Is it Too Late to Change My Life?

an interview with Anne Boyd of Audacious Women, Creative Lives

I stumbled on Anne Boyd’s writing the same time thousands of other women did — when her newsletter about chucking it all at 52 and moving alone to Europe with a couple of suitcases and the desire to live life more fully got passed along like desire fire.

I immediately loved her combination of clear writing, deep thinking about women’s desires, and the absence of pat answers to the hard questions of how to live a life that fits you.

When I started my new format and wanted the first theme to be taking risks (it’s not too late to post your risk here), Anne popped to mind as the just right person to ask for her insights.

Anne Boyd is the writer of "Audacious Women, Creative Lives," a
newsletter inspiring women to live and write outside the lines. She is
also the author of two critically acclaimed books published by Norton.
Constance Fenimore Woolson: Portrait of a Lady Novelist (2016) was
reviewed on the cover of the New York Times Book Review and named one
of the ten best books of the year by the Chicago Tribune. Her next
book, Meg, Jo, Beth, Amy: The Story of Little Women and Why It Still
Matters (2018), was an indie bestseller and received rave reviews. It
was chosen as one of the best books of the year by Library Journal,
The Daily Mail, and A Mighty Girl. Anne is the recipient of four
National Endowment for the Humanities awards, two for public
scholarship. You can find her work on NPR, BBC Radio, and CBS Sunday
Morning, as well as in the Washington Post, Literary Hub, and
elsewhere.

Jen: Anais Nin famously wrote, “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” Can you talk about how you knew the risk was too much for your well-being to “remain tight?”

Anne: Anais Nin was really on to something with her metaphor. That is exactly what it’s felt like for me over the past 2+ years since I quit my life—my job, my marriage, my house, and all my stuff—and left for Paris on a one-way ticket. I did a lot of ground work before I left (meditation, mindfulness, psychotherapy, journaling, etc.), but getting on that plane I felt like a bud ready to burst. Because in my old life I had been holding everything in (and together)—I was so clenched and tight. And I mean literally!

My muscles had been so tight that I wasn’t sure I knew how to relax them anymore. I realized that I had spent much of my life in fight-or-flight mode. I was on constant alert for threats, which I’ve learned is not uncommon in our modern way of life. Driving through rush-hour traffic, interacting with students on the edge or colleagues stressed-out by being asked to do more with less, coming home to a marriage that had become increasingly fractious—my nervous system was constantly under siege, and my body was tightening, bracing, clenching all the time.

As a result, I was frequently in physical therapy for various pains that were always a result of extremely tight muscles. And then I developed Meniere’s, an autoimmune disorder that affects the inner ear and causes vertigo. Lying on the couch with the room spinning brought life as I knew if to a complete halt. It took me years to realize that the two problems were related to each other.  (Tight neck, jaw, and shoulders can cause all kinds of problems.) But physical therapy or other Western approaches weren’t effective solutions. They always addressed the symptoms, which were targeted in certain areas. What I needed, I finally realized, was a total overhaul. I needed a new life!

What I needed, I finally realized, was a total overhaul. I needed a new life! Underneath all of that stress and pain was a deep longing for another (simpler, happier) life.

Underneath all of that stress and pain was a deep longing for another (simpler, happier) life. If I go back and read my journals from 2021, a year before I left, I can see the seeds of this journey—the intense, often overwhelming, longing I felt for something new, for transformation. That is where it all begins. For me, it was very painful, and I had to learn to sit with it and accept it. I couldn’t yet articulate what it was that I wanted, not in any specific way, but just recognizing and accepting the wanting opened the first door from which the rest of the journey unfolded. That is the blossoming Nin talks about. It very much felt like an unfurling, an opening of myself, spreading my arms wide to the universe to see what would come to me.

My word of the year during my trip was “opening,” in fact. I intentionally stripped myself of any specific expectations for my trip, just the intention to remain as open as possible and to meet new people and to have new experiences. The result has been beyond my imaginings—because I couldn’t really imagine where it all might lead.

Jen: Did the idea that it’s too late ever stop you from taking a risk before this one? Does it come up these days?

Anne: “Too late” is the fear that propelled me to embark on my travels—not in the sense that it’s too late already, but that it could be soon, so it’s now or never! It was too late for my brother, who at 39 sold his dentistry practice and began the process of becoming a dental contractor for the army, so that he could travel the world. He had one more step, the physical, but he felt ill. Within a couple of weeks he was having emergency surgery to remove a large brain tumor. He lived only another year and a half. He died at 41 (he was 9 years younger than I) and never got to start his travels. The night he died I decided that I had to get going on my own dreams of a new life—before it was too late. It felt like the sand in the hourglass could run out at any moment.

Jen: You have a memoir on submission with editors — sending much good energy for a big sale! — and that makes me wonder how writing supported you in leaping into your new life. I spent four years writing a memoir that never saw the light of day (thank god) but it was the best writing I ever did for myself. It allowed me to see my patterns for what they were -- out of date, old news - and make much freer richer choices. 

Anne: Although I left with no specific expectations of what my new life would look like, that feeling of wanting to be a writer has always nagged at me. I was a writer, in the sense that I wrote essays and published books. But to me writing a novel or a memoir—creative writing—was the road not taken. I didn’t know how to be that kind of writer when I was younger, so I went to grad school instead and became an academic. I eventually became disenchanted with academic writing and learned how to write books about women writers for a general audience. But underneath it all I really wanted to be a writer myself!

I tried to write while I was traveling but found all I could really do was keep a journal. After six months or so, I began to fiddle around with taking those bits and pieces and reshaping and rewriting into larger chunks and seeing how I could put them together. I had to rethink how I typically would write and—most importantly—give myself time and room to experiment. Gradually, I stopped-and-started my way to something that I liked and wanted to share. I worked a bit with a developmental editor and then found an agent. And now I’d love to work toward publication.

Writing on Substack has shown me that sharing my journey is not only something I want to do for myself but something I want to do for others. So many women have arrived at middle age or the empty nest and wondered, what’s next? Or, how can I live the life I want to now? More than that, though, I think so many of us are burnt out and fed up, literally sick and tired, and we need to make radical changes to find our way back to ourselves.

Writing is absolutely a way to do that—first through journaling and perhaps by shaping a larger story about the journey you have taken. Writing about it—in the memoir and for my Substack—has absolutely helped me make sense of the huge changes I’ve made and, I hope, is helping me to cement those changes by becoming increasingly conscious of them.

Jen: What do you think we fear about a risk or a leap that we need not fear? And what might it be wise to pay attention to - not fear but not ignore?

Anne: I think we worry that we will fail, that we won’t be happier in our new life. That we’ll go through all of the pain of transition and change and be worse off, or that we’ll have regrets. If we feel this way, chances are we don’t really believe we can be happy or fulfilled. To leap requires faith—in ourselves and in the universe. So many of us have a limit in our minds of what we think we deserve or can accomplish. It’s hard to imagine being able to surpass that limit.

When I was struggling to believe I could make a different future for myself, I realized that my expectations had been quite low. I believed deep down that I didn’t deserve much. So I accepted less than what I really wanted, less than I needed, really. I woke up one day and realized that in my marriage, my work, and my writing career I felt pretty much invisible. Because I didn’t believe I was worth being seen. That was incredibly painful to realize, and to turn around. But regaining my self-respect and developing a practice of self-love—learning to see myself—were key to believing that I could—and should—be happier.

Jen: What is helping you stay open and keep leaping into your life?

Anne: I check in with myself often, focusing on my desires instead of my fears. I ask myself all the time, Does this make me happy? Does this feel right? If not, then I think about why and what might work better for me. If it does feel good, I know I’m taking the right path. Through a process of trial and error, I have found some things that make me really happy, so I want to keep walking in that direction. That is all I know, really.

I have come to accept that I must follow what feels right—not in a selfish way, but in a way that is attuned to my place in the universe. I have had to let go of grand plans and goals, of thinking that I know where I’m headed or being invested in a certain outcome. I’m letting my gut and the universe tell me where I should go next. The results have surprised me in many ways. Very little about my current life was part of my plans or dreams—except wanting to feel more completely myself, more comfortable in my own skin, and content that I’m where I should be, for now. It is such a relief to finally feel those things!

I’d love for you to share this newsletter as a thank you to Anne or give it a heart or whatever feels right to you!

Thank you so much Anne for your wise and helpful words. My heart feels stronger and braver.

To explore Anne’s work you might start here for her newsletter that went viral. Or here to read What A Woman (Writer or Artist) Really Wants or check out Anne’s thoughts on desire. Or subscribe here.