I’ve been doing this series for a while now. And every so often, an answer arrives that makes everything else go quiet.
Lori Hartwell did that.
Founder of the Renal Support Network, creator of Paws for Hope, founder of Studio Hope Boutique, and a woman who has had kidney failure since the age of two. Thirteen years on dialysis. Four transplants. A body that the medical establishment, more than once, did not expect to survive.
And she is turning sixty this summer.
I want to sit with that for a moment. Because what Lori represents in this series is something quietly extraordinary. Most of us come to midlife carrying the ordinary weight of life, the accumulated grief, the identity shifts, the hormonal upheaval, the relationships that changed shape. And all of that is real and worth honouring.
But Lori has arrived at this decade having fought, literally and repeatedly, just to be here. Her most surprising thing about her fifties? That she made it to them. She was never supposed to live very long. And she did. She built a life, and then several more, and then a community, and then another community, and then a boutique thrift shop in Burbank where neighbours can meet, decompress, and shop for something that matters.
She is not surviving anymore. She is creating.
What I loved most in Lori’s answers is the lightness in them. The wisdom that doesn’t announce itself. The woman who has been through more than most of us will ever face, and whose advice includes, without apology, choosing the ice cream.
I think that tells you everything.
Who are you, and what season of life are you in?
I’m a survivor, and I feel as if I’ve lived many lives.
What surprised you most about your 50s?
I was most surprised to make it to my 50s because I was never supposed to live very long. Along the way, I stopped believing everyone thinks the same way I do, so I’ve learned to communicate as clearly and honestly as I can; people are not mind readers.
One thing you’ve stopped doing (and you’re better for it):
One thing I no longer do is compare myself to others. We are all unique, with our own strengths and challenges.
One thing you’re choosing instead:
I’ve also learned that if there’s an ice cream option for dessert, choose it; you’ll never be disappointed.
One boundary you now honour, no apology:
I insist on being treated like a person with a mind, not judged like the cover of a book. I will not be diminished, ignored, or discounted in my knowledge of the body and health.
One micro-decision that changed everything:
Choices are everything because they define you. Early in life, I chose to dare to dream and follow what my heart wanted me to do.
One practice that keeps you steady:
Arts and crafts keep me steady. They quiet my mind, help me relax, and bring me peace.
One belief about midlife you no longer subscribe to:
One belief I no longer hold onto is that friends are forever. Sometimes people come into our lives for a season, and that’s okay.
The best thing about being in your 50s:
One of the best things about being in my 50s is making my pediatric doctors smile.
Complete this: At 50+, I am…
At 50, I know myself better than I ever did before, flaws and all, and I’m okay with that. I want people to know that I have lived, learned, survived, and grown into someone who values authenticity, compassion, creativity, and choice. I may not be perfect, but I am fully myself.
This week, I want women turning 50 to remember:
Life is a gift, that is why they call it the present.
My Note to My Future Self
What stays with me most from Lori’s answers is the boundary she names so clearly and without flinching. That she will not be reduced to a diagnosis. Will not be dismissed or discounted when it comes to her knowledge of her own body and her own health. After a lifetime of navigating medical systems as a patient, as a woman, as someone whose body has been discussed, debated, and managed by others, she has entirely reclaimed that authority.
I insist on being treated like a person with a mind, not judged like the cover of a book.
That line belongs everywhere.
I also loved her refrain around friendship. That not everyone is meant to stay. That some people come for a season, and that is not failure; it is just the honest rhythm of a life fully lived. There is such grace in that. In releasing the expectation that love has to be permanent to have been real.
And her closing: “Life is a gift, that’s why they call it the present,” landed differently coming from Lori than it might from anyone else. Because she has known, more intimately than most, what it means to almost not have it. And she has chosen, anyway, every time, to come back to the present. To dare to dream. To choose ice cream. To make her paediatric doctors smile at sixty.
That is not just resilience. That is a whole philosophy of living.
You can find out more about Lori Hartwell here:
If you’re following along this week:
My Stop: Where am I still comparing myself to others, their timelines, their bodies, their lives?
My Start: Where have I been waiting for permission to follow what my heart is asking me to do?
My Boundary: Where am I allowing myself to be reduced, dismissed, or spoken over, and what would it feel like to hold firm?
My Micro-decision: What is one small choice I keep deferring that actually defines something important about who I am?
My Practice: Where in my life do I need more quiet, the kind that arts and crafts and gentle creativity can bring?
Journal prompt: If I truly believed that life is a gift and that this present moment is all I’m guaranteed, what would I stop postponing? And what would I choose, right now, simply because it brings me joy?