Midlife Stories - Tom Stroud Transcript

INTRODUCTION

Tom Stroud: Self-worth, belief in myself, my own self-image, right? It's something I’ve played with my whole career. I trace that stuff back to my childhood and my dad not being around.

Post-show, I’ve been given a platform. Firstly, that platform is something I’ve chosen to use in a slightly different way to what your typical reality TV star might have done.

Masculinity is about men understanding how to provide for themselves and doing the work to understand who they are and what they can bring to themselves. Ultimately, that’s going to improve their relationships with everyone around them.

Gender is becoming polarised, and it’s dangerous because people are forgetting that you can fight for equality, for women’s rights, for more representation in leadership roles, and for closing the gender pay gap, while still not forgetting about men. It’s not binary.

Paul Sutton: In August this year, Tom Stroud took part in the Netflix reality TV series Love Is Blind UK. But whereas many reality TV stars set out to become social media influencers or presenters, Tom has turned down brand deals in favour of using his platform to talk about the challenges of modern masculinity. It’s a topic that drew him after public feedback from the show, and one he is passionate about.

Tom says he’s observed that many men are scared to speak up about masculinity for fear of being branded as misogynistic, leaving the door open for extremists. He says that having his own views come under intense scrutiny has caused him to evaluate why he believes what he does.

On today’s show, Tom shares his story, talking about what’s behind his views on the role of men and why he feels like a different person when discussing something so closely aligned with his personal values.

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PS: I'm Paul Sutton, and this is Middle Man, the show for midlife men and the people who love them.

EPISODE

PS: So, we’ve known each other for, I don’t know, quite a few years now, Tom. I’ve become increasingly aware that maybe I should be calling you “Love Is Blind Tom,” because that’s how I seem to see you everywhere now.

I’m kind of intrigued because your life seems to be moving in a slightly different direction to the one I’ve always known you for since being on that show. Why do you think that is? What’s prompted this change of direction? If that’s not too grand a question?

TS: I suppose it’s partly necessity and environment, right? Post-show, I’ve been given a platform. Firstly, that’s the most important thing to say. I think maybe because of my age—I was the oldest cast member on it—but also because of my understanding of myself, my values, and the stuff that gives me purpose and, ultimately, drives my happiness.

That platform is something I’ve chosen to use in a slightly different way to what your typical reality TV star might have done. So, you know, there’s no BoohooMAN deal coming for me. But I’ve used it as an opportunity—much like you’ve done, Paul—to firstly communicate my views and my learnings around things like masculinity, mental health, and relationships.

More importantly, I want to allow other people to see that as a guy who’s been in the public eye and who might fit a certain archetype, I’m just a normal guy being open about my struggles with my identity and my ability to form relationships. A lot of that is rooted in things that have happened in my life.

PS: Have you felt any responsibility with that platform since your followers skyrocketed after the show? I mean, it strikes me that you might, but I’m not sure many reality TV personalities would. What’s your view on that? Have you felt that responsibility?

TS: You have to. Maybe it’s because I work in this industry a little bit, but my view—and the reason why I started putting out that kind of content—was that, yeah, I’m not going to be grandiose and say someone who follows you off the back of a Netflix show is hanging on your every word. But you have to respect that they’ve seen you, bought into your storyline, and are following you for a reason.

There’s a responsibility to at least be authentic on this platform. More importantly, you shouldn’t disseminate information that might leave people worse off after engaging with your profile or social media in general. That’s my whole thing—I just want people to have better relationships, with themselves and with others. If I keep that in mind, it guides the content I share.

PS: So, what caused the introspection you’ve been having recently? Did that start before you went on the show, or was it afterwards? What’s prompted all this reflection?

TS: I mean, I’ve always been very aware of myself, particularly of some of my more damaging, negative, or toxic behaviours—whether that’s in my relationship with myself or with others. I started therapy when I was 32 because I was struggling. I was struggling with who I was and, ultimately, with liking myself. Being interested in yourself is really important—not in an egotistical way, but quite the opposite. It’s about wanting to have less of an ego, being less concerned with what other people think, and just being happier with yourself.

PS: Thirty-two is quite early, at least to me, to be dealing with a crisis of identity. Mine didn’t hit for another 10 or 15 years after that, at least. So, 32 seems pretty young to be thinking about knowing yourself and struggling with your identity.

TS: I don’t know. When I think about it, I wish I’d known earlier, that I’d had these realisations earlier. But yeah, the only thing that drove me as a young man was status. That’s why I got into the world of PR in London. I was very driven and probably didn’t treat people that well. I was so obsessed with my own view of myself, with my ego. I was always ambitious and often told I was difficult to work with.

PS: Really? That doesn’t match up with the person I’ve known. I don’t know how long it’s been—seven or eight years, maybe—but that doesn’t align with the person I know.

TS: Right, right. It’s interesting. Maybe it’s because you’ve known me in the second half of my career. Perhaps I’ve changed a bit. Also, the way you present yourself to others often depends on who you’re interacting with. I’ve always found you to be an amiable guy, easy to get on with. So maybe you’ve seen a different version of me.

PS: I think there’s some truth to that. There’s definitely an element of portraying a different version of yourself depending on who you’re engaging with. But recently, you’ve been talking a lot about modern masculinity. Was that prompted by what you experienced on the show?

TS: Yeah, very much so. That was the biggest realisation for me. I got caught up in some storylines on the show around gender roles, relationships, financial contributions, and values—how those inform your ability to find the right partner. There was a lot of social media chatter about it, Paul, and not all of it positive.

The challenge with doing a show like that, which goes out to an audience of 60 million people worldwide, is that I have certain views informed by my childhood and adult experiences. Having worked in London and been surrounded by women my whole life,

I strongly believe in gender equality and the importance of recognising the challenges women have faced. At the same time, I also believe that if we want true equality, we need to rethink traditional dynamics—like the man earning while the woman stays at home—and embrace a more fluid approach.

On the show, my storyline was about me being a "fair financial contribution" guy versus my fiancée, who had a more traditional mindset. As the show aired, I got a lot of heat from people with her mindset—being called stingy, dusty, and all sorts of things. It was tough.

But to answer your question, what gave me the springboard to talk about modern masculinity was actually during a press junket before the reunion aired. Michelle, who creates a lot of TikTok content, mentioned that I’d been called “feminine” in clips from the show and asked for my perspective.

I said it was the biggest compliment someone could give me—to say I had feminine qualities—because they were referring to things like my ability to listen, empathise, and show compassion.

That was part of a 17-interview press junket, so I didn’t think much of it. But when she released the clip, it blew up. It sparked a really polarised response. Some men were supportive, while others found it insulting to be described as feminine. I found the whole thing hilarious but also deeply interesting. To me, those qualities are integral to who I am, and it’s baffling that some men would find them an insult.

PS: The feedback you were getting—the negative feedback—was that coming from men, on this particular point, or from women?

TS: Mainly women. Mainly women, but women who, I don’t know… I’m going to try and tread carefully with this, but women who live in very traditional households, right? They felt that their whole existence and identity were being threatened by me saying that I really value and cherish a partner who goes out, works, and has drive and ambition—someone I treat as an equal.

They found that quite alienating, and I can understand why. But also, because their husbands or boyfriends live up to much more traditional masculine values, maybe they weren’t seeing that level of compassion and empathy from their partners. Instead of thinking, “That’s the guy my husband should aspire to be,” they were more like, “Nah, that guy’s not like my husband.” It felt more like they were patrolling this stuff as something they needed to defend. That’s something I’ve observed quite a bit.

PS: Did it make you rethink some of your views, the feedback you got?

TS: Good question. A little bit, yeah. I mean, I don’t know. I’ve always tried to stay true to myself, but going through an experience like that really helps you channel and refine your views because it gives you a broader understanding of the mindset of the general public.

It did make me question a lot of things, but ultimately, it hasn’t changed my views so much as it’s made me think more deeply about where those views come from. And that’s actually a good thing, right?

For instance, when I say women often display more strength when it comes to mental health or emotional resilience, that’s because I’ve been around strong women my whole life. Now I stand by that because I genuinely believe it, but I’ve had to reflect on where that belief stems from, and that reflection has only been positive for me.

PS: One of the questions I saw someone throw at you—I don’t know if it landed, but it stood out—was along the lines of, “What gives you the right to talk about the things you’re talking about? To discuss what a man should be like?” I’m going to ask you the same question, because I don’t know what your answer was. So, what gives you the right to speak about this stuff with such confidence and authority?

TS: That’s an interesting one, and you do have to tread a fine line with this. I’m always very clear that I’m not a therapist, and I’m not qualified to talk about in-depth mental health topics or challenges. To answer your question, I’m always careful to say, “This is my point of view based on my experience.” You’re right, though—I do occasionally get messages from therapists or counsellors saying, “What gives you the right? Why do you feel you should give advice to other people? What’s your certification?”

My response is always that it’s dangerous to suggest you need a certificate to give advice or share perspectives. If we required that, instead of democratising these conversations, we’d make them even more exclusive with higher barriers to access.

For me, mental health is about reaching people who might not otherwise have access to these discussions. I’m lucky—I have a well-paying job and can afford therapy. But not everyone has that privilege. I’ve always focused on sharing insights that might resonate with people and help them reflect on their own lives. That’s what drives me.

PS: One of the things you’ve been working on recently is a walking group called Shoulder to Shoulder. I’ve told you before, I think the branding of this is brilliant. It comes from research, I think, which says that men don’t tend to talk face-to-face about meaningful topics. To open up, they need to be side-by-side, not face-to-face.

When I read that research, it reminded me of a party I went to a while back. I was chatting with this guy I kind of know—not a friend, but an acquaintance. I was facing him directly, but he kept moving to my side, so we were at a 45-degree angle. I’d move to face him again, and he’d shift back to my side. We practically went in circles trying to have this conversation! I’d forgotten about it until I read that research, and then I thought, “Ah, so that’s what was going on.” I find that fascinating. What did you think about the research when you first saw it?

TS: Yeah, I’ve read the same research, and honestly, the idea for Shoulder to Shoulder came from a mix of intuition and that research—nothing more profound than that. From my experience, men find it really hard to have face-to-face conversations, whether it’s with another man, which is often the hardest, or even on dates. The best example is men playing golf. They’ll walk side-by-side for kilometres on a golf course, and that’s when they really open up.

I experienced something similar on a stag do in the Scottish Highlands for my best mate. It wasn’t your typical stag do. Sure, we got drunk in the evenings, but for the most part, we were hiking. The conversations we had weren’t about the usual stag-do topics—birds, cars, and power drills. Instead, we had 15 guys being genuinely open and vulnerable with each other. It was beautiful and became the inspiration for Shoulder to Shoulder.

The challenge has been getting men involved.

PS: That doesn’t surprise me.

TS: Yeah, initially we thought about making it men-only, but we recognised the challenge, so it’s gender-neutral. The condition is that if a woman wants to join, she has to bring a man with her—whether that’s a partner, friend, or family member. It’s still early days, but we’re hopeful.

PS: If you get 30 people at your first event, that’s not bad at all. Other walking groups might get 10 or 12 people regularly, and they still make a meaningful impact.

TS: Exactly. And like those groups, we introduce topics for discussion. The topic for our next walk is “avoidance,” which can sound quite daunting or alienating to someone unfamiliar with therapy terminology. The idea is to explore why some men avoid emotional intimacy or vulnerability. For example, I’ve always found building romantic relationships challenging because I felt they threatened my independence.

Therapy has helped me recognise those feelings, which often stem from childhood, and instead of avoiding them, I’ve learned to lean into them without fear.

PS: So, with the topic of avoidance and the work you’ve done, do you think it stems from a lack of self-worth?

The reason I ask is that I’ve done a couple of episodes recently focused on self-belief and shame. Both felt quite powerful, and I’ve been reflecting on them. It seems to me that men often reach a certain age where self-worth becomes a problem. Now, you’re younger than me, and we can debate whether you count as middle-aged or not, but have you felt those same feelings of doubt or lack of self-belief?

TS: It’s interesting you say that because self-worth, belief in myself, and my self-image—even things like imposter syndrome—are things I’ve wrestled with my entire career, especially in my 20s.

Back then, I was often labelled as “difficult to work with,” but that came from my insecurities and a relentless desire to get everything right. I never wanted to appear weak or as though I wasn’t doing a good job. I can trace that mindset back to my childhood, to my dad not being around, and how that shaped my approach to the workplace. I became obsessed with being good at everything, almost to protect myself from rejection or criticism.

It’s only in my 30s that I’ve started stepping back and realising that’s not what should be driving me. In fact, the opposite approach—letting go of that need for perfection—has made me better at my job. Ironically, caring less has made me more effective.

PS: I agree with that completely. When you care less, you can see things more objectively.

TS: Exactly. It allows you to take a broader view rather than being hyper-focused on every little detail. And in practical terms, it means you’re less likely to tolerate situations or people that don’t align with your values. For example, in your business, you might come across a client who’s a massive red flag—someone who expects the world for nothing. Recognising that and having the confidence to walk away is a form of self-worth.

For me, self-worth and confidence have improved as I’ve aged, but I think there’s something significant about identity. As you hit different milestones in life, you need to keep redefining yourself. At the moment, I’m a guy in my late 30s working in a trendy PR environment. I’m just about clinging to relevance in that space, but I know it won’t last forever. I joke about it, but the Gen Z crew at the agency might still respect my opinions now, but it’s only a matter of time before they start thinking I’m out of touch or not cool enough to understand them.

PS: That’s an interesting point—this idea of reinventing yourself. It’s something I’ve experienced as well, and I think a lot of men go through it at various stages. It’s tied to this idea of finding purpose and relevance as life evolves.

TS: Absolutely. Reinvention isn’t just about staying relevant; it’s about staying true to yourself while adapting to new circumstances. It’s a continuous process of learning and self-discovery. For me, the work I’ve done on myself—through therapy and these new projects like Shoulder to Shoulder—has been a big part of that. It’s about building better relationships, not just with other people but with myself as well. And I think that’s something we all need to focus on as we navigate the different phases of life.

And that’s what I mean—when you’ve been so focused on your career your whole life, suddenly you start thinking, What is my identity now? And you realise you don’t want to be defined by your career anymore. That was the great thing about the show for me—it gave me a new perspective on my identity and allowed me to focus on work that gives me personal value.

We’ve spoken before, and I’ve read everything you’ve shared about your own struggles. My interpretation, and something I wanted to ask you about, is whether the “silver bullet” is having children. Because once you have kids, isn’t that enough? Isn’t that all you need for an identity—as a father? But I don’t think that’s the case. I’d love to hear your take on it.

PS: No, no, Jesus, no. Anyone who thinks that is in trouble. Christ, how do I answer that? My struggles with depression started long before I had kids. Interestingly, some of the conversations I’ve had recently, on episodes I’ve recorded, have brought up a lot of stuff, and I’m starting to realise where some of it might come from, whereas I hadn’t had a clue before.

Having kids adds a whole extra layer—responsibility, awareness of your behaviour, and what you’re passing on to them. It makes you think about breaking cycles, but that probably goes back generations. It’s difficult to navigate. So no, having kids isn’t a silver bullet.

TS: Would you say that being a father—being a caregiver and nurturer—has helped or hindered your mental health struggles?

PS: If it’s possible, I’d say both. I get a lot from having kids—seeing them happy, successful, and secure. Providing for them, raising them to be well-balanced individuals who feel safe and can talk to us—it’s incredibly rewarding. But kids are also challenging, especially when they’re younger.

They stretch your time like nothing else. The amount of time you have to give to them is immense, and it doesn’t leave much space for anything else. Earlier this year, I realised I’d tied my entire sense of self-worth to my family. Other guys do this with their jobs, making it all about career success. For me, it’s been my family. But both approaches are equally problematic, because when you place all your self-worth in external things—family, career, whatever—you lose sight of yourself.

A lot of men, myself included, get to midlife and think, Who the fuck am I? That happened to me. I looked around and realised, I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I like or what I want to do. And that’s not uncommon. Having kids plays a role in that.

TS: I can relate to that in a way. I’m 39, don’t have kids yet, but I have an amazing girlfriend who really wants a family. Until a couple of years ago, I didn’t feel like I was ready for fatherhood. I was so focused on work and, honestly, didn’t feel capable of being a father.

You mentioned generational trauma earlier, and that resonated with me. For a long time, my attitude was, I’ll break the cycle by not having kids. But in the last few years, as I’ve worked on myself, my perspective has shifted. I love the idea of being a father, of having that as part of my identity. But the thing that terrifies me is that I don’t want it to replace my identity completely. And, practically, I just don’t know how people do it. I have a stressful job—working late on pitches, jumping straight into meetings. How do you do all of that and raise kids?

PS: It’s about balance. What I’d say in your case is that you’ve done so much work on yourself—you have the self-awareness that most people don’t. If you approach fatherhood with that awareness, knowing you need balance and that you mustn’t lose sight of who you are, I think you’d navigate it well.

When I had kids, I didn’t have that awareness. I just had kids. I made a conscious choice 10 years ago to be self-employed so I could be around more, rather than working in a big London agency and never seeing my family. That was a deliberate decision. But over the years, I still lost sight of myself because I tied everything to my family. It’s not healthy. The difference is, you’re starting from a much more self-aware place.

And speaking of balance, it sounds like you’re already on a journey of shifting focus—from your career in PR to something you’re truly passionate about. Do you see yourself leaving PR altogether?

TS: Yeah, I do. There’s so much to say on this. My identity has been so tied to my career in PR, and the thought of letting that go is scary. But it’s also transformational. I’ve always loved my job, but this is different. There’s a difference between loving a job because you’re good at it and get recognition, and doing something you’re passionate about—something that aligns with your values. I feel like a different person when I’m doing this work.

That said, I don’t want to give you the cliché, Do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life, but that’s what it feels like. I’d love to move fully in this direction—coaching, therapy, or something similar. Talking about masculinity, gender dynamics, and building better relationships isn’t a typical route for a reality TV personality, so it’s not like brand deals are pouring in. In fact, I’ve turned down everything offered to me to stay true to this purpose.

But now, after months of working evenings and weekends, it’s starting to pay off. For example, I did a panel event with Bumble earlier this week, and they’re talking about doing more work with me. I’ve also had conversations with Stylist Magazine about offering a male perspective. It’s exciting. The lesson I’ve learned is to find your niche or purpose and commit to it. It takes resilience, but it’s worth it.

PS: Do you see yourself, or how do you feel about being held up as the face of modern masculinity?

TS: It’s cringe—really cringe. But I also think it’s necessary. There’s so much happening in the world, particularly with young men feeling disenfranchised, disillusioned, and unsure of their identity. For me, that’s partly a byproduct of equality. Equality is incredible and essential, but sometimes in the narrative, men feel left behind.

This is what frustrates me: gender is becoming polarised, and that’s dangerous. People forget that you can fight for women’s rights, for more representation in leadership roles, and for closing the gender pay gap without forgetting about men. It’s not binary. You can do both.

Look at the US elections, for example. One of the reasons young men are gravitating toward more conservative commentators is because campaigns have forgotten about them. When you see the kinds of figures these young men are looking up to—people with very traditional, sometimes outdated views—it’s concerning.

So yes, I’d like to offer an alternative perspective. I’m not here to tell anyone what’s right or wrong, but I think it’s important to present a balanced view. For example, at the Bumble event earlier this week, I was the only man on a panel talking to an audience of 35 Gen Z women about sex, dating, and relationships. Why? Because men aren’t engaging in these conversations, and there’s a massive gap that needs to be filled.

This isn’t a commercial endeavour for me. It’s moral. It’s about doing the right thing.

PS: Does being in those situations make you nervous, or do you embrace it?

TS: It makes me nervous in the sense that I have to be accountable for my behaviour, my words, and my actions. I’m not perfect—I’ve made plenty of mistakes, especially in romantic relationships. That’s always been my worry: How can I speak about these things when I’m not perfect?

But the irony is, my imperfection was part of my storyline on the show. I wasn’t a perfect human being, and that’s what people connected with. They saw someone who made mistakes but took accountability for them. Accountability is my top value as a person. So, as long as I stay true to that, I feel I can navigate these spaces.

PS: If we go back to modern masculinity, how would you summarise your view of how men should be today? What’s your soundbite?

TS: Good question. I’ve never really thought about it as a soundbite before. Let me give it a go.

A generation ago, the expectation for men was to be providers in the traditional sense—financially supporting their families. The world has moved on. If that’s your identity and it works for you and your family, great. But I think modern masculinity is about men understanding how to provide for themselves first. It’s about doing the work to figure out who you are, what you bring to the table, and what value you can offer—not just to others, but to yourself.

When men do that work, it improves their relationships with everyone around them. It’s about self-awareness and growth. For example, if someone like Donald Trump could say, The reason I am the way I am is because of my childhood, it might make him view the world differently. Understanding yourself is the key.

PS: I’d love to think that was possible.

TS: Yeah, maybe not the best example! But that’s the essence of it.

PS: I agree with so much of what you’ve said. And I think you’re right—men are being left behind. That’s something I’ve only come to realise through doing this show, the people I’ve talked to, and the things I’ve read. Feminism is a great movement, and I believe in equality 100%. But somehow, in pushing women forward, we’ve inadvertently pushed men down. And that’s not good for anyone.

Especially in midlife, men seem lost. They don’t know their place in the world anymore, and that’s harmful—for them, for women, for everyone.

TS: Exactly. I read an article recently that said toxic masculinity has become synonymous with masculinity itself. It’s now almost “toxic” to talk about masculinity. And that’s a problem.

The men who should be speaking up—those with balanced, thoughtful views—are so cautious about offending anyone that they don’t say anything at all. That leaves the loudest voices to be the most extreme ones, creating even more polarisation.

PS: Absolutely. The fear of backlash keeps men quiet, even when they have something valuable to say. It’s a shame because it’s often the reasonable voices we need most.

TS: Exactly. And that silence creates space for polarising views to dominate, which only deepens the gender divide.

PS: On the topic of age—do you consider yourself middle-aged?

TS: Oh God. The term makes me wince because there’s such a negativity bias around it. But in the literal sense, yeah, I’m 39, so technically, I’m in the middle of the life cycle.

That said, I think middle age is more about behaviours and life circumstances—being established, having kids, maybe being at the pinnacle of your career. By that definition, I don’t feel middle-aged at all.

PS: Exactly. By that definition, you’re not middle-aged. You don’t have kids, you’re not married, and while you’re at the height of your current career, it sounds like in five years, you’ll be doing something completely different. You’re still young—celebrate it!

TS: Thank God for that. Time to book a trip to Bali! But seriously, I think this idea of reinvention is so important. A lot of men my age—or older—don’t feel like they have the right to reinvent themselves. In your 20s, it’s easy to say, I’m going to try something new. But in your 30s or 40s, the financial responsibilities and the fear of starting over can hold you back.

PS: Exactly. And sometimes it’s not even starting over—it’s starting something better.

TS: Exactly. But it’s hard. For instance, when you started your business, that was a huge leap, right?

PS: It was. Ten years ago, I’d been thinking about it for a while, but it came down to a lifestyle choice. Do I keep climbing the corporate ladder, working in a big agency, earning more money but never seeing my family? Or do I take the leap? I chose the leap. But now, after investing 25 years in this career, the thought of starting something new feels scary. Do you feel that anxiety?

TS: 100%. But I think that’s how men are programmed, right? You touched on the word “investment,” and that’s exactly it for me. If I look at my life, my time and effort are like money, and I’ve invested a big portion of it into something I thought was worth investing in.

At the moment, my job feels like an investment with a decent annual return—it’s creeping up with a good interest rate each year. But now, the decision I’m facing is not only giving up that annual return but essentially throwing away the entire investment and starting over. It’s scary.

I think women might approach this differently—maybe seeing it more as an evolution than an investment. That’s something I’m trying to wrap my head around right now. And it’s not just finances. For a lot of men, the financial aspect is the scariest part. I’m fortunate because I don’t have dependents, but I imagine for others, especially those with families, it’s even more daunting. I’m lucky to be in a position where I have some financial security, but it’s still a big leap.

PS: Okay, so to wrap up, what do you see as your new direction? What’s your mission going forward?

TS: I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and I think my mission—the thing that gives me purpose—is helping people have better relationships. That’s always been the underlying goal for me. What that looks like exactly, I don’t know yet. It might involve getting a professional qualification, but I’m leaning more toward creating content and sharing information.

I’m not an expert, and I don’t claim to be, but I can be a sort of fulcrum—the one who disseminates this information and connects people with the right resources or experts. It could be a podcast, an online platform, or something else entirely.

Reaching men, in particular, is so challenging. But my career as a communicator gives me an edge. Sometimes, the experts themselves aren’t great at communicating their insights. That’s where I think I can step in—to act as the lens, the filter, and the bridge between these resources and the men who need them.

OUTRO

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Next week is our final show of the year. We’ll be reflecting on what’s changed since the podcast launched in August—both in my midlife journey and in the lives of some of you.

We’ll also look at how you can use the Christmas break to start shifting your mindset about midlife

See you then.