that. I don’t want to. I’m tired. And I need silence, space, and possibly a cabin in the woods with good Wi-Fi and nobody talking.”
We begin to reclaim our right to be contradictory, to change our minds, to speak from the fire in our bellies instead of the scripts we memorized to be loved.
I’m proud to announce that my people-pleasing days are over. Gone is the spiritual language I used to soften my rage, to be accepted in the love-and-light circles. I started questioning toxic positivity years ago, but now I am fully allergic to it.
Don’t tell me “Everything happens for a reason” when there are genocides unfolding as we speak. Don’t tell me to raise my vibration while I’m caring for a mother who might forget my name in the near future. Don’t tell me that anger is a “low frequency” emotion when it’s a healthy response to witnessing atrocities happening everywhere.
My anger, or sacred rage as I like to call it, is what fuels me to speak up, to raise my voice, to speak about what’s important to me.
Midlife isn’t just a phase; it’s a rite of passage that comes with many gifts and also responsibilities.
One: Grounded power.
While my thirties were spent floating in “ascension” mode—channeling, visualizing, forever raising my frequency—my forties have been a lesson in descension: in landing fully in my body, in the mess, in the moment. In letting my roots grow deep and wild and unafraid. I no longer want to float or ascend.
Two: Embodied truth.
Midlife strips us of our masks. I no longer pretend. I tell the truth in my podcast, in my sessions, in my writing. I don’t want clients who expect me to be their guru. I want kinship. I want real, authentic connections.
And yes, I still have moments of spiraling. I still fantasize about living alone. But I also know now, deeply, that those longings aren’t escapism. They are calls to return to myself, and this return to self needs some form of silence and solitude.
Three: Fierce compassion.
I no longer hold back what I feel. But I also no longer feel the need to carry everyone else’s pain. Right now, I am learning to care deeply without losing myself.
As Anaïs Nin said, “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
Midlife, for me, is the season of blooming open even if the petals are a little singed. I might not go and live alone any time soon, but I will spend a month alone traveling through China this September. And my partner, the understanding man that he is, will stay with my mum to take care of her that month.
So if you, too, are hallucinating about renting a solo flat, crying over a parent’s future, snapping at your beloved for simply blinking, and wondering who you even are right now, you are not broken. And you are also not alone. You are becoming.
Welcome to the middle. It’s messy and holy and completely yours. This season isn’t meant to break you. It’s meant to reintroduce you to the version of yourself that was always waiting.
And if your shoulder or your back starts acting up: Pause. Breathe. Put your hand on your heart and whisper, “I hear you.”
Then, slowly, powerfully, roar. Because your voice—raw, ragged, and real—was never meant to whisper.”
By Lais Stephen
Welcome to my corner:
a sanctuary for sensitive souls, seekers, and change-makers who are ready to embody their truth and step into their next chapter with clarity, courage, and connection.
Whatever your calling may be, you’re here to live a life that embodies love, wholeness, and connection. Connection to others, to your truest self, and to the world that surrounds you.