Kath Cheng|Her MidWay mentors midlife women, but not because she set out to. It began as her own quiet questioning, that low-level restlessness so many of us try to dismiss because nothing is technically wrong. Her life looked fine from the outside: responsible, steady, sensible. And yet something inside her kept whispering, “Is this it?“ As she started listening, women around her began saying, “I feel that too”, and what she thought was personal became something shared. Kath is now in the season of waking up: seeing old narratives clearly, recognising how easily we shrink ourselves, and understanding that this work is bigger than her. A calling to help women remember there is more available in midlife: more purpose, more passion, more possibility.
Who are you, and what season of midlife are you in right now?
I’m Kath. I mentor midlife women, but none of this was planned. What began as my own personal journey, where I was quietly questioning where I was in life, and wanting something more which I couldn’t fully name, slowly grew into something bigger than me. Women started saying, “I feel that too.” And I realised this wasn’t just my awakening. It was a shared one.
I am in the season where I have woken up. I can see the old narratives for what they are. I can see how easily we shrink ourselves. And although I resisted stepping forward at first, I now recognise that this isn’t about me anymore. It’s a calling. To help women in midlife see that there is more available to them, more purpose, more passion, and more possibility, if they choose it. Because we all deserve “more”
What surprised you most about midlife or menopause?
What surprised me most was realising how long I’d been living inside a box and not even knowing it. From the outside, everything looked fine. I was responsible. Safe. Doing what made sense. I could easily have stayed there, comfortably contained in a life that ticked all the right boxes. But I wasn’t truly living. I wasn’t thriving. I was surviving, and I genuinely thought that was the aim. I thought life was about keeping everything steady, being grateful, getting to the end, having done it “well.” Then I started to feel restless, is this it in life?
At first, it felt uncomfortable, even confusing. Nothing was “wrong.” My life wasn’t bad. I appreciated it. So why did something feel off?
Now I see that quiet dissatisfaction was a sign that I was ready for something more. That was my defining moment. If I hadn’t explored the restlessness and confusion, I might have carried on, none the wiser, never discovering this entirely new chapter of possibility I’m living now.
More people talk about the changes in our body dealing with the menopause and less about the mental challenges in midlife, which is where a lot of us suffer in silence. We’re taught to suck it up, don’t draw attention to yourself.
Realising that there’s more in midlife surprised me and excited me at the same time.
What’s been the hardest part that people don’t talk about?
How lonely it can feel, even when you’re surrounded by people who love you.
When you begin questioning your life, or admitting that something inside you wants more, it can unsettle others. Especially family. Long-term friends. The people who know you as the version you’ve always been.
I’ve had moments where sharing how I felt was met with confusion, almost concern, as if wanting something different meant I was having a crisis moment: “Why can’t you just be happy? Why rock the boat?” And after a while, I learned to say less, I started wondering if maybe I was being dramatic; “Maybe I should just be grateful and get on with it.” That quiet self-doubt can be the hardest part.
What has helped you most (a habit, a mindset shift, support, HRT or no HRT, community)?
Undoubtedly, community. Finding other women who are also questioning, expanding, and redefining what this chapter means has changed everything for me. There’s something powerful about being in rooms or conversations where you don’t have to explain your restlessness. Where wanting more isn’t judged, it’s understood. We support each other. We reflect back possibilities to one another. We remind each other that growth isn’t a crisis, it’s evolution.
Our family and long-term friends often love us deeply… but they’re used to who we’ve been. Sometimes it simply takes them longer to understand who we’re becoming. And that’s okay.
One thing I’ve learned is to be discerning about where I share my dreams. In the early stages, they’re fragile. They don’t need debate or doubt; they need space to breathe. Not everyone is meant to understand your vision immediately. Some things are just for you until they’re strong enough to stand on their own, and protecting that early spark can make all the difference.
What are you unlearning?
I’ve had to unlearn the belief that being grateful meant I couldn’t want more. I’m deeply grateful for the stability and security our family business has given us. But gratitude and desire can exist together. Wanting more for myself doesn’t cancel out appreciation. It simply acknowledges that I’m still growing.
I’ve also had to unlearn the idea of “waiting for the perfect time”. Waiting for the children to leave home. Waiting for the shop to sell. Waiting for the right time, waiting to feel certain.
At some point, I realised certainty often only comes with hindsight. If I kept waiting to feel completely ready, I would never begin, and perhaps the hardest thing to unlearn was the need to remain the version of me everyone else felt comfortable with.
For years, I was the responsible one. I fixed things. I was mum, always there to sort things out. Kept the peace, the one who didn’t rock the boat, but it also kept me small.
When I started choosing myself in midlife, not everyone understood. From the outside, a woman shifting can look unsettling. I was questioning long-standing patterns. I wasn’t automatically prioritising what was expected of me anymore. That creates unease. People like clear plans. Reassurance. Certainty. But I didn’t have all the answers. I just knew I couldn’t stay where I was.
So I’ve had to become comfortable saying, “I’m still figuring it out.” Without shame. Without over-explaining. Without shrinking to make others feel settled. Growth is messy before it becomes clear. And if you wait until you can articulate every step perfectly, you never move. Learning to sit with that discomfort, theirs and mine, has been one of the biggest releases of all.
What do you wish you could tell your 35-year-old self?
Trust the quiet voice sooner. You don’t have to wait until everything lines up neatly, and don’t build your life purely from logic. Leave space for desire. The things your heart wants aren’t random. They’re clues.
What do you want other women to know they’re not alone in?
Many of us in midlife feel quietly called toward something we can’t yet fully name. You can love your life and still feel the pull for more; that doesn’t make you selfish, it makes you alive.
What’s one small ritual or practice that’s keeping you steady in your daily life?
Noticing how I feel today. And asking “What do I need right now?” And honouring it. It might be taking an intentional pause, having a chat with a friend, or going for a walk.
What Kath names so beautifully is the emotional truth of midlife change: it can feel lonely, even when you’re loved. Because when you start evolving, the people who know you as the old version may feel unsettled. Wanting more gets misread as ingratitude, or worse, a crisis. And then the self-doubt creeps in: maybe I should just be grateful and get on with it. Kath’s antidote is community and discernment. Finding women who don’t need you to justify your restlessness, who understand that growth isn’t a breakdown, it’s evolution. And learning to protect your dreams while they’re still tender, before they’re strong enough to stand on their own.
Her biggest unlearning is one I know will land for a lot of women: gratitude and desire can exist together. You don’t have to stay small to be a good person. You don’t have to wait for the perfect time to begin. And you don’t have to over-explain the fact that you’re still figuring it out. Midlife doesn’t ask for a flawless plan. It asks for honesty and a willingness to listen to the quiet voice inside you. Even if the next step is small: what do I need right now, today, and can I honour it?
If you’d like to be part of the ‘5 Minutes With…’ series, or you know a woman whose voice would feel like medicine here, email me at hello@kiransinghuk.com. And if you’re reading this thinking, same, tell me in the comments: what are you unlearning in midlife?
