When the Old Self Softens: Ikigai in Midlife

There was a season in midlife when I began to feel unfamiliar to myself.

My body asked for more silence, more solitude, more time in quiet places. I became less tolerant of noise, rushing, and the constant giving that had once defined so much of my life.

I found myself questioning everything.

What am I doing here?
What truly makes life worth living?
Who am I becoming now?

The more uncertain I felt, the harder I pushed myself, not realising that life was asking something entirely different of me. It was asking me to soften. To slow down. To open myself to a new stage of life rather than resist it.

But I did resist.

I didn’t want to let go of the old version of myself. Perhaps because beneath it all, I was afraid of what this next chapter might ask of me.

In younger years, I believed purpose was something to pursue. Midlife taught me that meaning often arrives through listening instead.

During this season of transition, I came across a deeply meaningful book called On the Meaning of Ikigai (Ikigai ni Tsuite) by Japanese psychiatrist Dr Mieko Kamiya.

I was profoundly touched by her understanding of Ikigai. Unlike the simplified versions often spoken about today, Dr Kamiya described Ikigai as something deeply essential to the human spirit, almost like a form of inner life force. She wrote that taking away someone’s Ikigai could even become a kind of cruelty.

Those words stayed with me.

They made me reflect on my own relationship with Ikigai in a completely different way. To be honest, going through midlife brought mixed emotions. Beneath the surface, I felt as though I was losing something: a familiar version of myself that I had known for many years.

Dr Kamiya also wrote:

“Menopause is not only hormonal; it is the crisis of losing one’s Ikigai.”

That sentence touched something deep within me.

The changes were not only physical. There were the visible transitions, the ceasing of menstruation, the changing rhythms of the body, and the subtle grief of no longer feeling quite the same as before. At times, it felt unsettling and quietly sad.

Yet as I continued reading Kamiya’s work, something within me slowly began to shift. Alongside the grief, I also began to sense possibility. Hope.

I started to understand that this stage of life was not asking me to disappear into misery, but to meet myself differently. Instead of resisting change, I began learning how to soften into it.

Slowly, I began noticing how much of my life had been shaped by striving. Like many women, I had become skilled at caring for others, pushing through exhaustion, and ignoring the quiet signals of my own body. Menopause, however, has a way of revealing what we can no longer ignore.

There is another quote inspired by Dr Kamiya that stayed with me:

“The question is not ‘What have I lost?’ but ‘What remains for me to live?’”

Midlife often feels like an ending. But what if it is also a beginning?

Menopause can open a space to rediscover purpose, our Ikigai, beyond roles, expectations, and the identities we have carried for so long.

For me, this transition became an invitation to acknowledge the inevitable changes of the body, while also reflecting more deeply on what truly matters beyond the physical. Rather than focusing only on what was changing, I began asking myself a different question:

What does it mean to live this life fully now?

In midlife, I began to understand Ikigai differently. It was no longer about endlessly pursuing success, pressuring myself to achieve more, or trying to keep up with the expectation of always staying young. Instead, it became something much simpler and much deeper: learning how to truly be present in my own life.

Challenges will always exist. Life will never be free from uncertainty, change, or loss. But rather than resisting these experiences, Ikigai has taught me to live alongside them, to soften into them, and even to find a sense of aliveness through them.

My understanding of Ikigai now is about living fully in the present moment as often as I can. Knowing that life is finite makes those moments feel even more precious.

I often return to Dr Kamiya’s words:

“Where there is Ikigai, suffering softens.”

Those words continue to stay with me. The uncertainties, worries, and disappointments that can arise during midlife may not disappear completely, but when we reconnect with our Ikigai, something within us begins to shift. Hope quietly returns.

Ikigai does not have to be something grand. It can be going to the gym a few times a week because it makes you feel stronger and more alive. It can be sharing coffee and laughter with close friends. It can be sitting quietly in nature, listening to birdsong or the movement of trees in the wind, and feeling yourself part of something greater.

Ikigai can exist in the smallest moments of everyday life if we are willing to notice it. Like breath, it quietly walks beside us.

Perhaps Ikigai is not a destination or a title to achieve, but a relationship we continue to nurture throughout our lives.

So I leave you with these gentle questions:

What brings you joy?
What makes your heart feel alive?
What quietly calls you forward each day?

Perhaps asking these questions during times of transition can help us move through life more intentionally and with greater compassion for ourselves.

Because beyond simply managing symptoms or fearing change, there is also beauty in reconnecting with the deeper reasons we choose to live fully each day.