Hey Fab Fam,

Yesterday, I scrolled through some of my recent social posts and thought something wild, something crazy….

“My gosh, these are boring. I used to be a fun person. What happened?”

I sat and thought about it for a while, because if it’s one thing I am, it’s introspective.

I realized that my personality has changed so much over time that now I barely recognize myself.

I know that change comes with growth. Life does that to us. Experience matures us.

But not all change comes from growth.

Some of it comes from trying to fit in. From learning how to be agreeable. From softening yourself so you don't stand out too much. From adapting so often that eventually you forget you're adapting at all.

You don't wake up one day and decide to hide parts of yourself. You just learn what behavior is rewarded and what isn't. And as most of us would do, we hide the parts of us that aren’t.

What I Buried (Without Even Realizing It)

When I first moved to America at fourteen, I smiled at everyone in greeting. I said good morning to strangers on the street, in elevators, and passing in hallways. It was something I'd grown up doing in Saint Vincent—it was expected in my community, just basic human warmth.

What I got back weren't warm returned smiles.

I got questioning looks. Wary stares. That particular American suspicion of friendliness from strangers.

So that went away. I learned to keep my eyes down. To mind my business. To stop being so… open.

I loved dating. I was boy-happy like every young woman figuring out who she was and what she wanted. There was joy in that exploration, that possibility.

Then depression hit. And suddenly the fear of upsetting my emotional equilibrium put a damper on everything—not just my dating life, but my whole life. I became less self-confident. I put myself out there less. The playful, curious version of me who smiled at strangers and flirted with possibility? She got buried under the weight of just trying to keep it together.

Then ADHD and menopause tag-teamed to steal my memories and my words. I started speaking less so I wouldn't be seen as a bumbling idiot who couldn't find the right word or finish a thought without losing the thread entirely.

My ADHD makes me more active and sociable at work—which I know can be annoying at times, admittedly. But it also makes me sad to feel different from others while simultaneously trying to appreciate and embrace my uniqueness. It's exhausting, that push-pull.

And my openness to spirituality, to other-worldly things, to ideas that don't fit neatly into conventional boxes? That distances me from people too. It's hard to be open and speak your mind when others aren't. So I learned to keep those parts quiet.

The girl who greeted strangers with genuine warmth. The woman who loved the adventure of dating. The person who spoke freely without worrying if the words came out perfectly. The one who talked openly about energy, intuition, and things beyond what we can see.

I filed them all away under "things that don't work here" and "ways I need to be different to belong."

The Realization That Changed Everything

A while ago I was walking through my neighborhood, and this woman was walking toward me with her dog. The young girl in me wanted to smile, to say good morning, to acknowledge her.

This next chapter of my life isn't about becoming someone new.

It's about finding the parts of myself I buried under decades of trying to fit into a new culture, succeed in workplaces, fit into friend groups, managing mental health that made everything harder, and protecting myself from judgment.

The things I loved before society told me who to be. The openness I had before depression taught me to play it safe. The authenticity I had before ADHD and menopause made me feel like I couldn't trust my own mind. The spiritual curiosity I had before I learned that made people uncomfortable.

Today's Mindset Reset

Let go of: "That version of me is gone."

Claim this instead: "She's still here. She's just been hidden waiting to be found again"

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What This Journey Looks Like

I'm not going to pretend I have this figured out, but I'm done waiting to feel like the "right kind" of woman over 50. The kind who's figured out how to perfectly balance all her diagnoses and cultural differences and spiritual leanings into some polished, acceptable package.

So here's what I'm doing—and what I'm inviting you to do with me:

Every week starting in February, let’s reclaim one small thing about ourselves that we buried.

Not in some grand, dramatic way. Just… quietly. Honestly. On our own terms.

Next week, I'm might speak up in a conversation even if I can't find the perfect words. The week after that, I'm might share something spiritual I'm thinking about without apologizing for it or softening it to make it more palatable. Whatever it is, let it be parts of our selves that are true to us.

And I'll be journaling and sharing what I discover—the awkward moments, the surprising joy, the times I feel ridiculous or different or too much.

Reflection Prompt

It’s your turn. What's one part of yourself you miss but haven't fully given up on?

Not the big identity stuff. The small things. The quirks. The habits. The ways of being that felt natural before life taught you they weren't "appropriate" or "safe" or "normal."

Maybe you used to be more affectionate before someone told you that was needy.

Maybe you used to speak your mind before you learned that made you "difficult."

Maybe you used to trust your intuition before the world convinced you to only trust what could be proven.

Hit reply or comment and tell me. I want to know who you're trying to remember.

And if you want to try this with me—reclaiming one buried part of yourself each week, don’t forget to write it in your journal. It’s an easy way to discover what we’ve been hiding under all the adapting and compromising.

Let's do this together. Messy, honest, imperfect, and maybe a little bit weird.

With love,
Izzie
Fab at Fifty Plus

P.S. If you've been craving something quieter and truer this year—not louder or busier, not more polished or productive, just more you—you're exactly where you need to be.

This is the year we start remembering.

And if that means being a little different, a little too open, a little too warm in a culture that doesn't always reward warmth? So be it.

We've hidden our true selves long enough.