Last year, I sat in my office staring at the three monitors on my desk. On the screens were my online bank accounts — all of which were channeling Whoopi Goldberg’s character from the movie “Ghost.”
“You in danger, girl,” they seemed to be saying, mocking me.
I spent decades building a career, collecting titles, degrees, and glowing reviews. Yet the numbers on my bank statements told a different story. The stability I assumed would come with age and experience kept slipping through my fingers, and I realized there’s a thin line between “doing well” and “barely holding on.”
I came of age believing that if I worked hard enough, stayed loyal, and continued to improve, stability would naturally follow. Instead, at 52, I’m still struggling financially and facing debt.
I built a stable life, but then I faced a medical issue
For nearly 20 years, I served as an educator and instructional coach in Atlanta. My career felt solid. My reputation was earned. My work mattered. I believed I was building something that would carry me comfortably into the second half of my life.
Then 2018 arrived. Three months after my 45th birthday, a sudden heart attack and complications led to permanent disability. Suddenly, in a profession where I was once well respected, I found myself being ghosted after interviews. Months turned into years, and even though I am married, I racked up credit card debt to stay afloat.
By the time I reached my 50s, I felt like I was starting from scratch, even though I had dedicated two decades of my life to a job that once felt stable.
I then landed a great job, but I was still struggling
Thankfully, in 2022, after a brief stint as an online instructor for a virtual high school, I finally caught my break. I landed a government contracting role with the CDC, where I used my background in teaching and writing to begin a new career as an instructional designer and communications specialist.
I earned more than I ever had, and I was able to tackle some of the debt with a plan in place. That should’ve felt like success. Some days it did.
Other days, it felt like I was trying to empty water from a rowboat with holes in it. My student loan balance was still in the six figures, the debt from my years of unemployment lingered, and my savings were minimal.
The government shutdown shook my confidence
Last year’s 43-day federal shutdown shook my financial situation even more. Many contractors like me did not receive back pay, and each day without work felt like slipping into the same uncertainty I was still clawing my way out of.
I kept thinking, “I just got steady. How am I right back in danger of sliding under?”
I have endured multiple recessions and life-altering crises, but I’m still not financially stable enough to retire. I was frustrated.
My midlife pivot has taught me a lot
I do not want another reset at 52. I want the stability I grew up believing was a natural reward for hard work. Nevertheless, I have learned a few truths.
First, reinvention is not a luxury for a Gen Xer like me; it’s my survival skill. I’ve reminded myself how many times I’ve had to rebuild my career. Sometimes it was because I failed, and other times it was because I had to do what I had to do.
Second, credentials and experience are valuable, but they do not guarantee protection. I hold multiple degrees, possess decades of leadership experience, and have a distinguished professional record. But I still faced long-term unemployment, medical crises, and debt.
Third, financial recovery in midlife can be a slow process. That doesn’t mean I am irresponsible. It means life happened to me in ways my younger self could never have predicted.
Moving forward, even with uncertainty
The shutdown ended, but so did my contract. I am unemployed again. My debt is still there. My savings are still small. My concern about the next unexpected disruption remains very real. Yet I am choosing to move forward anyway. My skills have not disappeared. They’ve just been refined, so I’ll repurpose them again.
Stability at this age looks nothing like what I imagined in my 20s. Instead, it looks like adapting quickly and refusing to give up on myself. It looks like rebuilding (again) one day at a time.
I do not know how this season will end. I only know I’m still learning how to navigate a future I never imagined having to rebuild. But I’m still here. For now, that will have to suffice.
