There’s this narrative that quietly follows women around, whether we realize it or not.

That there’s a peak—and it happens early.

In your 20s, maybe your early 30s if you’re lucky. That’s when you’re supposed to feel your best, look your best, have the most energy, the most confidence, the most… everything.

And after that, it’s a slow decline.

At least, that’s what we’ve been sold.

42 Is Better Than 32 (And 22)

 

But I’m 42, and I can say this with complete honesty:

I feel better now than I did at 32.

And definitely better than I did at 22.

At 22, I was figuring everything out.

I didn’t know who I was yet, but I thought I was supposed to. I second-guessed myself constantly. I cared so much about what other people thought—how I looked, how I came across, whether I was doing things “right.”

I had energy, sure.

But it was scattered. Anxious. Restless.

I didn’t feel at home in myself.

At 32, life looked more “together” on the outside.

But it was also a season of giving everything to everyone else.

A new baby. A growing life. Responsibilities that felt nonstop.

I was tired in a way that sleep didn’t fix.

I was doing my best—but I wasn’t necessarily taking care of myself in the way I needed.

I didn’t have the space (or maybe the awareness) to really tune in.

And now, at 42?

Something has shifted.

Not in a dramatic, overnight way. But in a steady, earned kind of way.

I know myself.

I trust myself.

I don’t spiral over every small decision or interaction. I don’t need constant reassurance that I’m doing okay.

There’s a groundedness that didn’t exist before.

I take care of my body differently now, too.

Not from a place of pressure—but from a place of respect.

I move because I know how good it makes me feel.
I pay attention to what I’m eating—not to control, but to support my energy.
I’ve learned what works for me, and I’ve let go of what doesn’t.

It’s not about chasing a version of myself.

It’s about maintaining the one I’ve built.

And maybe the biggest shift?

I’m not waiting for some future version of my life to feel good.

I’m not thinking, “I’ll feel better when…”

I feel good now.

In my routines.
In my relationships.
In my body.
In my work.

Not perfectly. Not every single day.

But consistently enough to recognize it.

There’s a confidence that comes with this age that has nothing to do with how you look.

It’s quieter than that.

It’s in the way you make decisions without over-explaining.
The way you say no without guilt.
The way you stop trying to be everything to everyone—and start being exactly who you are.

I think we’ve been taught to fear this stage.

To brace for it.

But what if this is actually where things get really good?

Not because everything is easier—but because you are steadier.

More rooted. More aware. More aligned.

So no, I wouldn’t go back.

Not to 32. Not to 22.

There’s nothing there that I miss enough to trade for how I feel right now.

This version of me?

She’s my favorite.