You had no idea how beautiful you were in your youth. Not the dishonest beauty of glossy magazine covers, but the inherent beauty in the promise of the life ahead of you.

What did you do with that person, who had so much to offer to the world? You hid her behind the security blanket of convention and expectation. You allowed life to steer you around the course, and you excused yourself by saying you were too this, or too that. Was it arrogance or reticence that led you to this grey world that you now inhabit? Did you really believe that there was a plan for you? You waited for life to come to you. You thought that you were being adventurous by volunteering in India, by climbing mountains in Nepal, by travelling alone through south-east Asia. Let me tell you: it was a token effort. You were so caught up in yourself that the thought of what you could do to make an impact on the world barely crossed your mind.

You allowed the treadmill to carry you along, and you slumped into a comfortable life

You got back from your travels and you took a job. Just like that. You didn’t think of searching for your passions; you didn’t think about your contribution to the world; you didn’t think about how you would spend this precious life of yours. You didn’t think at all. You found a boyfriend. You married him. You bought a flat. You had babies. You worked hard and you patted yourself on the back and told yourself that that was success.

You allowed the treadmill to carry you along, and you slumped into a comfortable life.

You didn’t make a plan for yourself. You wasted your intelligence, your education, your stable family background. You let life happen to you, and you didn’t take control. Did you think that the world owed it to you to make life interesting? Did you really think that you were special? The arrogance and naivety were equally balanced.

Now you look at others – those brave, adventurous, engaged, passionate, resilient people who were once your peers – and you are inspired, humbled and feel so terribly inadequate. You built a house around yourself and filled it with the comfortable and the conventional and now you’re wondering if there’s a key to get out. If there is, it’s unlikely you’ll get to it soon because you have responsibilities – the children, the husband and the home that you wanted so much.

Your husband’s career has taken off. Once you were equal. Your own career became just a job as you took on responsibility for the children. You prided yourself on keeping career and family going but you haven’t, actually: your career has ground to a slow and mind-numbing trudge. You have made the lives of your children and husband as perfect as possible and this is what you wanted. You are happy with that, but in doing so you disappear into the grey.

Now, at fortysomething, you have so many ideas about things you’d like to do. There is a yearning for a life not fully lived, a potential not realised. You look at your beautiful children and see the promise in the life ahead of them. And you mourn a life wasted. You have tied yourself up in the conventional life, when you could have gone out into the world. People will humour you when you sign up for a new course or take up a new hobby, for what can a fortysomething, working mother of three really offer? You have homework to supervise, dinner to cook, socks to wash, a conference call to prepare for.

It’s too late now to be the person you should have been. You have nobody to blame but yourself.

Anonymous

We’d love to hear your stories



• We will pay £25 for every Letter to (please write about 600-700 words), Playlist, Snapshot or We love to eat we publish. Write to Family Life, The Guardian, Kings Place, 90 York Way, London N1 9GU or email family@theguardian.com. Please include your address and phone number. We are only able to reply to those whose contributions we are going to use