I write these words one week before gallbladder surgery, near the end of another summer.
If I’m honest, I’d prefer none of this was necessary.
Over the last few days, I’ve caught myself daydreaming about how things used to be. Not childhood. My early twenties—when my body seemed capable of just about anything. I could eat what I wanted, recover overnight, and rarely thought about doctors or medical procedures. I didn’t fully appreciate the ease of those years at the time.
But that isn’t an option. Those days aren’t coming back.
So I started thinking about a second option: What if I could stay exactly where I am today, only with a perfectly functioning gallbladder? No surgery. No recovery. No interruption.
I’d gladly choose that option. But it isn’t available either.
What was true in the past is no longer true
Which leaves me with what I’ve started calling my third option.
And that third option is simply this: accepting reality.
It’s acknowledging that what was true in the past is no longer true, and what I wish were true today simply isn’t. Once those two options disappear, I’m left with a choice. I can spend my energy denying reality, or I can embrace it and do the hard thing.
And you can, too.
For me, the hard thing means walking into a hospital, getting hooked up to an IV, trusting a surgical team, and allowing them to remove an organ I wish were still doing its job.
I’d much rather choose another path.
But there isn’t one.
As I’ve reflected on all of this, I’ve wondered if this is one of the defining characteristics of midlife. When we’re young, our minds naturally look forward. We assume tomorrow will bring more strength, more opportunity, more capability.
Somewhere along the way, that begins to change.
You find yourself remembering how things used to be. You notice your body changing. You wonder what other parts of aging are quietly waiting around the corner.
The gifts of midlife and maturity
That sounds more depressing than I actually believe.
Because the truth is, midlife brings gifts too.
You watch your children become young adults. You experience some of the most meaningful years of your career. You have enough wisdom to appreciate relationships and, if you’re fortunate, enough means to create memories—like taking your family on a trip to Europe.
Life isn’t getting worse.
It’s just different.
And perhaps that’s exactly what the third option teaches us.
Life will never be exactly as it once was. It also won’t always be what we hoped it would be today. But there is surprising freedom in accepting the road in front of us instead of longing for the roads that no longer exist.
Maybe that’s what maturity really looks like: Not pretending the hard thing isn’t hard or wishing endlessly for a different reality, but simply taking the next faithful step.
And perhaps that’s what leaders do, too. They don’t wait for ideal circumstances. They accept reality, step toward it with courage, and invite others to do the same.