9 life lessons most people wish they'd learned before turning 40

I used to think I had everything figured out.

I was in my thirties, climbing the corporate ladder, checking all the boxes that were supposed to equal success.

And yet, something felt deeply wrong. I remember sitting at my desk one afternoon, staring at a spreadsheet, and realizing I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt genuinely excited about anything.

Looking back now from the other side of that life, I can see so many things I wish someone had told me earlier. Not in a preachy way, but in a "hey, this might save you some unnecessary suffering" kind of way.

These aren't lessons about productivity hacks or morning routines. They're the deeper shifts that changed how I move through the world.

1) Rest isn't the enemy of productivity

For years, I wore exhaustion like a badge of honor.

Working 70-hour weeks? That meant I was serious about my career. Skipping lunch to power through reports? That's what dedicated people do. Taking a vacation felt like admitting weakness.

Then burnout hit me like a freight train when I was 38. Chronic migraines. Insomnia that left me staring at the ceiling at 3 AM. My body was screaming what my mind refused to hear.

What finally clicked for me was this: rest isn't something you earn after you've worked hard enough. It's what makes the work possible in the first place. Your body isn't a machine you can override indefinitely with willpower and coffee.

Now I take rest seriously. Not as a reward, but as a requirement.

2) You can't think your way out of every problem

Here's something nobody tells analytical people: sometimes your biggest strength becomes your biggest limitation.

I spent years trying to logic my way through emotional problems. Feeling anxious? I'd make a list of rational reasons why everything was fine. Feeling sad? I'd analyze the root causes and create an action plan.

It wasn't until therapy that I realized intellect can be a defense mechanism against actually feeling things. And let me tell you, that realization was uncomfortable as hell.

Some things need to be felt, not solved. Grief doesn't care about your logical arguments. Anxiety doesn't respond to spreadsheets. Sometimes you just have to sit with the discomfort and let it move through you.

3) Your parents' version of success doesn't have to be yours

This one took me embarrassingly long to figure out.

I spent almost 20 years in finance, partly because I was good at it, but mostly because it fit the definition of success I'd internalized from my achievement-oriented parents. Good salary, impressive job title, the kind of career you could brag about at family gatherings.

The problem? I was miserable.

When I finally left to pursue writing full-time, my mother's reaction said everything. She still introduces me as "my daughter who worked in finance" rather than "my daughter the writer." 

You get one life. Spending it chasing someone else's idea of achievement is a tragedy.

4) Boundaries aren't mean, they're necessary

Want to know when I started setting real boundaries? When I was so burned out that I literally had no choice.

Before that, I said yes to everything. Extra projects at work. Social commitments I didn't want to attend. Helping people who never returned the favor. I thought being accommodating made me a good person.

Actually, it just made me exhausted and resentful.

Boundaries aren't about building walls around yourself. They're about having enough respect for your own time and energy to protect them. When you start saying no to things that drain you, you create space for things that actually matter.

The people who get upset about your boundaries are usually the ones who were benefiting from you not having any.

5) Making good money won't automatically make you happy

I made excellent money in my finance career. Six figures. Bonuses. The whole package.

And I was deeply, profoundly unhappy.

Don't get me wrong, financial security matters. I'm not going to sit here and pretend money doesn't solve real problems, because it absolutely does. But there's a point where more money stops adding to your wellbeing and starts becoming a cage.

I'd used money as a measure of self-worth for so long that when I finally chose to earn less for more meaningful work, I had to completely rebuild my sense of who I was.

The question isn't "how much can I make?" It's "how much do I need to live the life I actually want?"

6) Vulnerability isn't weakness

I met my husband Marcus at a trail running event five years ago. Our early relationship was great, but something was missing.

Turns out, that something was me actually being vulnerable.

I'd spent so long believing that asking for help meant weakness, that needing support was a character flaw. I was great at being strong, terrible at being real. It took couples therapy to help me understand that vulnerability isn't the same as being vulnerable to harm.

The people worth having in your life won't use your openness against you. And the ones who do? They're showing you exactly who they are.

Real connection requires risk. You can't build intimacy while keeping all your walls up.

7) Perfectionism is exhausting and pointless

I discovered journaling when I was 36. I've filled 47 notebooks since then with reflections and observations, and you want to know what I see when I flip back through the early ones?

Someone who was absolutely miserable trying to be perfect.

Perfectionism isn't about having high standards. It's about being terrified of being seen as anything less than flawless. It's a defense mechanism, a way to avoid criticism by criticizing yourself first.

Learning about "good enough" changed my life. Not in a lowering-your-standards way, but in a this-is-actually-fine-and-I-can-move-on way.

Perfect doesn't exist. Chasing it just means you're never satisfied with anything you do.

8) Adult friendships require intentional effort

Here's something they don't tell you about your thirties: making and keeping friends gets harder.

After I left my job, I lost most of my work colleagues as friends. Turned out we had a shared context, not a real connection. That stung more than I expected.

Building genuine friendships as an adult requires something that feels awkward at first: intentional effort and vulnerability. You have to reach out. You have to make plans. You have to actually show up, not just text "we should hang out sometime."

I joined a trail running group and a women's writing group, and those connections became some of my most meaningful relationships. But they didn't happen accidentally. They happened because I made space for them and put in the work.

Friendship isn't something that just happens to you after a certain age. It's something you have to actively create.

9) "Good enough" is actually good enough

This might be the hardest one, especially if you grew up as a "gifted kid" like I did.

I spent decades believing that anything worth doing was worth doing exceptionally. Average was failure. Good enough was settling. Excellence was the only acceptable outcome.

That mindset will grind you into dust.

Most things in life don't require excellence. They require adequacy. They require showing up and doing a decent job and then moving on with your life. Giving 100% to everything means you're giving nothing the focused attention it actually needs.

Some things deserve your best effort. Most things just need to get done.

Learning to distinguish between the two isn't lowering your standards. It's wisdom.

Final thoughts

The honest truth? I'm glad I didn't have all these insights at 25.

Some lessons only land when you're ready for them. Some wisdom only makes sense after you've made the mistakes. I needed those years to understand what I was really working toward. I needed the burnout to force me to confront patterns I'd spent a lifetime building.

But if you're reading this and something resonates, maybe you can skip a few years of unnecessary suffering. Maybe you can start setting boundaries now instead of waiting until you're completely depleted. Maybe you can choose the life you actually want instead of the one you think you're supposed to want.

The best time to figure this stuff out was ten years ago. The second best time is right now.