Just Me, Mylee

A mother, a writer, a happiness-seeker and self-improvement junkie navigating through life in the city.

Recently on one of the many podcasts that I listen to I heard someone comment about how when people hit middle age they often tell themselves that they’re done. Life as they know it is over and it is time to slow down. All yoga pants and hair in a bun from that point on.

This struck me because I’ve reached middle age and don’t feel that way at all.

Middle age, to me, is exactly that. You’re in the middle. You’re half-way. Your life isn’t over. You don’t get to just let go and assume that everything from that point onward is downhill.

Life doesn’t stop when you get to the age of 45 or whenever it is that middle age officially begins.

I’m currently at the mid-point with my mother and first-born daughter. I look ahead of me and see my mother who has definitely slowed down physically. I look behind me and see my daughter who’s come of age and having the time of her life in her first year of college. Then I look at myself and see someone who is no longer a spring chicken but definitely not ready to throw in any kind of towel. I’m still having a good time.

I may be 49 now but there’s still a whole lot of living to do, plenty of goals to go after. I may have different wants and needs than 19-year-old me — even 29 year-old-me — had but I still have wants and needs that have nothing to do with stretchy pants or easy hairstyles.

Oh, I will go out and buy the damn concert tickets. I foresee plenty of GNOs (Girls Night Out) in my future. I’m going after the new dreams that I’ve recently discovered. I’m not too old to do so. I know there are no rules about when you’re supposed to stop striving for the things that you want.

As per one of my favorite quotes which has become my middle-aged mantra:

“It’s never too late to become the person you were meant to be.”

Cheers to that!


Who knows why things come through our lives when they do.

Serendipity. Fate. Happenstance. Coincidence.

I do believe in all of these things.

I believe that things happen for a reason.

I believe that things happen when they happen for a reason.

Like my reading The Alchemist when I did and hearing the words, “When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”

Then listening to Oprah’s Super Soul Conversations podcast series and coming across the episode where Paulo Coelho (author of The Alchemist) is the guest. Hearing him talk about personal legend, one’s destiny in life, and how we should identify ours then go about pursuing it.

Next there’s coming across Medium.com. Specifically Jonas Ellison’s Higher Thoughts and suddenly feeling equally motivated and challenged to post daily. (Warning: I will be posting something daily.)

I truly believe my personal legend is to be a writer. And to tell stories, both fiction and non-fiction, that will resonate with even just one person out there in this world and maybe make a difference in their life. I believe this with all my heart and every fiber of my being.

Call me crazy. Tell me I’m nuts. I’m no spring chicken. I’ve stepped into and am now all up in midlifery. I call myself a writer yet I don’t even have a single book out yet.


That’s the key word. Because you see, even though some people are afraid to pursue their personal dreams because they feel they don’t deserve to or that they’ll be unable to fulfill them, I’m not afraid.

Sure, maybe I won’t produce a New York Times best seller. But I can certainly believe I can, right? I might fall flat on my face as a writer but I’ll never know unless I try, wouldn’t you say? I may never influence a single person with my words but what if I do?

My point is this: I’ve realized that writing is my passion and, as written in the Alchemist, when a person really desires something all the universe conspires to help that person to realize his dream. I believe that my being exposed to the afore-mentioned items is really just universe doing its thing to help me pursue my dream.

And who am I not to follow what the universe is doing?


I woke up with an anxious feeling this morning and I knew exactly why. It’s because today my son will be taking public transportation home. And I bet I’m going to sound like a total asshole here but I feel so bad about it. I feel like there’s something wrong. Like I’m a bad parent for not picking him up.

What is the matter with me? I don’t know why I’m like this. Sebastian is 15 now, way old enough to take the bus home and besides, it’s not like he’s going to be by himself. He’ll be with his friends during his trek from school to the train station.

Still there’s a part of me that feels like I’m failing him. Shouldn’t he be getting picked up from school everyday like his older sister was? Shouldn’t I be sparing him from the mean city streets of downtown San Francisco? Is it really that I feel bad about it or is it that I see this as a symbol of my son growing up?

Yea, I get it. It’s pretty dumb of me. But I live in the city, my son’s high school is located downtown in close proximity to the Tenderloin district where, let’s just say, colorful people roam the streets. My kids have been driven to and from school since they all started in pre-K. I, on the other hand, was a latch-key kid growing up in the late 70s and early 80s.

Times were different back in my day. But even back then I had to deal with the crazy guy in the pick-up truck who showed me and my best friend his junk while we were waiting at the bus stop. And the punk kid who tried to mess with me on my walk home from school so I ended up not going straight to my house and instead found help at some random stranger’s house around the block.

I didn’t want my kids to have to go through those kinds of things. I wanted to know that they were safe from the time the final school bell rang to the time they got they got home and that meant that either I or their dad would pick them up. I realize that that makes me sound like a control freak but these are my kids. If I’m not going to be the control freak in their lives, who would be? Besides, things are even crazier out there nowadays and I just don’t want my kids to be exposed to any of that mess.

But I get it. I can’t always baby my son. I know that I’m probably doing him a disservice by not letting him get out there to experience this world. I realize plenty of kids his age do it. And they are all fine. I know Sebastian will be fine, too.

It’s time for me to cut that cord and let him go. It’s not like he’s going off to war.

Again, I repeat, if only for myself: Sebastian is going to be fine.

I wish I had given him a can of mace though.