Tuesday Thoughts And An Obituary with a Twist

Isabelle

Oct 13

4 min read

Hi Friends,

Have you ever watched a movie that left you thinking about something long after the credits rolled?

I recently watched The Last Word, a movie starring Shirley MacLaine as Harriet, an older, successful businesswoman who decides she wants to have her own obituary written while she is still alive. She hires a young journalist to do the job, hoping to make sure her life will be remembered exactly the way she wants it to be.

Now, imagine sitting down with someone to discuss your own obituary while you're still very much alive! Awkward, isn't it? What would you say? Where would you start? And how honest would you be about the life you've lived?

But the idea got me thinking. What if we took this concept and applied it to something other than death? What if, instead of writing an obituary for ourselves, we wrote one for the woman we used to be?

Because, let's face it: life changes us. Sometimes gradually, sometimes in ways we never saw coming. And especially in midlife, we might find ourselves looking at our lives and wondering whether the woman we've become is still the woman we want to be.

Perhaps our children have grown up. Perhaps a marriage has ended, or a relationship no longer feels right. Perhaps we've spent decades taking care of everyone else, following expectations, and being the person others needed us to be. And somewhere along the way, we lost touch with parts of ourselves.

Maybe it's time to give that former version of ourselves a proper farewell.

Here are three things I would include in the obituary of my former self.

1. Thank her for everything she carried.

Before we rush to leave our former selves behind, let's acknowledge what they did for us. She showed up, even when she was exhausted. She loved, cared, worked, sacrificed, and made the best decisions she could with what she knew at the time. She might have made mistakes, stayed too long in situations that no longer served her, or put her own needs last. But she was doing the best she could with the tools she had.

She deserves gratitude, not criticism. We don't have to be ashamed of who we were to become someone new.

2. Let go of the roles and beliefs that no longer fit.

Perhaps she believed that being a good mother meant always putting herself last. Perhaps she thought keeping the peace was more important than speaking her truth. Maybe she believed she was too old to start over, that it was too late to follow a dream, or that her worth depended on being needed by others.

We all carry beliefs and expectations that once helped us get through life but may now be holding us back.

What if we allowed some of those things to come to an end? We can love our families without losing ourselves. We can be kind without constantly pleasing others. We can honor our past without allowing it to determine our future.

3. Give her permission to rest, and welcome the woman who comes next.

An ending doesn't have to be a tragedy. Sometimes it is simply the closing of a chapter that has served its purpose.

We can appreciate the woman who raised her children, built a career, maintained a home, or held a family together, while also making room for the woman who wants to dance, travel, create, learn something new, build friendships, fall in love again, or simply enjoy a quiet morning without having to answer to anyone.

We don't have to reinvent ourselves completely. We can carry forward our wisdom, our strengths, and everything we've learned, while giving ourselves permission to discover what else is possible.

And perhaps that is the real beauty of midlife: we have enough life experience to know what we no longer want, and hopefully enough time and courage to explore what we do want.

When I think back to Harriet in The Last Word, I realize that writing her obituary was not really just about deciding how she wanted to be remembered. It became a reason to look at the life she was living and ask herself whether there was still time to change it.

She wanted to leave a legacy. But along the way, she discovered that she could still do things that would make her life, and the lives of others, different.

And that brings me to another thought.

What does it actually mean to leave a legacy?

Is it about what people will say about us after we're gone? Or is it about the lives we touch, the courage we show, the joy we share, and the things we still dare to do while we're here?

I think there is more to explore in that question, and I'd love to continue that conversation next week.

For now, I'm curious: If you were to write the obituary of your former self, what would you thank her for, and what would you be ready to let go of?

I'd love for you to share your thoughts in the comments. You never know who might need to hear your words today.

Until next Tuesday, remember: you can honor the woman you were without being obligated to remain her forever.

PS: Message me for a free consult to start moving toward a more confident you.

You are loved. Deeply loved. Loved beyond measure.

Until next time,

Isabelle