Lines Between Living

I recently finished reading Veronika Decides to Die by Paulo Coelho, and it left me sitting with myself in a way very few books ever have. On the surface, it’s a story about a young woman who attempts to end her life, but beneath the pages, it’s about something far deeper  the raw, terrifying, exhilarating art of truly living.

What struck me wasn’t Veronika’s decision to die it was what happened after. When she believed she had only days left, she stopped holding back.

She did the things she never dared. She spoke the words she’d once swallowed. She allowed herself to feel deeply, unapologetically, even recklessly because in her mind, there was nothing left to lose. And in that space of nothing-to-lose, she discovered everything she had been missing.

It made me ask myself a hard question: What would I do differently if I believed my time was short? Would I still silence myself for the comfort of others?

Would I still chase people who never meet me halfway? Would I still cling to jobs, roles, or identities that no longer reflect who I am becoming?

The truth is, I’ve already started answering that question without even realizing it. I’ve been releasing people I once clung to, refusing to keep calling and texting and chasing after one-sided connections.

I’ve been quietly untangling myself from versions of me that were built to keep others comfortable. And as I do, something unexpected is happening  I feel lighter. I feel closer to myself than I have in years.

There’s a kind of sacred power in choosing to step back not out of bitterness, but out of self-respect. And with each boundary I set, with each old tie I let go, I feel myself stepping into a new season of life where I’m no longer living to be liked. I’m living to be authentic.

Of course, my story isn’t Veronika’s. I have responsibilities, roots, people I love deeply. I can’t drop everything and run away. But that doesn’t mean I can’t choose to live differently.

I can stop giving my energy to what drains me. I can choose peace over people-pleasing. I can live like I have nothing to lose not because life is ending, but because it’s far too precious to waste.

Maybe that’s what midlife is supposed to feel like  not a crisis, but an awakening. A point where you stop numbing and start noticing, where you stop surviving and start living. It’s messy and scary and beautifully uncertain, but it’s also deeply liberating.

I don’t have all the answers yet but I do know this: I’m done existing on autopilot.

I’m ready to live with intention, to take risks that scare me, to build a life that doesn’t require an escape plan. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the lesson of this book it was teaching us all along that the life we crave isn’t waiting somewhere far away.

It’s waiting for us to choose it, right here, right now.