Because sometimes growth isn’t about gaining—it’s about rising above what no longer serves. And thank goodness, because my mental storage was getting full anyway.
Early this month, I was invited to an event hosted by the Polish embassy and the dress code was business or national dress. I was initially keen on the idea of wearing a krakowiak for the first time until my Polish friend said that what the invite really means is to wear formal business attire. I went into my closet and found one of my pantsuits—still pristine, still smelling faintly of ambition and boardroom confidence. As I tried it on to make sure it still fit, a thought bubbled up: “I don’t need to be this person anymore.” It wasn’t sad or nostalgic. It was freeing. Like exhaling after holding my breath for decades without realizing it.
That’s when it hit me—I’ve not just been Marie Kondo-ing my closet, but also my entire belief system.
The most liberating discovery of midlife isn’t what you gain, but what you finally have the courage to release.
In a world constantly telling us to acquire more—more skills, more possessions, more streaming subscriptions—there’s profound power in the deliberate practice of letting go. It’s decluttering your belief system, but without having to thank each outdated notion before showing it the door.
Here are a few of my recent un-learnings. Maybe you’ll recognize some of your own.
1. I need to go somewhere new to learn something new.
Then: I chased planes, projects, and new places. Growth, to me, was movement—new cities, new cultures, new overseas assignments. The more you moved, the more you got ahead. My passport got more stamps than my coffee loyalty card.
Now: The radical truth is, I’ve discovered that stillness is teaching me more profoundly. I’ve found a deep, grounding peace in the simplicity of my daily routines. This has been a true work in progress: I was talking to my husband about planning our next overseas trip and he blurted: “We’ve travelled so much—why can’t we stay still?” (I then quietly closed the tab ‘best places to escape the scorching heat of Manila’ but that’s beside the point.)
Your turn: What wisdom might already exist in your daily routines that you’ve been too busy seeking elsewhere to notice?
2. If you want to lose weight, you need to exercise.
Then: Exercise was about burn and balance and was a tool to undo the previous day’s indulgence. In my mind, I was entitled to eat that Chickenjoy because I was anyway just on the treadmill. But when I did eat that Chickenjoy, I would be angry at myself for doing so. My relationship with exercise was like a not so healthy relationship of debits and credits —the constant tally of calories consumed vs. burned felt less like health and more like a never-ending math problem where the scale was the ultimate quizmaster and I was getting every question wrong.
Now: I exercise not to lose weight but to gain longevity. Every walk, lift, and stretch is now an investment towards future mobility and independence. Counting calories has shifted to tracking nutrition. My relationship with the gym and with food is now like my marriage – you have to work at it every day — but well worth it.
Your turn: How might you treat your physical self if you were preparing for a life-long friendship rather than a weekend beach trip?
3. I’m successful because of my titles, designations, and awards.
Then: My worth was measured by what I developed, signed off, or completed. I wore my achievements like armor—proof of competence, relevance, and effort. My LinkedIn bio was longer than some novels I’ve read.
Now: Not everything needs to be monetized or optimized. I’ve given myself metaphorical badges for collecting new kinds of skills — just for me. A badge for learning how to use AI without accidentally deleting my hard drive. Another for bedazzling a Sanrio character just because. These aren’t for public display, but they matter more to me now.
Your turn: What personal achievements have meant the most to you that wouldn’t fit on a resume?
4. Being a good friend means you’re always on ‘their’ side.
Then: I used to think that being a good friend meant unquestioning loyalty – taking their side in any disagreement and defending their actions to others without question.
Now: Friendship involves a balance of support and honesty. Being a good friend means holding them accountable, and sometimes telling them what they need to hear, not just what they want to hear. It’s about supporting their growth, even if it’s uncomfortable, and even if it means them wanting to not have anything to do with you.
Your turn: Think about a time when you prioritized being ‘on someone’s side’ over offering honest, constructive feedback. How might the situation have been different if you’d balanced support with candor?
5. Retirement means doing nothing.
Then: I feared not being employed full-time would be the void after the storm. My identity was very strongly wrapped around my corporate career and I dreaded not being able to let that go. Would I be that person who finds herself talking to houseplants and who also develops strong opinions about the right thread count for bedsheets?
Now: I laugh thinking, how did I ever have time for a full-time job? I’m creating, consulting, learning, and debating with my husband/co-founder with great zeal and purpose. And yes, I do talk to my houseplants, but they’re excellent listeners and unlike my husband, don’t talk back.
Your turn: What passions have you back-burnered that could become central to your identity after the job title no longer applies?
The Rise After the Release
Unlearning is the quiet revolution of midlife—less dramatic than a crisis, more powerful than a resolution. It’s not the climb of ambition, but the lift of clarity. It’s like finally taking off that uncomfortable bra at the end of a long day, but for your brain.
Try this: Identify one belief that once served you well but now feels constraining. What would become possible if you no longer held this as absolute truth? Imagine the lightness you’d feel if it were finally released.
We usually scribble learnings on a page and then file them away for future use.
This time, try something different: jot down your unlearnings as notes on your phone… and then delete them. Because sometimes, it’s not about remembering more, it’s about forgetting better. This is not just freeing up mental storage space but also about the brave art of letting go of what no longer serves.
Carlos Vargas Gierke
