You Have Earned This: A Permission Slip for Women Over 50

You have been taking care of everyone else for a very long time. Here is your permission slip to take care of yourself — starting today.

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I want to talk about something that does not get said nearly often enough to women over 50.

You have earned this.

Not someday. Not once the last thing on the list gets done, the last person gets taken care of, the last obligation gets fulfilled. Now. Today. This ordinary Tuesday or Wednesday or whatever day it happens to be, with nothing remarkable on the calendar and a dozen things still waiting for your attention.

You have earned the beautiful mug. The cashmere throw. The flowers you keep walking past at the market and not buying because they feel like an indulgence. The hour with a good book and no guilt attached to it. The cup of something warm made slowly and drunk sitting down — not on the go, not standing at the sink, not while simultaneously emptying the dishwasher and answering an email.

You have earned a moment to yourself. A day out doing exactly what you love. A meal at the restaurant you actually want to go to. A small beautiful thing bought for no reason except that it makes you happy.

You have earned all of it. And the permission to enjoy it without apology is long overdue.

The Years You Gave Away

Most of the women I know over 50 have spent the better part of three decades giving. Their time, their energy, their attention, their patience. To children and husbands and aging parents and employers and friends and communities and causes. To everyone and everything, in roughly that order, with themselves somewhere near the bottom of the list — if they made the list at all. More often than not, they did not.

I know this because I lived it. As has every woman I know — my mother, my aunts, my sisters, my friends. My grandmother had ten children. I am fairly certain she was at the very bottom of her own list every single day of her life, and she would not have had it any other way. That generation did not have the language for self care. They simply got up each morning and gave what they had, which was everything, and then they did it again the next day.

We are not so different.

And I know it because when I write about intentional living and midlife and of finally putting yourself back on your own list — the response that comes back from you is immediate. You know exactly what I am talking about. You have been living it too.

The giving years are not something to regret. No one regrets time with their children or the years spent helping their parents. I want to say that clearly. They were full and meaningful and they shaped us in ways we are only now beginning to understand. The nurturer in me — and I suspect in most of you — does not disappear at 50. She just finally gets to turn some of that care inward. Toward us. Toward the person we are, as one reader so beautifully put it, to “dusting ourselves off.”

That is not selfishness. That is wisdom arriving, right on time, as it does as one ages.

What the Permission Slip Actually Looks Like

It does not look like a spa day — although if that is what you want, book it and enjoy every single minute. I love a spa day too. But this is not about grand gestures.

It looks smaller than that. And it matters more than you think.

It looks like the little things. The small joy hiding in every ordinary day, waiting to be noticed. I have come to believe — and it has taken me most of my life to really believe it — that our lives are already full of beauty. Not the beauty we are waiting to have one day, not the beauty in someone else’s home or wardrobe or garden. The beauty that is already here, already ours, already happening on this ordinary Tuesday while we are looking the other way. We just have to slow down long enough to see it.

Buying the flowers, for instance. Not waiting for someone to bring them to you — just buying them yourself, because you pass them every week at the store and they make you happy and you deserve to have beautiful things in your home. Tulips in March. Dahlias in September. Peonies when they come, because they are only here for a moment and then they are gone and you will have to wait a whole year for more. Buy them. Put them where you will see them every single day and enjoy them.

It looks like the beautiful mug. Not the practical one you reach for out of habit — the one you love. The seasonal one, the whimsical one, the one that was a gift from someone you miss. Fill it with something you actually enjoy — real drinking chocolate, a proper loose-leaf tea that needs time to steep, whatever it is that makes the first quiet minutes of the morning feel like yours. The mug is not a small thing. It is the first decision of the day. It is the moment you say, before anyone else has asked anything of you: this morning matters and so do I.

It looks like the cashmere throw draped over the chair you actually sit in. Not saved for guests, not kept pristine for company. Used. Worn soft. Wrapped around your shoulders on a cold evening with a book and a candle burning down and the house finally quiet — or in the early morning hours when you are writing in your journal and savoring the silence before the world wakes up and needs things from you again. That is not luxury. That is an ordinary day made intentionally beautiful.

It looks like the gratitude journal you keep meaning to start. Five minutes in the morning before anyone else needs anything. Three things you are grateful for, written in your own handwriting, in a book that belongs entirely to you. Gratitude is not a wellness trend. It is an ancient practice that feeds the soul, steadies the mind and makes your ordinary life feel rich and abundant.

It looks like the good book you keep putting off until you have more time. You do not have more time. None of us do. The time is now and the book is waiting. I spent years wanting a copy of Wonderland — the breathtaking photography book by Kristy Mitchell. I waited too long and it sold out and I have regretted it ever since. Do not wait. Order the book. Buy the thing you have been circling in a magazine or have waiting in your cart. An hour spent reading or looking at something that nourishes your spirit and fills your cup is not indulgent. It is necessary, everyone needs to have their cup refilled.

On Spending Money on Yourself

I know it is where many of us get stuck.

There is a particular kind of guilt that attaches itself to spending money on yourself — especially if you have spent years managing household budgets, stretching to make ends meet, putting everyone else first. Even when there is money available, the impulse to justify it— that does not go away on its own. You have to decide to let it go.

Here is what I know at this stage of life. The cashmere sweater you wear every single month for fifteen years costs less per wearing than almost anything else in your wardrobe. The beautiful mug that makes your morning ritual feel special costs almost nothing and delivers joy every day for years. The bunch of flowers you buy yourself on a Tuesday costs less than a glass of wine and makes the whole house feel colorful and alive.

These are not extravagances. They are small investments in your own joy. And you are worth every one of them.

Here is what I would tell you to spend on yourself without hesitation — from someone who has learned this slowly, and sometimes the hard way:

A mug or cup you truly love — seasonal, whimsical, beautiful, entirely yours. Good chocolate for your morning drink — TCHO or Guittard if you have not tried them yet, and the recipe is here if you want it. A cashmere throw in a color you actually love — not beige because it is safe, the color that makes you happy when you look at it, who cares if it matches the room if it brings you joy? A gratitude journal and a good pen — I bought my first good pen in Paris in one of those beautiful stationery shops the French do so well, and my Montblanc was stolen while traveling years later, which still stings. The ballpoint I found to replace it is loved just as much. Fresh flowers regularly, not just for special occasions. The book you have been wanting — do not wait until it sells out. A silk scarf — and here is what I have learned about silk scarves after years of loving them. You do not have to play the Hermès game if you do not want to. The auction houses carry the most beautiful silk and cashmere scarves from every designer at every price point, and that is where I look first. And if a cashmere scarf or wrap is what you are after, look at Sabina Savage — the most stunning pieces, and my husband gave me one once for no reason at all except that he had seen it and knew I would love it. That is the whole story. Nothing more special than that — and nothing more special was needed. A candle in a scent you love. My house is decorated like a perpetual fall and winterscape — when the weather warms I find myself longing for the cooler days again — so my candles are almost always autumn and Christmas scents. Pumpkin spice, Fraser fir, the occasional warm spice blend that smells like the holidays. And peonies in spring, just because.

None of these things will change your life in any dramatic way. All of them, together, over time, will change how your ordinary days feels. And your ordinary days are your life. Not the big events. Not the milestones. The quiet Tuesday morning with the right cup and the candle lit and the journal open — that is it. That is the whole thing.

One Small Thing

If you have been last on your own list for longer than you can remember, the idea of putting yourself first can feel strange and even a little uncomfortable. That is normal. It takes practice, like anything else worth doing.

Start with one small thing. Just one.

Maybe it is the flowers. Maybe it is pulling out the good cup instead of the sensible one. Maybe it is twenty minutes with a book before the day gets going, the door closed, the phone face down. On that note — do not pick up your phone first thing in the morning. Do not let the noise of the outside world be the first thing you hear. Give yourself five minutes of being yourself and enjoying yourself before the day begins to ask things of you. It is a small act  of self-preservation and it will change your mornings.

Whatever your one small thing is — do it today. Not to check it off a list. Not because someone told you to practice self-care. But because you have been showing up for everyone else for a very long time.

It is your turn now.

You have earned the beautiful ordinary life that is already right in front of you. All it needs is your full attention and your permission to enjoy it.

If you need that permission — this is it.

For more on living intentionally at this stage of life, that post is here: Intentional Living After 50: What It Really Looks Like.

What is the one small beautiful thing you keep walking past and not letting yourself have? Tell me in the comments — I would love to know.

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You might also enjoy:

Intentional Living After 50: What It Really Looks Like

My Morning Ritual After 50 — Everything In It and Why It’s Non Negotiable

Dear Woman Who Has Been Last on Her Own List (coming soon)

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