My midlife moment didn’t arrive all at once. The first jolt came when I had a heart attack at 39 — a wake-up call that forced me to confront mortality earlier than I expected. But in some ways, the more jarring shift happened almost a decade later, when I began aging in a way I couldn’t ignore. I had looked 35 until nearly 50, and then—seemingly overnight—I started seeing someone different in the mirror. It wasn’t just about appearance; it was about identity. I felt like I was grieving the version of myself I had been for so long: the youthful guy whose age always surprised people. Suddenly, I wasn’t him anymore. At the same time, I was recommitting to my passion for acting after over a decade in a corporate career. But that brought its own challenges. I worried I was now past the age for the roles I once longed to play. The dream hadn’t died — but the terms had changed. I found myself reckoning with feelings of failure, burnout, and the question of whether I had anything meaningful to show for all the years I’d been chasing this path. The journey since then hasn’t been linear. But now in my 50's with time, reflection, and some truly fulfilling projects under my belt, I’ve begun to make peace with what midlife means for me. I still have goals, but I no longer define success by rigid milestones or external validation. I’ve discovered the beauty of aging into new kinds of roles — on stage, in life, and in community. I’ve also come to see purpose not as a destination, but as a way of being: evolving, internal, and intimately mine. That shift has made space for acceptance, clarity, and even joy in the person I’m becoming.