Reclaiming My Body: Learning to Listen in Midlife

What is this season of life asking me to reclaim?

It is the question at the heart of Midlife Reclaimed, and one I have been asking myself too. Lately, one of the answers that keeps coming up for me is my body.

I don't mean reclaiming my body in the sense of trying to change how it looks, getting my younger body back, or turning it into another self-improvement project. I mean reclaiming my relationship with my body: learning to pay closer and more compassionate attention to her, listening to what she might be telling me rather than expecting her to simply keep up with whatever I decide life requires of us.

Midlife has made that increasingly difficult to ignore.

The relationship I have had with my body

When I look back over my life, my relationship with my body hasn't always been particularly kind. I grew up in the 80s and 90s, when the messages around women's bodies were hard to miss. Thin was desirable. Appearance mattered. Magazines, music videos and the supermodels of the time presented a fairly narrow picture of what a beautiful woman's body was supposed to look like, and I absorbed plenty of those messages. Times really haven’t changed, unfortunately.

For a long time, my relationship with my body was conditional. I wanted her to look a certain way and, when she didn't, I tried to make her. At different points that meant over-exercising, under-eating and bingeing. There were also brief periods of other unhealthy behaviours in my attempts to control my weight. It is uncomfortable to look back on some of that, but it is part of the relationship I have had with my body and part of understanding how that relationship has changed.

Over the years, through studying psychology, my own therapy and a lot of personal work, I started thinking differently about food and movement. Increasingly, I wanted those things to nourish and care for my body rather than punish her into looking a certain way. My relationship with my body became more compassionate, kind and caring.

When I arrived in midlife, that relationship was challenged all over again. My weight shifted. My energy changed. Exercise became harder. I experienced injuries and digestive issues. Perimenopause arrived alongside my recovery from burnout and brought with it another collection of bodily changes. The body I had finally started learning to be kinder towards was changing again.

It makes me wonder about the stories each of us carries into midlife about our bodies. How would you describe the relationship you've had with your body over the years? You might consider the messages you received about what your body should look like, what it should be capable of, or how you should treat it. Perhaps there have been times when you listened to your body and other times when you simply expected her to carry you through.

Caring for my mind, but expecting my body to keep going

One of the questions I found myself reflecting on was why I had cared for my psychological wellbeing so differently from my physical wellbeing.

I've spent much of my adult life caring for my mental health. After experiencing significant mental health challenges as a young woman, I sought therapy and eventually went on to study psychology. Across my adult life, I have worked with psychologists, counsellors, social workers and coaches, both when things have been difficult and at times because I simply wanted to understand myself better. I learnt relatively young that my emotional and psychological wellbeing deserved attention.

My relationship with my body was different. For much of my life, I think I simply expected her to get on with things, keep up, keep working and keep carrying me. Burnout changed that.

When I burnt out, my body eventually spoke so loudly that I could no longer ignore her. My mind knew I wasn't okay and my heart knew I wasn't okay, yet I kept going. Eventually, my body said no.

Around the same time, although I didn't understand it then, perimenopause was beginning. There were hot flushes, night sweats, brain fog, plummeting energy, digestive changes, rage and physical injuries. My body was communicating; I just hadn't yet learnt her language.

Perhaps there is something here for you to consider too. Are there parts of yourself you've learnt to care for well, while there are others you've expected simply to get on with things?

What has my body been trying to tell me?

This question has become increasingly important to me in midlife. I've had to learn that some of the things that worked for my body before don't necessarily work for her now.

Movement is one example. For years I loved much more intense exercise, and it served me well for a long time. Eventually, though, I was getting injured more frequently and my body seemed to be asking for something different. These days my movement looks different. Reformer Pilates has become a big part of it: slower and controlled, while still building strength. I've been able to bring cardio back through Jazzercise, often choosing the lower-impact options. I stretch and have explored Qigong. Perhaps most importantly, I adjust what I do according to what my body is telling me.

There are days when I go to Pilates and take it gently, days when movement feels supportive and my body welcomes it, and days when what she really needs is rest. Learning to distinguish between these has become part of listening rather than automatically pushing myself to do what I think I should be able to do.

Food has required listening too. I've noticed changes in what my digestive system tolerates, how much food feels comfortable and even how quickly I eat. Changes in my energy led me to seek medical support and discover a B12 deficiency. Sleep, hormones, joints and digestion have all given me plenty to pay attention to.

I don't always understand what my body is saying, and I think that's important to acknowledge too. Listening doesn't mean diagnosing ourselves or having all the answers. Sometimes listening means recognising that something has changed and seeking appropriate professional support. It means taking the message seriously rather than automatically dismissing it or pushing through.

This brings me to another question worth sitting with: If your body could speak, what might she have been trying to tell you lately? Perhaps you have noticed fatigue, pain, tension, changes in energy, a need for rest, or simply a sense that something feels different. You don't necessarily need to solve what you notice. For now, perhaps you can simply listen.

Paying close and compassionate attention

I often think of my body as her. That might sound a little strange, but it helps me remember something important: I am in a relationship with my body. Like any relationship, I can think intentionally about how I want to show up within it.

I can relate to my body through criticism, demands and control, or I can try to bring curiosity, care, attentiveness and compassion. For me, compassionate attention means noticing when my body is struggling and choosing to respond in a way that supports her.

That is very different from the motivational voice many of us have known: You should exercise. You need to lose weight. You shouldn't eat that. You need to try harder.

Compassion doesn't mean I have to love every change in my body. There are changes I struggle with and things I would quite happily change if I could (hello menobelly). Compassion isn't pretending otherwise. It is acknowledging where I am and deciding that criticism and punishment are not how I want to relate to myself or motivate myself to care for my body.

Instead, I can become curious about what is happening, what my body might be communicating and what she might need from me today. I can also notice what is going well: what feels strong or comfortable, and what this body allows me to experience and enjoy.

This distinction matters because paying attention to our bodies can so easily become another form of monitoring and control. That isn't the kind of attention I'm trying to cultivate. I am trying to learn how to listen with care. What might compassionate attention to your body look like if you weren't trying to fix her, but were simply trying to hear her?

What might reclaiming my body look like from here?

For me, reclaiming my body isn't a grand health overhaul. In fact, I think that would miss the point. It looks much more ordinary than that.

It looks like balance. It means paying attention to my energy and adjusting movement accordingly, eating foods I enjoy while also thinking about what nourishes me, and seeking professional help when my body tells me something needs attention. It means continuing to care for my hormones, joints, strength, nutrition, digestion and sleep, without expecting myself to address everything at once.

Perhaps most importantly, reclaiming my body means learning to move with the rhythm of my body rather than constantly trying to push her beyond it.

That doesn't mean never stretching myself. Sometimes my mind tells me, I can't be bothered going to Pilates today, while paying closer attention tells me that my body would actually benefit from going, taking it gently and simply showing up. At other times, rest really is what I need. The more I pay attention, the more I am beginning to recognise the difference.

Listening is something we learn, and I will get it wrong sometimes. We all will. Reclaiming our bodies doesn't need to be about getting it right. Perhaps it is about continuing to show up, paying attention and responding with as much compassion as we can.

A moment with your body

Before you move on from this article, perhaps spend a moment simply being with your body without trying to change or fix her. Rather than thinking about how she looks or how you believe she should be, see if you can simply acknowledge this body that has accompanied you throughout your life.

This body has changed many times. She has adapted, carried you, protected you and signalled when something needed your attention. There may also have been times when she kept going despite you not paying very much attention to her at all.

There may be things about your body that are difficult right now, things you miss, things you don't understand yet, or things you wish were different. You don't have to feel grateful for all of it. Perhaps you can simply see whether there is something, however small, that you appreciate about your body in this moment. It might be her strength, persistence or capacity for pleasure. It could be her ability to move, feel, rest or heal, or simply her ability to let you know when something isn't right.

You might even quietly offer your body a few words: Thank you for carrying me. I'm learning to listen. I'm learning to understand you. I'm learning to care for you.

Your Midlife Reclaimed reflection

This brings me back to the question at the heart of Midlife Reclaimed: What is this season of life asking you to reclaim?

Perhaps, for you too, there is something here about your relationship with your body. Reclaiming her doesn't have to mean fixing her, getting your younger body back or turning her into another project. It might simply begin with paying closer attention and learning to listen.

What is one way your relationship with your body might be asking to change in this season of your life?

You don't need to have the answer today. Just ask the question and notice what comes.

Take gentle care of you.

Shannon

Midlife Reclaimed Blogger and Fellow Midlife Woman

Written by Shannon A. Swales, Clinical Psychologist | Updated 11 Sept 2026